Check Your Points

In the little seen but highly decent Steve Buscemi flick Tres Lounge, the last shot is a haunting one. The main character, after 90 minutes of boozing, doing bad drugs and chasing women out of his league, goes back to his favorite bar and comments that one of the regulars, an old man we've seen throughout the film, is missing. Apparently he died, having lived his life on the barstool. No one noticed, and no one missed him. The last shot is Buscemi, staring into space, realizing he's in the 3rd quarter and he hasn't scored any points.

That image burned into my memory and was vividly recalled yesterday when I received a note in the mail that one of my favorite teachers from high school had passed away. They are holding a memorial service for her tomorrow, and I won't be attending. I liked her, she spoke highly of me, writing me several recommendations and teaching me my first Shakespeare (though I credit the fact that I read Macbeth at least once a year to another teacher). She was right up my ally and definitely a favorite.

Yet, she wasn't important enough to me to either keep in touch, or attend her memorial service. It makes me a little morose to think of that, but what really gets me is the idea that most if not all of her other students felt the same way - pleasant memories but a glancing blow in terms of a lasting impact. I wonder how many mourners there will be. I wonder how long I'm going to remember her name. I wonder if she was the drunk on the barstool in Tres Lounge who registered with people, but didn't move them to any sort of action.

To be fair, I only was familiar with one part of the woman's life. She more than likely had friends and relatives. And also in the interest of fairness, how many people would think of me a year later if I died tomorrow? A few, but not that many, which is the fate of almost all of us.

Education, I guess, could be different. If you get the right person in the right situation, they can change lives (and if you get the wrong person in the wrong situation, you end up with an ulcer and a bunch of pissed off students). It's a job I admire people for taking, one that deserves a bunch of mourners when you go the trip.

But that damned empty barstool is haunting me since I heard of her death. It shouldn't - what does she care what sort of legacy she left, she's dead and no matter what you subscribe to, things are better or done when you die (unless you go to hell, which is a fate I can only see PE teachers enduring). It's bothering me. Someone who puts up with us when we're at our worst should have some sort of recognition, I guess. They should live on, like in that episode of the Twilight Zone where that literature professor is visited by the ghosts of his former students.

Not an empty barstool. Not for her.