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Prompt: Describe an influential figure...
I had always been taught to stay away from strangers asking for money, but the man standing in front of me had a vintage-looking Fender Telecaster dangling around his neck, so I couldn't resist. He was wearing a tattered Cubs hat and old blue jeans and, with a beaming smile on his bearded face, was singing to a Hendrix lick. He was one of the many street performers on Princeton's campus and looked to be about forty years old.
Stopping for a moment to listen to his music, I dropped whatever change I had on me into the little plastic jar sitting at his feet. The man met my gaze and introduced himself. His name was Alan Graham. We struck up a casual conversation and realized that we were both lovers of blues and jazz. As I left, I mentioned to him that I lived in this area and I'd stop by again in the near future.
True to my word, I would see a lot of Alan Graham over the next few months. Whenever I roamed the streets of downtown Nassau, I would stop by his location with near-perfect attendance. Although my visits to him would last only a few minutes, we developed an unlikely but easy friendship: him, a musician that performed to an audience of alleyways and curbs, and me, a high school student. The discussions we shared, on everything from Steely Dan to Michael Steele, were some of the most memorable I've ever had.
But in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but look down upon Alan Graham. The man was infectiously charismatic and could work a fretboard like no other, but he was still nothing more than a mere street performer. I doubted that he had received much formal education; I didn't think he had a family or even a home. In the end, Alan was just someone who frittered his life away and now could only support himself by playing music for the spare change of the sympathetic.
Still, I would devote time to his setup outside of the Ivy Garden and Old World Pizza. He might not have made the best role model, but Alan was veritably cool and, in some ways, that was enough for me. On one of those warm August nights, however, I would overhear a dramatic conversation between two university students. They had taken notice of Alan as well, but unlike me, they were aware of his personal background. The story that I heard was remarkable, to say the least.
In reality, Alan Graham wasn't just a street performer; he was a venture capitalist who was able to retire at age thirty-seven because his firm had turned millions of dollars in profit. This man played guitar on the street not because he had no other means of income, but because he just loved the idea of entertaining others. Alan became an exemplar of how I thought everyone should live; even with all of his affluence and success, he couldn't have been happier than with making those around him laugh and smile, if only for a moment.
It was a stark realization to make that Alan Graham is who I, and so many others, strive to become. To be at a juncture in my life where success is at my heels; to use achievements and triumphs as vehicles of movement instead of setting them as lifelong goals; to simply be able to do what it is I enjoy doing - these are freedoms that I one day hope to ascertain. I believe that this is the goal of all peoples, and since we may disagree on how such freedom is brought about, we'll each end up cultivating our talents to get there. Some will choose the material sciences, others the liberal arts; I'll turn to public policy and government. One day, I'll find my own sidewalk that I can call home, because I now know that when I do, my entire life will have been worthwhile. It's for this reason that I have come to so dearly value an education in government and politics, and it's the daily pursuit of this mission that gives me the strength needed to hope, work, and persevere.
When I first met Alan Graham, I had so easily dismissed him because of the way he talked and the clothes he wore. I had always thought of myself as an open-minded, tolerant person. Alan showed me that I still have a long way to go.
Prompt: Describe an influential figure...
I had always been taught to stay away from strangers asking for money, but the man standing in front of me had a vintage-looking Fender Telecaster dangling around his neck, so I couldn't resist. He was wearing a tattered Cubs hat and old blue jeans and, with a beaming smile on his bearded face, was singing to a Hendrix lick. He was one of the many street performers on Princeton's campus and looked to be about forty years old.
Stopping for a moment to listen to his music, I dropped whatever change I had on me into the little plastic jar sitting at his feet. The man met my gaze and introduced himself. His name was Alan Graham. We struck up a casual conversation and realized that we were both lovers of blues and jazz. As I left, I mentioned to him that I lived in this area and I'd stop by again in the near future.
True to my word, I would see a lot of Alan Graham over the next few months. Whenever I roamed the streets of downtown Nassau, I would stop by his location with near-perfect attendance. Although my visits to him would last only a few minutes, we developed an unlikely but easy friendship: him, a musician that performed to an audience of alleyways and curbs, and me, a high school student. The discussions we shared, on everything from Steely Dan to Michael Steele, were some of the most memorable I've ever had.
But in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but look down upon Alan Graham. The man was infectiously charismatic and could work a fretboard like no other, but he was still nothing more than a mere street performer. I doubted that he had received much formal education; I didn't think he had a family or even a home. In the end, Alan was just someone who frittered his life away and now could only support himself by playing music for the spare change of the sympathetic.
Still, I would devote time to his setup outside of the Ivy Garden and Old World Pizza. He might not have made the best role model, but Alan was veritably cool and, in some ways, that was enough for me. On one of those warm August nights, however, I would overhear a dramatic conversation between two university students. They had taken notice of Alan as well, but unlike me, they were aware of his personal background. The story that I heard was remarkable, to say the least.
In reality, Alan Graham wasn't just a street performer; he was a venture capitalist who was able to retire at age thirty-seven because his firm had turned millions of dollars in profit. This man played guitar on the street not because he had no other means of income, but because he just loved the idea of entertaining others. Alan became an exemplar of how I thought everyone should live; even with all of his affluence and success, he couldn't have been happier than with making those around him laugh and smile, if only for a moment.
It was a stark realization to make that Alan Graham is who I, and so many others, strive to become. To be at a juncture in my life where success is at my heels; to use achievements and triumphs as vehicles of movement instead of setting them as lifelong goals; to simply be able to do what it is I enjoy doing - these are freedoms that I one day hope to ascertain. I believe that this is the goal of all peoples, and since we may disagree on how such freedom is brought about, we'll each end up cultivating our talents to get there. Some will choose the material sciences, others the liberal arts; I'll turn to public policy and government. One day, I'll find my own sidewalk that I can call home, because I now know that when I do, my entire life will have been worthwhile. It's for this reason that I have come to so dearly value an education in government and politics, and it's the daily pursuit of this mission that gives me the strength needed to hope, work, and persevere.
When I first met Alan Graham, I had so easily dismissed him because of the way he talked and the clothes he wore. I had always thought of myself as an open-minded, tolerant person. Alan showed me that I still have a long way to go.
