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Old Miscellany: Fleming and Bond

I was going through my filing cabinet this morning looking for notes on Flaubert, and I came across a file labeled “Old Miscellany.” I couldn’t pass that up.

Oh the gems I found there, including some old copies of the North River News in which I had published some angry letters; some notes from my undergraduate astronomy class; a couple of handwritten essays — probably exams — one was about poetical techniques on which was written “good essay structure, but vague content”; an 1101 research paper dated 11/30/87 about a “Security Sales Worker” — the assignment apparently was to research a career you’d be interested in, and I picked that?!; some clipped comics — probably sent by Dad; notes and feedback on a speech about genetic engineering — the feedback are on bits of scrap paper, and apparently Kip was in this class with me — one of his comments was “You stud! My nipples are hard!”; and a typed essay called “Ian Fleming and James Bond.”

The latter is the oldest and clearly shows my writing acumen from an early age. I scanned it and include it below for your reading pleasure.

It’s not exactly MLA — the margins are way off. This was obviously a copy of the original essay because it contains not one mark of praise from Mrs. Meek. I have to say, too, that her name was likely very appropriate, as I have no distinct memory of her or her class. She might have been jealous of my obvious scholarly potential evident by this first-rate work of research; she must have sensed that my academic achievements in literary studies would soon dwarf hers. Who wouldn’t recognize the rhetorical savvy of phrases like “his popularity status”; “a chap by the name of ‘Q’ produces many technological gimmicks which assist 007 in his defense of the free world”; “Bond was made a widower through funfire” (?); and “Bond had a number of cars ranging from a gray Abstom-Martian” (I wonder if that’s anything like an Aston-Martin?).

Now that I think about it, I don’t really remember anything from the eighth grade other than perhaps awkwardly passing a note to Lucy Langlois, reading Dynamite magazine, working as Ms. Farmer’s aide, and hating to “dress out” for gym class. It’s a treat to get an artifact from my life in 1983. I can’t help but see Dad’s influence in this, too. There’s quite a bit of information on guns and cars, though surely he knows that “Abstom-Martian” is incorrect. Dad, did you even proofread this for me?

I think the most impressive part of this research paper is that it really says nothing. There doesn’t seem to be an explicit thesis — unless “James Bond is cool” is an acceptable one. I’d expect, in all seriousness, that this is pretty lame for the eighth grade. Still, I was a pretty lame eighth grader, and I continued that trend throughout high school. What grade would you give me?

That’s the first installment of “Old Miscellany.” Maybe I’ll post more.

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  • http://autumnjerry.net/ Autumn

    I love it! I especially like the name you made up for the car ;-)

    You have to share this with your dad!

    • http://grlucas.net/ grlucas

      He probably wrote it!

  • Jerry Lucas (Dad)

    Thanks for sharing the “time capsule.” I could be a bit prejudiced in being your Dad, but I think your writing at age 14 was awesome. The little error regarding the Aston Martin could easily be attributed to “writer fatigue”….. in that we watched each of those Bond movies 17 times (25 for “From Russia with Love”). Typos happen. That Kip person missed his calling…. you and he should have considered writing some pornography. (You could have used my computer.) Could Lucy Langlois have ever known as Lucille?… as in the song that your brother Tim and Kenny Rogers sang for you….”You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille…four hungry children and a crop in the field…” Oh, well, if so she is forgiven, right? Hang in there and keep hitting the keys……

    Love you, Son.

    Yorpa

  • Paul Meloun

    Hey, I enjoyed it. There are MSC students that can’t write at the level you wrote in eighth grade.

    And James Bond IS cool.