Stories and the Power they Contain

Noticing the way that Beckett uses his language and style to let us understand that he is just telling us a story makes me think about some of the stories in my life that are quite remarkable.  One of my favorite family stories has to do with my Great Grandfather.  My great grandfather was blind by the age of 18.  When he was a young child, probably around 10 or so; he, in competition with his five other siblings, took the last biscuit out from under his older brother. His older brother, appalled by this action, stabbed him in the eye with a fork!  The first time I heard this made me shiver in horror and awe for that fact that my great uncle must have been crazy or hungry as hell to stab his younger brother in the eye.  So there is my Grandfather with only one good eye left.  He's 18 years old and driving across his families homestead.  He's heading into town to celebrate his graduating from high school.  His friends are also celebrating and decide to pull a prank on him.  They lay out some barbwire on the road in order to give him a flat or two.  I don't really see the humor in this trick.  Turns out the barbwire is blown into the air, through the windshield of my grandpa's vehicle and glass explodes into the face and eyes of my grandfather.  He is now blind. This story of how my grandfather became blind always fascinated me; it increased the respect I have for him and my family.  Turns out it was all a story.

My Great Grandfather was blind. He did get his eye poked out by a fork when he was 10. Except, it was his own fault, he tripped on the floor and ploop, there goes an eye.  As for the other eye, since his depth perception was off he accidentally went through a single wire fence, smashing his windshield and driving glass into his other eye. I just learned the truth of this story from my grandfather over Christmas break. I was a little dis-heartened; but, after I think about it he was blind from 18 till he passed away and is still one of my most respected relatives.  I'm going to continue to tell the story of how he became blind the way I want.  Everyone loves and desires a good story. 

Groundhog's Day

Woke up on this fine, freezing February morning. Not at 6am though, today is one of the days I get to sleep in so I pushed my Groundhog's Day to 9am.  It started out as any other day. Phone alarm woke me up, rolled out of my bed and went to the bathroom. Showers feel exceptional when you take your time and let the sleep just drain away.  After dressing and packing my books up I headed up stairs to break my fast.  Walking up stairs and feeling all your quad and hamstring muscles firing makes me realize that my body is a precise, wonderful machine. I need to start taking better care of my temple.  Before I started cooking I called a masseuse and set up a time. Every Groundhog's day should involve a massage.  Sausage, onion, green pepper, and cheese omelet is a palate explosion that I was willing to risk. So I started to crack the egg. It slipped out of my hand, plunk, onto the floor. Ahh, so frustrating I hate cleaning up a whole raw egg, so slimy.  What is wrong with me? Why did I make such a blunder? Thinking about it for a minute, this beautiful face illuminated my mind.  Heather, a girl in one of my other classes that caught my attention.

We'd been exchanging pleasantries outside of class since the beginning of the semester and it was finally time to make a move.  After realizing what my mission was that afternoon, the walk to campus became a jubilant stroll filled with the best music my ipod has to offer. The fresh chilled breezed filled my lungs and not only lifted my spirits but lifted my feet. No one has ever called me nimble, but earlier today my feet felt light as feathers.  Today was not going to be an average Groundhog's day.

But after arriving in the Fieldhouse, it became just that.  I went and worked out, lifted the same weights, performed the same activities, talked with the same people. For those few hours everything seemed average. Well, not average because I was concentrating super hard on all I was doing, thanks Professor Sexson.  

After the routiness of my day; waking up, breakfast (minus the egg), the walk (minus the walk), my workout, and class: the deadline of my mission was fast approaching.  Class ended and just as each class previously had ended I found myself walking across campus with Heather.  We chit-chatted about the book we were reading among other everyday pleasantries. The end of the conversation was coming upon us.  Kill-switch engage.

I asked her if she would like to get dinner with me sometime. She asked when. I told her you think of an evening you'd like to go out and I'll give you a call later.  She agreed to it, said goodbye and we parted. I had a date this weekend with a beautiful girl, I'm paying extra special attention to all my activities and surroundings, everything is feeling better than it ever has and I've never been happier.

Did Puxitawny Phil see his shadow? Six more months of winter or is spring arriving? I don't even know and frankly, I don't even care. This has been by far one of the best Groundhog's Day I've ever re-lived.