[5244] in Central_America
New quotes for Fri Dec 31
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Central America)
Fri Dec 31 05:06:11 1993
Date: Fri, 31 Dec 1993 05:05:40 -0500
From: Central America <root@charon.MIT.EDU>
To: ca-mtg@charon.MIT.EDU
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ckclark (Calvin Clark):
The Twenty-Fifth Somersault (for Rachel, at age seven)
When we were seven we could do impossible things. We could slide in
heavy rubber boots on a thin crust of frozen snow, and not break it or
fall down. We could catch twenty-five bumblebees in a Skippy jar and
not harm or lose even one. When we were seven, shooting stars wielded
real pistols and stuffed toys led their own lives when no one was
looking. We could take the T-bars alone and be yanked up into the air
and spun around two dozen and one times from bottom to top, then leap
off, always facing the right way on the ski trail.
When we were seven you asked me to sit on your doorstep while you went
inside. You came out with two raw potatoes, a paring knife, and a bowl
of vinegar. I had never seen anything like it before, but you managed
to convince me with a single slice that even the simplest and craziest
things can be good if you're just willing to try enough of them. We
sat, ate, and hardly talked at all.
When I was seven I had a recurrent nightmare in
which my father, a strong but old man, hefted an
enormous sack over his head and threw it into a
ditch. Suddenly, he clutched himself in pain and
fell in the ditch himself, face up, mouth open;
superimposed on his eye was a red rifle cross hair,
and through the pupil in the center of the cross I
could see blood dripping on the back of his skull.
When you were seven you lifted up your shirt in
school to show everyone your ``tities''; there was
no end of speculation among the cruder boys I knew,
and it was hard to tell whose minds were more
wretched: those of the boys who wondered precisely
how one might verify if your hair was really as red
as it looked, or those of their mothers who spread
viperous gossip about your upbringing.
I never knew why you shared your potatoes with me, or why we didn't talk
about anything. I could have told you why I had my nightmares, and you
could have told me why you showed your tities, but you didn't ask and I
didn't ask; therein lies the wisdom of children. It's been eighteen
years and I honestly don't remember much about you except what I've
already said. If it means anything at all, I can't recall your tities,
though I must have been there; in fact, my only clear impressions from
the whole year are the sound of snow crackling underfoot, the violet hue
and sweet aroma of lilacs in the spring, and the taste sliced raw potato
dipped in vinegar.
When we were seven, we could dive into dragonfly-infested ponds and do
twenty-five somersaults underwater without coming up for air. And now,
as I near the end of the twenty-fifth of a set of bigger somersaults, it
still all seems impossible and I wonder: if I come up for air, will the
magic disappear?
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jcbourne (Juliet C Bourne):
TR 12-1:30 CIS 502 "Analysis of Algorithms"
MW 9-10:30 CIS 511 "Theory of Computation"
MW 1:30-3 CIS 639 "Statistical Approaches to Natural Language Understanding"
MW 3-4:30 CIS 630 "Seminar in Natural Language Processing"
---
Email is forwarded to: jcb@gradient.cis.upenn.edu.
---
Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream
It is not dying / It is not dying
Lay down all thought, surrender to the void
It is shining / It is shining
That you may see the meaning of within
It is being / It is being
("Tomorrow Never Knows", _Revolver_, The Beatles)
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sorokin (Jessie Stickgold-Sarah):
Seen in the Coop:
I'm taking the plunge by saying
what a birthday card has
NEVER said before:
The rhino sleeps in the apricot tree;
but Tuesday, the typewriter will
choose the yogurt.
--- End of Central America ---
