Someone has thrown me into a tizzy in recent times, pushing hard on just how it is that when I was still in high school I was being brought into the CIA so as to be invited to be assigned to the Vatican. Not an everyday question. Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. It’s all shameless humint baiting, of course. I’m always happy to oblige when it comes to nostalgia.
Meanwhile, some people come to mind:
- Our much loved Headmaster. Upon many zillion question psych exams, and seeing that I came up with 11.2 on a 1 to 10 scale for leadership – the scenarios presented for that, so very many, were sooo subtle – he took me under his wing for special training in leadership. The school had leadership camps for kids, which I never went to, despising them, I guess. But I made up for this by special tutoring. This headmaster taught me, of all things in the last few years of high school, counterintelligence. This training went on for years. Very intense. About eight hours each session. Going step by step, with ever more complexity. So intense did it get that he used real names once in a while, apologizing for this. All exhilarating for me. He wanted to make sure that I could never be duped by anyone for any reason in any way because of seeing through whatever I came across. He was super young for the position he had, in perfect health, but then dropped dead of a “heart attack” shortly after I graduated.
- A guy I’ll call “The Janitor.” Military. Brilliant weapons guy. He shadowed me everywhere, right around the countryside. He was going to help me build my teenage version of a hermitage but my dad wanted me to build it by my own ingenuity. But the shadowing got to be annoying. I learned how to take evasive action, which is what he wanted, of course. When I asked him about it, sometimes pressing him on this – and many times over the years – he would steadfastly only give me the non-answer that I would see in the future what my future would be, but that this had everything to do with what others were assessing of me. He denied everything I guessed, which left me flummoxed. I’m guessing he’s long dead by now.
- Peter Paul Strzok II. Just as an aside, I’m guessing that I met another alumnus, a present nemesis, of later counterintelligence / counterterrorism / military / FBI infamy, that is, if he had ever as a youngster come over to my parish school for a “Spanferkel” experience so as to get him recruited while being at one of the many levels of leadership camps we had. We had lots of language schools as well.
- FBI agents a dime a dozen. From the time I was a little kid, then in Junior High School, then High School, then the first couple of years in the Seminary, my dad, himself very high profile, would invite FBI agents to town all the time for the elite crowd there, and go out of his way to make sure I was there so that he could introduce me to them, making sure that I was on their radar.
Anyway, I’m mulling over the question.