Baby Adolf in my locker.
When I was in highschool, I kept a photograph of baby Adolf Hitler taped inside my locker. It was two inches wide, black and white, in high gloss. If I had to guess, I would say he was around one year old when that photo was taken, and he was a cute little munchkin — chubby cheeks and all.
Why did 16 year old me keep a baby photo of one of the world’s most notoriously wicked individuals?
I have to admit, one reason was to get a reaction out of people; it wasn’t the only bizarre thing I did to raise eyebrows. I once had a girlfriend sew the top half of a pink thong onto a pair of boxers so I could trick other students into thinking I was wearing women’s underwear. I went to school, waited for an opportune moment, bent over, and allowed passersby to catch a glimpse of the pink lacey tendrils riding up my back. It was a repeat offense that kept me entertained for half a day.
Another time I took a hairdresser’s mannequin head up to a second story window of the school and my friend Mike and I waited for kids to walk under. We’d scream at the top of our lungs and drop the lifelike head, terrifying the unsuspecting victims below. It was not without satisfying results.
I had a 7” tall mohawk kept in place with blow-dried hairspray, and wore a pair of pants that looked like they were made out of an ugly couch someone threw away in 1992. Sometimes I walked to the grocery store twenty minutes away and bought a box of ice cream sandwiches to give to people in the hallway. I shared openly about my faith in Jesus.
Before all of that, I was homeschooled.
[You, the Reader] “Ohhh, THAT explains it.”
By grade 10 (which was when I entered high school) most of the damage had been done; I didn’t give a rat's ass about the culturally bizarre world that is public high school. I decided I could bring my own culture.
My own, alienesque, homeschooler-kid culture.
It was probably my way of sticking it to the man in the middle of the beige monotony of the institution of education — a kind of declaration that I didn’t fully comply.
Maybe I didn’t keep that baby picture of Adolf Hitler entirely for shock value. Maybe, deep down in the recesses of my underdeveloped teenage cerebrum I had an idea worth thinking about. Maybe keeping a photo of an evil person in my locker was a way of reminding myself that we all start out as cute and cuddly and complicit — entirely at the mercy of our environment and our caretakers. Not just incapable of taking care of ourselves, but incapable of nurturing and growing good or evil in our own hearts and minds.
Maybe I was setting a reminder for myself that I wasn’t a 1 year old anymore — that I had to be careful.
You don’t just jump from chubby fumbling toddler straight to genocidal nationalist leader.
No. That shit happens in baby steps.
Cute, little Baby Adolf.