11,903. RUDIMENTS, pt.743

RUDIMENTS, pt. 743

(puddings and fruit-cups too)

Sometimes I used to just 

pretend I was blind, figuring 

it was easier with one's eyes

closed to remember things  -  

where they were, how they 

were situated, etc., in sort 

of a program of enhanced

awareness. Something to

carry over into everyday

and mundane matters. It 

was fine, yes, until I'd walk

into a pole, or a parked car,

whatever  -  but the point 

was taken and the finer-honed

senses took root. You know

how they say, about detectives

or whatever, that he or she

has a 'nose' for things, to see

clues and stuff that others

miss. It's like that  -  and it's

great for an artist or a writer.

Also, there used to be a fairly

good joke about blindness,

in line with this, but the

opposite too  -  'How did 

Helen Keller's parents

punish here when she'd

done something bad?' They'd

rearrange the furniture. It's

like that Matteo Ricci guy

again, back in the old middle 

ages, when he went to China.

He'd worked up a system called

the 'Memory Palace'  -  by which

whatever he was trying to have

a memory of, he'd mentally

erect a room diagram and place

within it, at specific locations, the

thing, each thing, he wanted to

remember. He'd trained his mind

then to sift through things in his

head, and remember 'this' was 
'there,' etc. It all Sounds more 
complicated than it really
was. It could work.

-

I never harbored grudges much,

mainly because I could never

even get the issues right nor

understand the importance. I

suppose if I did, someone like

me could be really angry, like

a volcano, if I wanted. Bring

on the mob-scene. So I had

to stay just off the front-lines

in order to remain detached

enough to not be a crazy man.

One thing I did notice was

that when people get all keyed

up over something  -  an issue 

or a cause or a movement  -

it's not THAT to which they

are referring. Those things 

are always covers for some 

other projected turmoils, within, 

that they are dealing with or 

trying to work out. All analysts

makes their careers based on

figuring stuff like this out and

charging for the advice, and for

the listening of it all too. In the

seminary, the cook was known

as a sort of crazy man  -  from

what I saw, maybe he was just

intense, and drank too. Maybe

that odd work he did was his

own private therapy. I guess.

He was swarthy and slick enough

to be Spanish, or so I figured

anyway, judging mostly from the

Spanish-tile red roof on the very

Mediterranean looking villa he

and the staff stayed in. The best 
building on the entire campus,
and the Head Chef and cook staff 
gets it. There was a nice little
ramble of woods running off 
behind it  I'd walk through there
to practice aloud my lines in the 
various plays and  productions  we 
were doing. I'd learned that there
had been some ancient Greek orator
named Demosthenes who used to
walk the shoreline with pebbles in
his mouth, practicing aloud his
speeches. His claim was that all
that jumble in one's mouth would
clarify one's words and diction once
the pebbles were no longer there.
Yeah, so I tried that too.
-  
The cooking staff was all black people,

most probably from Camden, via the

seep south. The bulk of them, the

ladies, were bulk, to be redundant;

hefty mamas, Aunt Jemima like.

Every so often there'd be one or

two changeovers, and even,

occasionally, some rather pleasant

'new' females' would step in. A

number of them stayed together,

in that same red-roofed house. 

As did the main guy. I never 

knew what went on. Funny 

though, was, how most of the 

foods we got were southern : 

corn bread, pork, chitlins,

scrapple, waffles and syrup, 

and all sorts of 'mixed' and

jumbled up vegetables and

diced or cubed roots and

vines. Seemed like to me. 

Those cook-staff people

must have done a lot of 

switched-shifts and long hours,

and those who were 'on' never

did get much leisure time

until their relief came. Imagine

all that prep and cooking, 3-times

a day, mind you, for 300 boys

and staff (just a guess). We

always got coffee; it was

everywhere, at each table,

metal coffee pots always

refilled. It was, I think, 8

guys to a table, all served,

coffee, milk, teas, and all

those condiments and things

at center on each table. And 

then we'd get a tray, and walk 

up, kind of lined up, to the

dispensing area, where, like

any sort of buffet kind of thing,

people would load up your plates

and all with that meal's food.

And you'd walk back to your 

table. You could go back as

much as you wanted, but no

one really overdid anything.

We had some fat guys too  -

like Peter Flaherty, but most 

of his excess I think came from

his habit of always hanging 

around the junk-food vending 

machines at the sports and

gym building (and showers

and lockers too). They had

all sorts of junk  -  candies,

chips, pretzels, most anything,

for about a quarter, from some

7 or 8 different machines. It

was pretty cool, and they had

one machine, even I liked it,

that had ice cream sandwiches.

A big hit with everyone.

-

Other things were just too

funny, actually. We each had to

have a napkin ring! Whoever

heard of that? And cloth napkins.

I remember my mother's reaction

to the list, when it was sent to

our house, that Summer before

I went : each kid needed a soap

dish. Yep, everyone had their

own stupid, flip-top, plastic

soap-dish (they were all about

the same) and their own bar of

soap. No communal soap, no

communal bathings or wash-downs.

Oh, OK! Each piece of clothing

needed sewn-in name tags. We

ordered what we needed, and

my Aunt Mary, in Bayonne,

would come down and do all 

the sewing. That was on everything,

mind you, shirts, socks, jackets,

etc. I forget how it went with

the cloth napkins, but I do still

remember laundry-details being

a real pain. I scrimped a lot,

and sometimes wore things for 

a long time, just to avoid the

laundering  -  work and bill.

No matter how ideal it all 

seemed, every aspect of it 

eventually did become a pain 

to deal with.

-

That kitchen staff, again, let

me mention, they had to, 3-times

daily, have all that food prepared,

and, in addition, they had to have

everything cleaned and turned

around again, probably in another

4 hours, for another round of

eating  -  there must have been

a slew of things to do! Trays,

dishes, cups, plates, leftover crud,

old food, new food. Remember

how Is aid I was on the pig

feeding staff. Those porkers

ate pretty well. So, there was

a lot of activity, kitchen-wise,

at any one time  -  accounting 

for the large staff. (I can't

remember, now, what kind of

bread we got, or if they made

it or it was commercial; but there

was always cornbread, pies and

desserts, puddings and fruit cups.

If I was really blind, I'd have

never seen my way to eating

all that stuff; for sure.