Saturday, February 2, 2013

The Day Ayn Rand Died

This original Rand photo is for sale.

Ayn Rand was dead.
 My heart sank. I was living in the small town of Willimantic, Connecticut, not far from New York City. The newspaper said that the funeral would be at the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home.
 I knew that I had to be there. I needed to say good bye and to say thank you.
In high school I was ashamed of my intellect and abilities. Throughout junior high I was pretty much a straight A student. I was the youngest member of the National Honour Society at the school, all the others were finishing their studies while I had barely just begun.
At my 8th grade graduation I listened to a millionaire motivational speaker tell us about possibility thinking. I always knew that more was possible but it was the “more” that frightened me.
 Each year the school gave an award to a student who exemplified intellect and maturity. The thought of winning terrified me. As we approached the moment that the award winner would be announced my heart raced. There was a horrid terror gripping my emotions.
The last thing I wanted was to win. The last thing I wanted was to be ridiculed for achieving something. The ethos of the other students was one that despised intelligence and accomplishment except that which was achieved by brute force.