Confessions of a Second-Rate Mind Essay

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Confessions of a Second-Rate Mind

Recently, I found myself drawn to Woody Allen’s essay, “Random Reflections of a Second-Rate Mind.” I liked the title; I can relate to random thoughts, but I hated the idea of relating to Allen himself. I dislike him on a personal level. I have trouble condoning the behavior of a grown man who refuses to ignore his animalistic urges and sleeps with his teenage step-child. But perhaps Allen had some clue as to what he was doing considering that the latest Hollywood tabloid reports that he and his step-daughter/wife have just had a child together, and are doing well. I won’t speculate, but I have put aside my issues with his personal life, and have found common ground. I too, have random thoughts, and
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As Allen resumed his random thoughts on growing up Jewish in New York, and his struggles in later life dealing with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, no doubt inspired by his encounter with the Holocaust survivor, I began to recall similar experiences in my own life.

I have a good friend who lived abroad in Scotland last fall. We both have the uncanny knack of meeting someone for the first time and inevitably end up knowing their entire life history within a fifteen-minute conversation. He and I communicated over e-mail, sharing daily stories. One in particular began, “…and over Big Mac’s and fries, the Doctor told me, some random curly-haired kid, his story of the one that got away.” As it turns out, my friend met a retired doctor who had been in the service during World War II, and had been stationed in Scotland. While there, the doctor met “the one,” a Scottish girl, but never told her how he truly felt. Before he shipped out to return to the US, he debated finding her, and asking her to go with him, but he just couldn’t get up enough nerve. And so there he was, over fifty years later, returning to Scotland to see if he could find her. My friend met this man on the last leg of his trip. He had traveled all over looking for his lost love, and he was now returning home; He hadn’t found her. He said he knew it was a shot in the dark, but something he just had to do before he died. The doctor
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