| I sent out the following message quite some time back, and am resending
| it again because of the added bit of news which somehas has uncovered
| - Roshan
Hugh Gallagher, Harper's Magazine, August 1990, p. 36
This essay, by Hugh Gallagher, won first prize in the humor
category of the 1990 Scholastic Writing Awards. It appeared
in the May issue of Literary Cavalcade, a magazine of
contemporary fiction and student writing published by
Scholastic in New York City. Gallagher, who is eighteen,
grew up in Newtown Square, Pennsylvania, and will attend New
York University this fall.
3A. ESSAY
IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU,
THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION:
ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS
YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I
have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making
them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic
slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time
efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot
bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook
Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a
veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly
defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious
army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets. I am the
subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large
suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hand gliding. On
Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of
charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie.
Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening
wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan
mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes.
Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal force
demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned my
fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly
accuracy. I one read Paradies Lost, Moby-Dick, and David Copperfield
in one day and still had time to refurbish and entire dining room that
evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the
supermarket. I have performed covert operations for the CIA. I sleep
once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in
Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had
seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On
weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami.
Years ago I discovered the meaning of life by forgot to write it down.
I have made extraordinary four-course meals using only a Mouli and a
toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San
Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the
Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery,
and I have spoken with Elvis.
But I have not yet gone to college.
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This message was sent on 23 July 1997