Red Plaid Shirt Page 26
Imagine perfect health, financial security, your mortgage paid off, a new car every second year. Imagine mowing the lawn on Sunday afternoon and enjoying it. Imagine raking leaves in the fall without having to contemplate the futility of daily life. Imagine your grandchildren sitting at your knee while you tell them the story of your life.
The faithful are seldom haunted by a pesky sense of impending doom. They imagine that their lives are unfolding as they were meant to. They imagine that they are free. They imagine finding their feet planted squarely on the road to heaven. The faithful are prepared to live happily ever after.
Imagine laughing in the face of the future.
Imagine belonging to the fine fierce tribe of the faithful.
VII. PRAYER
Pray for sunshine, pray for rain. Pray for peace. Pray for an end to the suffering of the unfortunate. Pray silently in a language simple enough for a child to understand. It is not necessary to get down on your knees with your eyes closed, your hands clasped. It is not necessary to hold your breath. Pray while you are cooking dinner, doing the dishes, washing the floor, holding your sleeping child in your arms. Pray with your heart, not just your mouth.
The faithful know how to pray to whatever gods they may worship. The faithful are praying all the time, every step of the way. Their prayers are not the sort that begin with the word Please. They do not bargain with their gods for personal favours. They do not make promises they can’t keep, to their gods or anyone else. They do not beg for money, power, easy answers, or a yellow Porsche. They do not beseech, petition, implore, solicit, entreat, adjure, or snivel. They do not throw themselves upon the unreliable mercy of the pantheon. They are not dramatic zealots. The faithful are dignified, stalwart, and patient. All things come to them who will but wait. They are committed to simply enduring in a perpetual state of grace. Their faith itself is a never-ending 27benediction. The faithful may or may not go to church on Sunday. Their faith is their business.
The prayers of the faithful are mostly wordless forms of devotion. Actions speak louder than language. The faithful are reverent, humble, blessed. They are always busy having a religious experience. The faithful are seldom alarmed or afraid. The faithful barely have time to notice that all their prayers have been answered.
VIII. ABUNDANCE
The faithful have more than enough of everything. They are never stingy. They believe in abundance and they know how to share the wealth. They give regularly to local and international charities and to most panhandlers. They give their old clothes and toys to the poor. The faithful are always generous. Of course they can afford to be. Of course there’s more where that came from.
Every evening at dinner the faithful cry, “More, more, let’s have some more!” The table is completely covered with heavy oval platters of meat and giant bowls of mashed potatoes and garden salad. They always have dessert. They prefer their children soft and plump. The faithful never bite off more than they can chew.
The days of the faithful are as full as their stomachs. They have energy to burn. They never whine about having too much to do. They like to be busy. They do not need time to think. Their bounty abounds. Their homes and their hearts are always full. Full of exuberance or solemnity, whichever current circumstances may require. The cups of the faithful frequently runneth over.
The arms of the faithful are always open. They have time for everyone. The faithful know how to share both the triumphs and the sorrows of others. They’ve always got the coffee on, blueberry muffins in the oven, a box of Kleenex handy just in case. The faithful know how to listen and they only offer advice when they’re asked.
The faithful know how to count their blessings, even if it takes all day. They have all the time in the world. They know when to thank their lucky stars. The faithful are privileged but they are not smug.
IX. WISDOM
The faithful are uncommonly wise. They are indefatigably glad to be alive. To the faithful everything matters. It does not occur to them that their whole lives may well end up having been nothing but a waste of time. The faithful are always paying attention. They know how to revel in the remarkable treasures of the everyday: a pink rose blooming below the window, a ham and cheese omelette steaming on the plate, a white cat washing her face in the sun, a new baby with eyes the colour of sand, a double rainbow in the western sky after a long hard rain. The faithful love rainbows and pots of gold. They know how to take pleasure wherever they can find it. The faithful are always exclaiming, “Look, look, look at that!” To the faithful nothing is mundane.
The faithful are everywhere. See if you can spot them: in the bank lineup on Friday afternoon, at McDonald’s having hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes with their children, in the park walking the dog at seven o’clock on a January morning, at the hardware store shopping for a socket wrench and a rake. The faithful may be right in your own backyard.
The faithful are thankful for small pleasures and small mercies.
The faithful are earnest.
The faithful are easily amused.
The faithful do or do not know how lucky they are.
The faithful frequently cry at parades.
The faithful are not afraid of the dark because they have seen the light.
Nothing is lost on the faithful. As far as they are concerned, wonders will never cease. The faithful are convinced that the best is yet to come.
X. HOPE
The hope of the faithful is a tonic. Their eyes are bright, their skin is clear, their hair is shiny, and their blood flows vigorously through all of their veins. Even in times of adversity, the faithful know how to take heart. At the tiniest tingle of possibility, the faithful are not afraid to get their hopes up. They believe in divine providence. It all depends on how you define divine. The faithful are not fools. Although the faithless would dispute this, the faithful live in the real world just as much as anyone. They know all about hoping against hope. But they are not troubled by paradox. They are immune to those fits of despair which can cripple and dumbfound.
Concerning matters both big and small, the faithful have always got hope. Their whole lives are forms of perpetual devotion to the promise which hope extends. The faithful breathe hope like air, drink it like water, eat it like popcorn. Once they start, they can’t stop.
Hope for world peace. Hope for a drop in the crime rate, shelter for the homeless, food for the hungry, rehabilitation for the deranged. Hope your son does well on his spelling test. Hope your team wins the World Series. Hope your mother does not have cancer. Hope the pork chops are not undercooked. Hope your best friend’s husband is not having an affair with his secretary. Hope you win the lottery. Hope the rain stops tomorrow. Hope this story has a happy ending.
The hope of the faithful is infinite, ever expanding to fill the space available. Faith begets hope. Hope begets faith. Faith and hope beget power.
The faithful lean steadily into the wind.
How Deep is the River? (1996)
Train A and Train B are travelling toward the same bridge from opposite directions. The bridge spans a wide deep river in which three young women drowned two years ago in the spring. Train A is 77 miles west of the bridge, travelling due east at a speed of 86 miles per hour. Train B is 62 miles east of the bridge, travelling due west at a speed of 74 miles per hour. Which train will reach the bridge first?
(Assume that Trains A and B are travelling on a double track so there is no danger of a head-on collision. Assume that both Trains A and B are mechanically sound, that both engineers are well trained, well rested, and have not been drinking. Assume the bridge is well constructed and meets all federal safety standards. Assume it is August.
Assume that if any of the passengers on Trains A and B are in danger, it has nothing to do with their presence here on the shining steel rails approaching the bridge. Assume that nothing bad will happen to any of them during the course of this trip.)
This is like those word problems in high school math, the ones where bits
and pieces of supposedly relevant information were given and then a mysterious question was posed.
An elephant’s eye is 10.36 feet above ground level. The angle of elevation from a mouse on the ground to the elephant’s eye is 46°. How far is the mouse from the elephant?
These knotty problems could only be solved by manipulating the information, making qualified assumptions, and then performing agile feats of arithmetical magic.
A bird is perched at the top of a tree. A cat sits on the ground below. The angle of depression from the bird to the cat is 58°. The cat is 39.67 feet from the base of the tree. How high is the tree?
These problems either caused the mind to go blank or else filled it with other questions, unasked, unanswerable, irrelevant but no less compelling for that. Are elephants really afraid of mice? How hungry is the cat?
Some of these problems were constructed around everyday situations to which high school students were supposed to be able to relate.
When Melanie is shopping, her heart beats about 100 times per minute and she takes 21 breaths per minutes. During a trip to the mall that lasts 130 minutes, how many times will Melanie’s heart beat? How many breaths will she take?
How fast will Melanie’s heart beat when she finally finds the perfect shirt which she has been dreaming of for the past three months? (Assume that Melanie has enough money to buy the shirt. Assume the shirt is blue.) How many breaths will Melanie hold while trying on the shirt, praying that it will look as good on her in real life as it does in her dreams?
The solutions to these problems were always in the back of the book. But no explanation was ever given as to how the answers were arrived at, why the questions had been asked in the first place, or what good the solutions could possibly do you once you had them.
Julie is walking west down Markham Street. She stops to wave to her friend, Karen, who is leaning out the window of her sixth-floor apartment. The vertical distance between Julie and Karen is 92 feet. The angle of elevation from Julie to Karen is 79°. How far is Julie from the apartment building?
(Assume that Julie and Karen are sixteen and seventeen years old respectively. Assume that Karen will not fall out the window. Assume that Julie is wearing her favourite red cowboy boots. Assume it is Saturday morning.) Will Karen invite Julie up for a visit? Will Julie then tell Karen a secret told to her the night before by their mutual friend, Melanie, a secret which Karen promised Melanie she would never ever tell? (Assume that Julie crossed her heart and hoped to die. Assume that Melanie was wearing her new blue shirt.)
Of these three girls, Julie, Karen, and Melanie, which one will get pregnant and drop out of school? Which one will become a veterinarian? Which one will eventually find herself on Train B, 62 miles east of the bridge, travelling due west at a speed of 74 miles per hour?
Train A is full of Friday afternoon travellers. They have all left behind their more or less comfortable homes in City X and are now well on their way to City Y. The population of City X is twenty times greater than the population of City Y. Some of the residents of City X think it is the centre of the universe. They are no longer completely convinced that the rest of the country still exists. If it does, they feel sorry for the people who have to live there. They are certain that nothing significant, interesting, or memorable ever happens in the backward barrens beyond the limits of City X. They have never been to City Y. They are not among the passengers aboard Train A as it now approaches the bridge.
Other residents of City X are constantly longing to move away but they are tied there by their jobs, their spouses, their spouses’ jobs, or their own inertia. City X suffers from all the social problems indigenous to a metropolis of its size. These problems are now called issues and they are running rampant through the streets of City X. Besides all that, the streets of City X are smelly in the August heat and the smog hovers, trapped by a low-lying bank of humidity currently stalled over the city. It is because of these and other more personal issues that some residents of City X are chronically discontent. It is from this portion of the population that most of the passengers on Train A have come. They are so glad to be escaping, if only for the weekend.
What is the ratio of people who love City X to those who don’t? (Assume that some people are ambivalent, moody, and unpredictable, loving the city one day while hating it the next. Assume that some people are just never satisfied.) What proportion of those who now love City X will eventually change their minds after one or more of those endemic social issues has impacted directly upon their own lives? What proportion of those who now hate City X will eventually muster enough gumption to leave?
The atmosphere aboard Train A is undeniably festive. Each of its six full cars fairly hums with anticipation and high holiday spirits. Strangers strike up animated conversations, share newspapers, and point out interesting features of the passing landscape: cows, barns, ducks on a pond, once a white-tailed deer bolting gracefully into the bush at the sound of the train. Now this is more like it: no high-rises, no traffic jams, no pollution, no neon, no issues. They are travelling through wilderness now, or at least what passes for wilderness in this overly civilized part of the country. Occasionally their idyll is interrupted by the appearance of the highway, four lanes of blacktop running parallel to the train tracks. The traffic is heavy in both directions, shiny cars and dirty trucks skimming along beside them like little windup toys. Soon enough the highway veers away again and disappears.
On the other side of the wilderness, City Y awaits. Hardly a city at all in comparison to City X, its downtown streets are clean and safe, frequently closed to traffic to allow for buskers’ festivals, street dances, and miscellaneous parades. (Assume that if City Y suffers from any of the social issues which plague City X, they are well hidden and so need not concern the carefree weekend visitor.) City Y rests on the shores of a large lake and much of its summer activity revolves around the water. There are sailing regattas, fish derbies, and free boat rides around the harbour. There is even a beach where the water is still clean enough to swim in. In the waterfront park there are craft fairs, dog shows, jugglers and mimes, hot dog stands, ice cream carts, and bands playing all day long, some with bagpipes, some without.
None of the passengers on Train A are currently thinking about the bridge, how far they are from it, how soon they will reach it, or about the river, how those poor young women drowned, how the current caught them up and carried them away. The passengers on Train A will simply cross that bridge when they come to it.
Right now the passengers on Train A are thinking about lunch. The food service porter has just begun to make his way down the aisle with his wheeled metal cart. All up and down the car, the passengers are pulling out their plastic trays from where they have been quietly nestled inside the padded arms between the seats. Although they are all well aware of the fact that train food is nothing to get excited about, still they smile expectantly at the approaching porter. He skillfully hands out food, drinks, plastic knives and forks, and little packets of condiments from side to side down the swaying aisle.
The porter offers three varieties of pre-packaged sandwiches: pressed turkey on brown, ham and cheese on a bagel, and egg salad on white. The beverages available include seven varieties of soda pop, three kinds of juice, three brands of beer, four types of hard liquor, and two kinds of bottled water.
Those who have not travelled by train in some time are surprised to discover that, although these sandwiches used to be a “complimentary light meal,” now they must be paid for. What remains complimentary are the non-alcoholic beverages and a small package of either salted peanuts or two chocolate chip cookies. How many passengers will now settle for a package of peanuts when they would have ham and cheese on a bagel if it were still free? (Assume that by the time the porter is two-thirds 2of the way down the car he will have run out of ham and cheese anyway. Assume that a free dry pre-packaged sandwich of any type is much more appetizing than one that costs $3.25. Assume that the porter is pretty well fed
up with listening to people complain about the prices.) If twenty-seven people in this car had ham and cheese on a bagel and seventeen people had pressed turkey on brown, how many people had egg salad on white? Why are there always six egg salad sandwiches left over?
After the basically unsatisfying distraction of lunch, the porter comes around again and collects the garbage in a big black plastic bag. The passengers drop their trays back into their hiding places. Some people order another beer. There is congestion at the very back of the car as people line up for the bathrooms. They stand in the tiny vestibule and look through the glass door at the tracks unrolling hypnotically beneath them. Some of those people staring at the tracks with their bladders full experience a distinct urge to jump. (Assume that everyone successfully suppresses this impulse.) What are the odds that, once any given passenger is finally inside the bathroom and comfortably installed upon the plastic toilet seat, Train A will then encounter a particularly bumpy stretch of track or a sharp curve to the right?
Once the passengers have settled themselves in their seats again, they can get back to contemplating the weekend ahead of them. While visiting City Y, the passengers of Train A will do many different things. Some of them will enjoy shopping for souvenir teeshirts, key chains, and coffee mugs. Others will spend all day in the park eating junk food, while still others will go sailing, waterskiing, fishing, or swimming. They will all enjoy themselves immensely.
(Assume that no one from City X will be mugged, raped, stabbed, hit by a car, bitten by a dog, or spit on by a panhandlerwhile visiting City Y. Assume that no one will be struck down by food poisoning, appendicitis, a heart attack, a cerebral aneurysm, or a severe allergic reaction to seafood. Assume that no one will choke to death on a fish bone. Assume that no one will drown, not in the lake, the bathtub, or a puddle of tears.)