Post #4
Reading Response
There was a man who sat in a wheelchair in the corner of a mental home staring out a window. He didn't have a name, or if he did, he never knew it. Despite his functioning muscles, he had great difficulty walking, and was usually confined to his wheelchair where he was much more comfortable. He could not speak, and, although he could hear, he could not understand language.
He was not a stupid man, nor an incompetent one. The man experienced the world close to one-fiftieth the speed of a normal person, making typical everyday function impossible. He could not interact with anyone, because everything happened so slowly in his world. So he would sit in his chair, and stare out his window, and watch the hummingbirds come to a small red feeder that hanged from a wrought iron post nearby.
He loved to watch the hummingbirds, because they moved faster than anything he had ever seen. If he knew how to count, he could have counted each individual wing beat and studied their flight patterns, and their feathers. Perhaps he could have written books, if he had known how to write, but of course he did not. Instead, he lived in a world of ideas and concepts, free from words and expressions. He lived in a sea of seeping, shifting colors and droning, rumbling noises.
The only thing the man enjoyed more than watching the hummingbirds was going to the beach. And, on occasion, the home staff could take a group of the better behaved patients, of which he was always one for he never did much, and would take them on a field trip. On this particular day, the beach was their destination, and the man was excited to be in the bus, although he was not sure where they were going. When they arrived, he was overjoyed. It was overcast, and the waves were rolling vigorously, but to him, they were gentle and calming. He shuffled down the sand, using a cane to walk, because perceiving motion at such a slow rate disoriented his from walking normally. The other patients went past, moving in that strange way where they rise off the ground mysteriously.
They past down the large dune covered in reeds just as the man was reaching the top. He paused there to admire the cool air in his face, when he noticed a the reeds moving against the wind. He looked, and there appeared a small, furry creature he had never seen before. It approached him and began to crawl up his leg and back. He did not move until he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, which caused him to jolt forward. In that moment, it was if everything that was once hazy became clear, and he understood, and he saw, and he felt.
"Come with me." The creature bid him follow, and the man understood, and knew this was an eeyeye He left his cane, and followed him to his ship and left.
This was the beginning of a story my dad told me and my siblings when we were little and he needed to fill time when we were left out in the car while Mom shopped for groceries. He called this story Remember I, and would give us updates as he made up more parts. The beginning always stuck with me, and since we were talking about the truth one perceives to be real, it reminded me of Dad's story. My dad told it orally, so this written interpretation isn't exactly the same, but I hope it encompasses the thoughts and ideas of the original, which is forever a shell of its original self in my memory.
Inspiration
"You people with hearts," he said, "have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn't mind so much."
- Tin Woodman, The Wizard of Oz
Rocky, 1976
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