The Man Born Blind

"Bless us!" said Mary. "There's eleven o'clock. And you're nearly asleep, Robin."
She rose with a bustle of familiar noises, bundling her and her little cardboard boxes into the work-basket. "Come on, lazy-bones!" she said. "You want to be nice and rested for your first walk tomorrow."
"That reminds me," said Robin, and then stopped. His heart was beating so loudly that he was afraid it would make his voice sound odd. He had to wait before he went on. "I suppose," he said, "there...there'll be light out there - when I go for that walk?"
"What do you mean, dear?" said Mary. "You mean it will be lighter out of doors? Well, yes, I suppose it will. But I must say I always think this is a very light house. This room, now. We've had sun on it all day."
"The sun makes it...hot?" said Robin tentatively.
"What are you talking about?" said Mary, suddenly turning round. She spoke sharply, in what Robin called her 'governess' voice.
"I mean," said Robin, "well, look here, Mary. There's a thing I've been meaning to ask you ever since I came back from the nursing home. I know it'll sound silly to you. But then it's different for me. As soon as I knew I had a chance of getting my sight, of course I looked forward. The last thing I thought before the operation was "light". Then all those days afterwards, waiting till they took the bandages off - "
"Of course, darling. That was only natural."
"Then, then, why don't I...I mean, where is the light?"
She laid her hand on his arm. Three weeks of sight had not yet taught him to read the expression of a face, but he knew by her touch the great warm wave of stupid, frightened affection that had welled up in her.
"Why not come to bed, Robin dear?" she said. "If it's anything important, can't we talk about it in the morning? You know you're tired now."
"No. I've got to have this out. You've got to tell me about light. Great Scot - don't you want me to know?"
She sat down suddenly with a formal calmness that alarmed him.
"Very well, Robin," she said. "Just ask me anything you like. There's nothing to be worried about - is there?"
"Well then, first of all, there's light in this room at present?"
"Of course there is."
"Then were is it?"
"Why, all around us."
"Can you see it?"
"Yes."
"Then why can't I?"
"But, Robin, you can. Dear, do be sensible. You can see me, can't you, and the mantelpiece, and the table and everything?"
"Are those light? Is that all it means? Are you light? Is the mantelpiece light? Is the table light?"
"Oh! I see. No. Of course not. That's the light," and she pointed to the bulb, roofed with its broad pink shade, that hung from the ceiling.
"If that's light, why did you tell me the light was all round us?"
"I mean, that's what gives the light. The light comes from there."
"Then where is the light itself? You see, you won't say. Nobody will say. You tell me the light is here and the light is there, and this is in the light and that is in the light, and yesterday you told me I was in your light, and now you say that light is a bit of yellow wire in a glass bulb hanging from the ceiling. Call that light? Is that what Milton was talking about? What are you crying about? If you don't know what light is, why can't you say so? If the operation has been a failure and I can't see properly after all, tell me. If there's no such thing - if it was all a fairy tale from the beginning - tell me. But for God's sake - "
"Robin! Robin! Don't. Don't go on like that."
"Go on like what?" The he gave up and apologized and comforted her, and they went to bed.
A blind man has few friends; a blind man who has received his sight has, in a sense, none. He belongs neither to the world of the blind nor to that of the seeing, and no one can share his experience. After that night's conversation Robin never mentioned to anyone his problem about light. He knew he would only be suspected of madness. When Mary took him out the next day for his first walk he replied to everything she said, "It's lovely - all lovely, just let me drink it in," and she was satisfied. She interpreted his quick glances as glances of delight. In reality, of course, he was searching, searching with a hunger that had already something of desperation in it. Even had he dared, he knew it would be useless to ask her of any of the objects he saw, "Is that light?" He could see himself that she would only answer, "No. That's green" (or 'blue', or 'yellow', or 'a field', or 'a tree' or 'a car'). Nothing could be done until he had learned to go for walks by himself.
About five weeks later Mary had a headache and took breakfast in bed. As Robin came downstairs he was for a moment shocked to notice the sweet feeling of escape that came with her absence. Then, with a long, shameless sigh of comfort, he deliberately closed his eyes and groped across the dining-room to his bookcase - for this one morning he would give up the tedious business of guiding himself by his eyes and judging distances and would enjoy the old, easy methods of the blind. Without effort his fingers ran down the row of faithful Braille books and and picked out the worn volume he wanted. He slipped his hand between the leaves and shuffled across to the table, reading as he went. Still with his eyes shut, he cut up his food, laid down the knife, took the fork up in his left hand and began reading with his right. He realized at once that this was the first meal he had really enjoyed since the recovery of his sight. It was also the first book he had really enjoyed. He had been very quick, everyone told him, in learning to read by sight, but it would never be the real thing. 'W-a-t-e-r' could be spelled out; but never, never would those black marks be wedded to their meaning in Braille, where the very shape of the characters communicated an instantaneous sense of liquidity though his fingertips. He took a long time over breakfast. Then he went out.
There was a mist this morning, but he had encountered mists before and this did not trouble him. He walked through it, out of the little town and up the steep hill and then along the field path that ran round the lip of the quarry. Mary had taken him there a few days ago to show him what she called the 'view'. And while they had sat looking at it she had said, "What a lovely light that is on the hills over there." It was a wretched clue, for he was now convinced that she knew no more about light than he did, that she used the word but meant nothing by it. He was even beginning to suspect that most of the un-blind were in the same position. What one heard among them was merely the parrot-like repetition of a rumor - the rumor of something that perhaps (it was his last hope) great poets and prophets of old had really known and seen. It was on their testimony alone that he still hoped. It was still just possible that somewhere in the world, not everywhere as fools had tried to make him believe, guarded in deep woods or divided by distant seas, the thing Light might actually exist, springing up like a fountain or growing like a flower.
The mist was thinning when he came to the lip of the quarry. To left and right more and more trees were visible, and their colours grew brighter and brighter every moment. His own shadow lay before him; he noticed that it became blacker and firmer-edged while he looked at it. The birds were singing too and he was quite hot. "But still no Light", he muttered. The sun was visible behind him but the pit of the quarry was still full of mist - a shapeless whiteness, now almost blindingly white.
Suddenly he heard a man singing. Someone whom he had not noticed before was standing near the Cliff edge with his legs wide apart dabbing at an object which Robin could not recognize. If he had been more experienced he would have recognized it as a canvas on an easel. As it was, his eyes met the eyes of this wild-looking stranger so unexpectedly that he had blurted out "What are you doing?" before he realized it.
"Doing?" said the stranger with a certain savagery. "Doing? I'm trying to catch light, if you want to know, damn it."
A smile came over Robin's face. "So am I," he said, and came a step nearer.
"Oh - you know too, do you?" said the other. Then, almost vindictively, 'They're all fools. How many of them come out to paint on a day like this, eh? How many of them will recognize it if you show 'em? And yet if they could open their eyes, it's the only sort of day in the whole year when you can really see light, solid light, that you can drink in a cup or bathe in! Look at it!"
He caught Robin roughly by the arm and pointed into the depths at their feet. The fog was at death-grips with the sun, but not a stone on the quarry floor was yet visible. The bath of vapour shone like white metal and unfolded itself continually in ever-widening spirals towards them. "Do you see that?" shouted the violent stranger. "There's light for you if you like it!"
A second later the expression on the painter's face changed. "Here!" he cried. "Are you mad?" He made a grab at Robin. But he was too late. Already he was alone on the path. From beneath a new-made and rapidly vanishing rift in the fog there came up no cry but only a sound so sharp and definite that you would hardly expect it to have been made by the fall of anything so soft as a human body; that, and some rattling of loosened stones.

-by C. S. Lewis

I hope you enjoyed this short story. We read it today in English, and it was...touching? Not as in fluffy-bunny touching, but moving...you know. C.S. Lewis is the most amazing author. I don't think many other authors have moved me to tears like he has.

The Thoughts of Andrew and Joseph Upon Smoking Their First Cigars

12/02/07

The legal smoking age in Italy is 16. When the boys found out about that, they decided they wanted to smoke their first cigars there. So, one day when we were in the lovely town of Siena, Fr. Foos searched out and purchased three Cuban cigars: one for him, one for Joe, and one for the eager Andrew. I had them write out their experiences in my journal, and here are their thoughts for one and all to read. Thanks guys!

"Well, Sarah wants me to write on my experience on how my first cigar was so here it goes...All day everybody was building it up saying that I am not going to like it and that I am going to throw up after the first couple puffs. So I get it lit up and start smoking it. Some said that I looked more natural than Joe. But I never threw up. About halfway through the cigar I started to feel a bit dizzy so I sat down. It was a Cuban Habana cigar, and I liked it! While I was smoking it, it went around and Bekah, Amanda and Sarah had a few puffs as well. Towards the end of the cigar it started to taste ashy, so I put it out and saved it so that I can remember my first cigar in Italy." - Andrew Bradley, age 17.

It's true...some of we girls had a few puffs as well. I consider it a nasty habit for women to smoke, and especially to smoke cigars. Fr. Foos actually gave me his to try, which was shocking, if you know him. What are my thoughts on the subject? It felt like having warm smoke in my mouth...I personally don't think it would be much different if I held my mouth over a campfire!! But anyway, moving right along...

"Most of what Andrew said works for my story as well. Honestly, I wasn't super impressed. I mean, it was fun because it seemed like a rite of passage. I couldn't smell or taste a lot, and I don't know if I was doing it right because my cigar kept going out. However, I didn't get dizzy and I didn't vomit. I simply had a relaxing evening with my friends." - Joseph Salvatore...er...Don Giuseppe Salvatore, age 17

There you go.

My First Day In Italia

11/30/07

Our first day in Italy. Roma, actually. We explored the city quite a bit today, and our feet are all quite sore. At least mine are, anyway! We just finished our first Italian dinner, which consisted of wonderful bread, olives, Parmesan cheese, prosciutto and red peppers with cioccolato and meringues for dessert. And, of course, there was vino. It was my first glass of wine ever...technically, I should say plastic cup of wine, since our budget did not include the purchasing of wine glasses each time we had a meal. I don't believe I'll ever be much of a wine-drinker, but it is great fun to try it.
Last night was by far the the worst, and yet the most memorable, travel experience we (the company of St. Andrew's Academy) have ever had. After leaving San Fransisco at 3:30 pm, we landed in Amsterdam, the city of pot and sex shops, at 10:30 am local time. I didn't get a lick of sleep on the plane due to a tempting assortment of movies provided for the entertainment of the passengers. We spent about five hours touring the city, then we boarded another flight to Roma. We met up with Fr. Brown in the airport, and that is when our pleasant travel experiences came to an end. No, not because of Fr. Brown. He is one of the most entertaining people I have ever met. It was because of the silly traditions of the Italianos. You see, on random days, the Metro (subway) or the bus system will go on strike, leaving the poor travelers in a lurch. We got a train from the airport to the city just fine, but after we found our stop for the train and got off to get to the Metro station, there was trouble. It was strike day. So what do we do? We get on a crowded bus...standing for half an hour in a crush of people with our huge backpacks on. Then we walked. Fr. Brown cheerily told us that the hostel was surely no farther than a block or so from the bus stop. It was pouring rain, we were exhausted, and it was midnight. Not very good walking conditions. But we had to get there somehow. So walking it was. We walked for about an hour in the rain before we stopped for directions. Then we walked another hour, and finally, we found it. 2 am in the morning, soaked to the skin...I'm sure we made a great impression on the desk clerk. So anyway, that was our fantastic first night. (Looking back on it now, I think it was quite fun!)
We slept in until 8:30 this morning. I know, not very much sleep, but 8:30 is sleeping in for us. We usually get up at 5. We ate our breakfast of a roll and cocoa, then walked into Rome. We walked about 12 blocks to the Vatican City, which we had walked through the night before in the rain. It is absolutely beautiful this morning, and the statues of the saints surrounding the walls stand out clearly against the blue sky. Afterwards, we wandered more, then met up with Fr. Brown at the Pantheon (btw, he is studying at the Vatican! He's a Roman Catholic priest...used to live here in the Lake Almanor basin). We ate our lunch of bread, cheese and salami underneath the ancient Egyptian obelisk, then went inside the Pantheon, which is now a functional church. The ceiling has a hole in it! It was made on purpose by the Greeks, for what reason I have no idea. So when it rains, it rains inside too! There are two kings and a queen buried there.
From there, we went to one of the five most famous Gelaterias in Roma! It was SOOOOO unbelievably good! I had cioccolato, limone and ciliegia (chocolate, lemon and cherry). The flavor was unbelievable! There were some interesting flavors there too, such as Rum and Champagne. Joseph picked the most unusual combination - chocolate, champagne, and rose. He let me have a taste, and the champagne definitely tasted like champagne!
Afterwards, we walked another few miles to the (drumroll please!) COLOSSEUM!!! Yes, the absolutely huge ancient Roman structure where so many lives were taken for the pleasure of the populace. I couldn't believe it. The walls rise up well over 1000 feet, and the wooden flooring was completely gone, leaving the dungeons exposed to our sight. I can only imagine the roaring crowds watching the gladiators and martyrs die. The sun was just beginning to set, and the light hit the ancient stones beautifully. I wish I could have seen it in it's original, marble-covered condition.

"Oh you who travel along the via Flaminia, do not walk past this illustrious marble. The delight of the city, the joy of Egypt, art and grace, laughter and voluptuousness, the ornament and the grief of the Roman theatre, all pleasures and all desires are there, buried in the tomb of Paris." - Martial, Epigrams

As we walked away, we saw a person impersonating a sarcophagi with a coin can beneath him. There are people like this all over the city. They hold impossibly still, some never move, some only move when you drop a euro in the can. Anyway, as we walked past, Andrew kicked over the can accidentally. It made a huge crashing noise, and Mandy freaked out! She thought the guy had jumped off his pedestal and was chasing her, so without even looking back, she screamed and started running as fast as she could! It was absolutely hilarious!
We then went to the Apostle's Church, where the Apostles Philip and James the Less are buried. We were able to descend below the altar to where they lie in their tombs. It was unbelievable. The feeling of holiness surrounded me like a thick blanket. I am not joking. It was like entering into a different world. It was amazing. Being in the same room as two men who walked with Jesus was definitely a wonderful experience. (St. Peter is buried underneath the altar at St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City...)
We also climbed the Spanish steps, went to a French Mass at the church at the top of those steps, and saw the Trevi fountain. We then proceeded to the nearest deposito della drogheria (grocery store) and bought our supper. We are now on the top floor of Fr. Brown's "building". He lives in a 'monastery' of sorts. We had to climb up eight flights of stairs to reach this common room. The main thing about this trip is we definitely get a lot of exercise!

Another quote from the Colosseum -
"When the actor with his gaping mouth walks silently upon his high cothurni, which renders him gigantic, the spectators are gripped by fear. But when his voice booms out, they flee from the theatre as if they were pursued by a demon." - Philostratus, The Life of Apollonius of Tinene

Is This A Day When You Need Subtitles?

Alright, alright...I know I said this blog would be only for my own personal learning and for open discussions, but I thought this was a particularly amusing video. If you are having a hard day, watch this and remember that at least you don't need subtitles!!!

Lifehouse "Everything"

Just receintly I received a video from my friend Suzanne. She said to me, "You'll cry when you watch it, or at least be filled with deep emotions. I feel sick to my stomach everytime I watch it now." Ok, I know I am a complete sucker for anything that plays with the emotions, but this video really was amazing. I hope you watch this and see what I saw...not a group of kids acting out a skit, but a retelling of Christ's story, His passion, our shortcomings, and His divine forgiveness.

The Holocaust Remembrance Project

This past school year we of the elite St. Andrew's Academy Highschoolers were assigned to write a paper for a national contest, The Holocaust Remembrance Project. At first, I really had no desire to write such a paper, but then as I was reading the subject requirements, I realized how much my life was actually connected to the Holocaust. I went to the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. with my classmates in 2004. Walking through the museum was like living a nightmare. Seeing the absolute monstrosities that these people were put through shocked my poor fourteen year-old self. So, upon receiving the assignment three years later, I decided to use the experiences I gained from the tour to help me write this essay. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. (No, this essay won no awards, just the praise of family members.)

Thinking Back to the Holocaust...

“And then we got out of the train. And everything went so fast: left, right, right, left. Men separated from women. Children torn from the arms of mothers. The elderly chased like cattle. The sick, the disabled were handled like packs of garbage. They were thrown to a side together with broken suitcases, with boxes. My mother ran over to me and grabbed me by the shoulders, and she told me ‘Leibele, I’m not going to see you any more. Take care of your brother.’ ” (“The Holocaust: Personal Histories.”)
Twenty thousand Nazi concentration camps. Millions of Jewish prisoners. Fifteen years of persecution. Terror. Cruelty. Human suffering. This is the Holocaust.
How did this horrible tragedy come about, you ask? Why would someone wish such pain to befall innocent people? Pride and Prejudice. No, not the well beloved Jane Austen novel, but the actual sins of pride and prejudice. Whose pride? Whose prejudice? Adolf Hitler’s. He led the way, lighting the fuse which led to explosive anti-Semitism and the persecution of the Jews.
The persecution began with excluding the Jews from state services. Not being content with that, the German government rejected all Jewish students in the schools and universities, as well as all “Jewish activity” within the medical and legal professions. Finally, not only were the professing Jews affected, but all those who had converted to Christianity as well as any who had three of four Jewish grandparents. By 1938, Jews were physically divided from their fellow Germans and by 1929, they were forced to wear yellow stars declaring their heritage.
Then the true reign of terror began. Concentration camps had already been set up by the hundreds, solely for the purpose of forced labor, transit and extermination. The men and women that filled these camps were not only Jewish, but German Communists, Social Democrats, Gypsies, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and homosexuals. The people at these camps were treated horribly, forced to work until they dropped dead from exhaustion, hunger, and exposure. In some of these camps, medical experiments were performed on the prisoners, not all of them being dead. Finally, there were the extermination camps. Treblinka, Auschwitz, Birkenau...up to eight thousand were murdered in Birkenau daily.
“The doors of the cattle car were yanked open. The first thing we heard was shouts of, ‘Out, as soon as you can, out. Your belongings you leave there!’ Despite this we grabbed what we could and assembled outside. Before us stood an immense rectangle of land surrounded by electrically-charged barbed wire. This was the Auschwitz death camp.” (“A Tragic Legacy: Rudy at Auschwitz.”)
“At the end of 1944 I was moved again. This time I went south to a German concentration camp called Dachau closer to the Austrian border. By this time I was just a skeleton. Shortly after I arrived, camp officials decided it was time to leave. We could hear the machine guns...booming and they told us to march. The Allies were getting closer. I marched for about five kilometers to Allach...Then I fell. I couldn’t walk anymore. The rest of them continued walking. The Germans killed all the people who kept walking. That was the death march. I survived because I could not walk.” (“A Tragic Legacy: Ben at Auschwitz.”)
“At Auschwitz, people died of hunger because they had come to the camps already weakened. The people who had died there...were stacked like cordwood, naked, without dignity. Nobody to close their eyes...we knew they were taken to the crematory to be incinerated, but we still had no knowledge of the gas chambers and that people were killed or gassed in such numbers as they were...” (“A Tragic Legacy: Rudy at Auschwitz.”)
Why bring up these horrors to light again? Is it not better to forget and move on? No! It is our duty to remember. It is our duty to tell our children what prejudiced humans have done to fellow humans. Why? To prevent such a massacre and hatred of our fellow man. To protect the sanctity of life. To dwell in peace and harmony with one another, rather than pride and prejudice.
I have read about the horrors of the concentration camps. I have learned about Hitler’s passion to remove all “blemishes” from the perfect and proud German race. I have been to the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. I have seen the inhuman suffering. I have met a Holocaust survivor. I share the same family name as a Holocaust survivor. I for one want my children to know what happened. I want them to see what I saw, read what I read, know what I know. I want them to learn to respect all people of all nationalities and religions. I want them to know about the Holocaust.
What can we do today in order to prevent this past tragedy from occurring again? Treat all men as equals. We have dealt with similar issues before, such as the issue of slavery. Through the acts of William Wilberforce and many others, slavery was abolished, and finally we treat all men as equals. We need to keep it that way. Look to the example set for us by Corrie ten Boom. She was arrested for aiding the Jews. Why did she help them, knowing that doing so could kill her? Her sentiments are summed up in her father’s words: “You say we could lose our lives for this child. I would consider that the greatest honor that could come to my family.” (The Hiding Place, 99)


Ok, now to explain the whole 'sharing the same family name' bit. This is actually quite a story. My Aunt and Uncle went to the Holocaust Museum not too long ago. As they walked in the door they were greeted by a table offering 'passports' of young children and a few adults who managed to survive the Holocaust, and also a few of the ones that did not. My Aunt picked one up and glanced at it, and then did a double-take. The young man possessed the exact same last name as her father and my father! Waterman....he survived the Holocaust and came to America. I do not know if this is one of my ancestors, but I do know I have a small amount of Israeli blood running through my veins. Who knows? He might have been a great-uncle or something like that. But anyway, it makes an intriguing story.

Philosophy and Socrates...

Today during our enlightening Philosophy class, we were given a specific challenge concerning a famous quote from Socrates..."The unexamined life is not worth living."
Basically it means we cannot be a static nation, "contented" with our video games, MSN, cell phones and Barbie dolls. We are to ask "What is the meaning of life?", "Why am I here?", "What's the big idea?" and so on. We were made to search for something greater than our 64-inch plasma screened TVs and Ipods...but what exactly is that something?
So anyway, where do we find ourselves? Where do I find myself? Am I content with the fancy computers, designer clothes and high-tech cell phones? To be completely honest, I don't think I really am. But what is out there that will satisfy me, that will fill up that little hole in my heart where I know something belongs? Besides the obvious (or at least it should be!) answer of God and religion, there is the search for knowledge. The mind desires knowledge, requires it in order to grow. Socrates is stating that a person who lives life without seeking what lies beyond his own personal level of knowledge is pretty much leading a worthless life, a dead life. What can you do to avoid the life "not worth living"?