Cyrano and Mr. Casper

When I was in high school I was privileged to learn from a teacher named Bill Casper, who was affectionately known by his students as “the ghost,” because his name invoked the memory of a friendly cartoon character and because he had a habit of sneaking up on you when you were thinking of doing something wrong. Unfortunately he had a congenital defect that left his limbs short and all his joints painful. He had responsibility for speech and drama programs at the high school and he dedicated long hours to preparing students for their best presentations. I participated in both speech and drama, therefore I spent some long hours with Mr. Casper. One memory of our long association stands out for me.

I had stayed after school to work on a speech and we were the last ones left in the classroom. I was sitting on the floor and Mr. Casper was sitting on the chair of one of those student chair/desk combos. I had encountered a speech from the play called Cyrano de Bergerac, by Edmond Rostand. Mr. Casper volunteered to tell me the story of the play so I settled on the floor at his feet. For the better part of an hour I listened with rapt attention to the story of the fabulous swordsman with the extremely large nose. I heard how he fell in love with Roxanne and had no hope of capturing her attention because of his common looks, and how he then helps his handsome young friend, Christian, woo Roxanne by ghost writing his love letters. Finally when Cyrano returns wounded from the wars, he sets the record straight with Roxanne and dies in her arms as the plume from his hat flutters to the ground.

Mr. Casper was a superior storyteller. As we sat in the fading light of late afternoon I was completely transported by the tragedy of a man, beautiful on the inside, not so perfect on the outside. Cyrano and Mr. Casper, my hat’s off to you both.