A. Michael, part 3: "A" is for Arrogant

Reecca, understanding the pain and private humiliation that Aaron’s sterility causes him, implies to all family members that she is the member of their team who is incapable of producing more children. The family, even though they know of Aaron’s bout with mumps, is grateful for the opportunity to believe Reecca’s fiction. A. Michael becomes, more than ever, their reason for being, their proudest accomplishment, their total focus.

A. Michael’s innate aloofness is magnified by his parents’ unquestioning adoration. He doesn’t have to do anything to please them, so he never has to learn any coping devices that would enable him to know how to please others, or even guess that such actions might be helpful to his own cause, if not anyone else’s.

At age five, A. Michael changes his name for Stuart from Uncle Stuart to “Uncle Father.” It drives Stuart mad. That’s why A. Michael does it.

Each of A. Michael’s parents hail from large families, and it grieves them so much to be restricted to only one child that they pour into little A. Michael too much attention, too much love, too many expectations, and way, way too much pride. What “takes” the most are the attention, expectations and pride. A. Michael is one arrogant guy. It’s so ingrained in him that it may even have been congenital. Hardwired, as it were. Arrogance deeper than bone.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the situation, A. Michael does have some abilities that are highly exceptional. First of all, he is a scientific genius. The paths of deductive logic; the intricate inter-relationships of structures, energies, components and properties; the unlikely similarities and shocking differences; the blatantly obvious and the unfathomably mysterious—all the forms and facets of life paint a tapestry in A. Michael’s brain that is as clear and decipherable to him as a photograph labeled, “Life: You Are Here.” His ability to recognize unlikely similarities gives him remarkable diagnostic skills. His near-photographic memory enables him to function as a walking encyclopedia of pharmacopoeia.

Apr. 9
A Michael part 4: “A” is for Alone

A. Michael is utterly, totally, completely, and irredeemably in love with all members of the animal kingdom . . . except humans. His awe for the perfectly evolved body of a slug is matched only by his disdain for a human with a backache. Even a slug knows better than to lift more than his musculature safely allows.

A. Michael was never popular in school. When he couldn’t intellectualize away his yearning for friendship with other humans, i.e., playmates, he turned to other animals for his emotional needs. Because his parents indulged him, he was able to keep a fantastic menagerie in his own room. He built elaborate homes for his various species, often inventing innovative little ecosystems so he could share his space with exotics.

To his delight, A. Michael discovers that teachers leave him alone and let him read in a corner as they teach the basics of phonics. He finishes his work so quickly that he “earns” the right to go off by himself. He does not have to interact with the other kids or the teacher. He is rewarded for excelling and thus encouraged to remain isolated. A. Michael always chooses to be alone when given the opportunity. He always chooses reading about science and non-fiction. He has no interest in storybooks, dramas, mysteries. He wants facts. He hates biographies, and when his third grade book report on Pasteur dwells more on the process of scientific discovery than the man, his teacher gives him an A+ and doesn’t make note of the oddity.

A. Michael participates in all the religious schooling and rituals in much the same way as he does English assignments. He does them without emotional involvement. He is an altar boy because it is expected and because doing it pleases his parents. When his parents are pleased, A. Michael is allowed to continue being alone. In catechism class, he does not question the teaching; he sees them as assignments in memorization.

(continued)