RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,242
(one way or the other)
Sometimes you can enfold crazy, and
not let it out, and it bursts at its seams.
That's when trouble ensues. Most of the
time though, one has to keep the sense
of the irrational in check and appear
ordinary, within bounds, and quite
sensible too. In our local neighborhood,
we had a kid who - for all practical
purposes represented that in one of
the more bizarre ways I've ever seen.
Up until about age 8, thereabouts, he
was the most brash, loudest, unruly
kids you'd ever see. All of us other
kids around him stayed an extra
half-inch away from him, and his
unpredictable outbursts - whether
verbal or physical The kid was
pretty much out of control; he'd
walk and 'rule' the nearby schoolyard,
and anyone crossing him was apt
to be in big trouble, and soon. His
father had something to do with
the Museum of Natural History,
in NYC, and none of his really
knew what he did there; dusting
bones, digging dinosaurs, or
whatever. (It could have been
most anything, but the houses we
lived in were not of the sort that
represented big money, high wages,
or, for that matter, 'professional'
situations. So, who knew.
-
One year, they went down to Florida,
for some sort of family vacation, for
a week or so. I don't remember what
time of year it was, though most
people go to Florida to escape their
own, 'local, Winters. In any case,
while there, this kid fell off a sliding
board or a diving board or somesuch
and smashed his head on concrete.
He was out of circulation a long time,
whether there or back to some NY
or NJ hospital, we never knew. He
had gone blind, from the fall. None
of us knew what to make of that. He
eventually, after a long time, returned
to the fold, remaining quite separate
now - as he had a blind-person's
cane, and closed eyes, and tapped
his way along everywhere, walking
and manuevering. From that point
on, whether he was with a retainer
(person) who helped him, or not,
we mostly let him alone. None of
us knew what to do, nor were we
really 'comfortable' with his new
situation. But, weirdly enough,
from that time on he became the
most gentle, quiet, calm and reserved
kid we'd have around. All that crazed
thrashing and anger was gone. No
more raging noise. No more bluster.
-
The street he lived on was the same
street our local (Catholic) church
was on - with its marauding nuns,
the disciplining furor of maidens
in starched, fearsome outfits. Penguin
suits, we often called them. Poor girls.
A few were meek and mild, reticent
about everything, but the few 'sisters'
in charge were blustering and always
outrageous. There seemed something
lackey in their daily makeup, a flaw
in character that had to be compensated
for by taking their repressed urges
out on children - pulling hair, twisting
ears, etc., for the most meaningless and
stupid infractions. Something was
surely wrong in their 'Heaven.'
-
Without getting too bogged down here,
I want to make the connection between
the portrayals we were given between
versions of Heavan and Hell. They had
been arranged and portrayed to us, in
lockstep, as opposites by which the very
judgment of God would render us either
blissful or in misery, for (and to?) the
very end days of whatever version of
eternity these miserable nuns and
teachers and priests could conceive.
('Conceiving,' of course - whether
virginally or through intercourse, was
one of the human things disallowed to
them. Perhaps thus the rage). It had
never exactly been explained to us, in
a Calvinist sense anyway, how any
of this might be played out during
one's very life on Earth, BUT, as if
some secret gong had gone off, the
parallels between that kid's previous
behaviors and what had happened
to him - and then the changes that
ensued - stood to many of us a new
and frightful example of God's will
at work. This fellows outbursts had
caused him a blindness as retribution?
This was the bizarre end-result of
poor deportment? We too were to
be under that same indictment unless
we reserved to ourselves an awareness
and a consciousness of the constant
'God-watch' we were under?
-
There's not really anything a kid
can do about that sort of thing and,
certainly, the determination of such
'religious' facts and figments is really
nothing a child should spend time on
- although it's a fact that probably
lots of time is actually spent on those
very items : the figments and the
imaginings, during very impressionable
times - of Gods, Goddesses, myths,
father-figures, punishments, eternity,
sin, punishment, doom and doubt as
well. (Until, for boys, some sort of
military service is called for and
all of that is thrown by the wayside).
-
The blind kid eventually disappeared
from sight (no pun) - whether they
moved away, or he matured and entered
some home of school for the blind, etc.,
I never knew. It's a blank spot, and one
that was never filled in (I think the
word for that is 'lacuna' - one of
the oddest words I'd ever run across.
I can remember first hearing it spoken
by William Buckley on one of his
'Firing Line' show TV interview
broadcasts - one of his gimmicks
was to use palatial vocabulary and
seldom-heard words. He had this
strange tic, too, of raising his
eyebrows as he used the word(s),
as if he knew he was teasing his
audience with his own verbal and
Connecticut-wealthy, superiority.
-
The memory stayed with me, and
whenever I'd see a tall sliding-board
or a high-diving board or whatever,
the glimmering after-effect of this
childhood friend's 'punishment' and
doom reared again its ugly head.
Whether or not anything like that
was correct, or even true, I never
learned. One way, or the other, for
good or for bad.
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