Ripples

 Now, as ne’er do well folksinger, road bum, and once in a while charlatan, I was well experienced in escape tactics. My favorite was to pack my pack, grab the guitar, and put my thumb out. But sooner rather than later, I ran out of places, people, or things to hide behind. Fresh off an attempt to murder me, I bottomed out in a strange place. Emotionally and mentally, I realized that what needed to change was me and not where I was physically.

And that’s how I found myself a student in a lecture hall at Boston University on a cold Monday evening in January. My last stint as a student in high school left me with a solid anti-authoritarian attitude that I have to this day. Teachers strutted about all full of self-importance, cockalorum, and cheap braggadocio. Disagree and get sent to detention or be expelled. High school days ended with me spending more time in a Washington Heights pool hall than a classroom. For some years, my classroom had been coffeehouses, roadside diners, and vast stretches of highway. Until recently,

it had been enough.

On the stage was a very slender older woman. The podium could not contain her enthusiasm as she walked about,

gesturing and talking about the ancient city, the beginning of literature and great sagas. I thought she was moonstruck and probably overdue for a refill on her meds. This was my introduction to Professor Elizabeth Barker. While I never had an extended conversation with her outside of class, she profoundly affected me and the direction I was traveling. I followed her through three semester-long courses. She introduced me to literature as diverse as the Annumaelish, Gilgamesh, Wojchek, Madame Bovary, To the Lighthouse, D.H. Lawrence’s Studies in Classic American Literature, and James Joyce’s Dubliner’s. Somewhere along the way, about when I was reading D.H. Lawrence, some new plans for my life began to kick in. I was going to get a degree.

When Professor Barker died in 1989, she left behind thousands of us who’d had their lives altered by the journeys we had taken with her. She had been a Metropolitan College professor at BU for many years, instituted college-level courses in Massachuset prisons, was a labor organizer, and was a tenant’s rights activist.

Students of history, anthropologists, and many others tend to discount the “great man” theory of change. But some great people can have outsized effects while drawing little attention. It’s just that unlike politicians, dictators, and so-called titans of industry, they attract less press. Their influence is more subtle. They don’t produce waves; they make ripples, which subtly affect all they touch.