In high school I had this photography teacher named Mr. Fisher. He was tough, talented, and openly gay. And he had the driest sense of humor I've ever encountered. One time he was showing us a touch aperture on a camera and quipped that feature was designed for the blind photographer. I was the only one laughing, and I felt like I was going straight to hell for laughing at a blind person's expense. But it was a joke! (One that couldn't be used in the classroom now, I think).
Because I laughed, and maybe because I shot quality work, Mr. Fisher took a liking to me. My senior year of high school, I walked into his classroom on Valentine's Day, and he wished me a straight-faced, "Happy V.D. Liz." Again, I laughed, this time with my face on fire in a painful blush. There was something poignant about being surrounded by stoners and having venereal disease mentioned to you by your gay man art teacher.
Now, I laugh every time I think of it. And every year I wish my (adult) friends a "Happy V.D." Their reactions are nearly all the same: 'What? Oh, yeah... that's pretty funny. (In a twisted way, no doubt).'
Mr. Fisher, wherever you are... your humor is still weird, and I still love it.
3 comments:
My V comes home in 3 days!! Happy VD indeed!!
Yay! I was going to call you, but I didn't want to interrupt any of the homecoming celebrations (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
I didn't have Mr. Fisher, but I certainly know who you are talking about. I remember his very stoic composure. Great story.
Post a Comment