Apr. 18, 2003 - 12:43 p.m.
Dear Meghan:
It is funny you should mention your identification of the phrase ‘sea of trees’; today is quite gloomy in Chicago, and it’s very much like a tundra of sky. My law office window looks over a forest of water.
Perhaps you have seen the film “The Untouchables”? Perhaps not? Should you ever happen upon the move, you should take note of one scene. The Union Station/baby carriage scene. Though I do not frequent Union Station, I can be seen as a sailor boy for about two seconds. My radio instructor – Captain Joe, as he liked to be called – was an expert at being an extra in films. He’s the mustached bum in that scene, and he’s the reason I am in there as well. I have a few other extra bits in films, but I’d hate to overwhelm you with stories of playing Man on Street or, my personal favorite, Japanese Pilot #4.
Every once in a while, a lesson I learned in school re-surfaces in my mind and is filtered through the grown-up sensibility I have attempted to develop. Such a thing happened this morning. I recall being taught about a fellow who embedded (our nation’s newest catch-word) himself in Indian culture in order to understand it better – and in this instance, I mean Indians who live in India, not those who used to live in the United States. So this fellow went to India, and joined a tribe high up in the Himalayas, who worshipped cows above and beyond the usual respect granted these animals in most of India. They worshipped the cows so much, in fact, that they routinely did their washing-up by utilizing cow urine. This fellow, in order to fully assimilate himself, followed suit and washed up with cow piss as well. As luck would have it, he grew terribly ill after a while and had to return home to recuperate. Once he felt better, he returned to the Indian tribe and started washing up with cow urine again. Then he died.
When I learned this lesson, Meghan, I was astounded at his bravery and dedication to learning – no doubt this admiration is why the lesson has been in the back of my mind these last twenty years. This morning, however, as the lesson ran tickertape-style through my mind, I thought, “This guy was a friggin’ idiot!” If I was to immerse myself in another culture, I’d pick the Eskimos or something, not one that would lead – with clear signs – to my ultimate demise.
Not only that, but I can only imagine the uncomfortable discussion this fellow must have had with his doctor when he returned home for the first time. “You are extremely ill – and you stink. What do you do to stay clean?” “Oh, I wash up with piss.” “What?” “Cow urine, actually. I wash up with it.” “Why?” “To assimilate into another culture.” “You’re mad, but it’s good you got home when you did. I can make you better.” “Good, because I want to go back.” “What? And wash up with more urine?” “Oh, yeh.” “You’re mad.”
Today, as the above story may indicate, I am in a cynical mood, but I must also state I feel relatively good about it. Whatever mood I’m in, I try to take advantage of it and find something to write about. There’s material everywhere and, certainly, one of my favorite things about this extended dialog is how many tales you and I have to spin. As you yourself mentioned, the best and worst of me is in these dozens of letters.
To continue the cynicism a bit further, today is Good Friday. The day always brings to mind one of the first times I really began to question religion. It was a small step for me, a large step for mekind. This occurred when I was becoming obsessed with being a comedian/weather guy, and soon after I discovered that different places tend to have different temperatures. One day, I asked Mom, “Jesus died at 3pm, right?” “Yes, honey.” “Was that local time or Central Daylight Savings Time?”
The remainder of the discussion, as I recall, inspired some hedging on my mother’s part, though ultimately I no longer had to stay inside the house prior to 3pm (a rule imposed by the Catholic side of the family – or Dad, as it is commonly referred to as). It was agreed that it was probably 3pm local time, which meant Jesus died very, very early in the morning Central Daylight Savings Time.
A few years would go by before another major argument/discussion would surface, the “if Jesus was half God, how would a few nails kill him?” one. A few more years would have to pass before the “if God is all-powerful, could he create a stone he couldn’t lift?” argument. And even more years would have to go by until I hit the “whatever you believe in is fine with me” stance. Which leads us to today.
Later today, I’m going to have a glass of sandwich…
Wickedly,
Vincent
what they said - what they will say
