My Name Is Tommy
I live in hallowed tree. Well .... You might think it's an apartment but to
me reality is not so well defined. I grew up needing glasses. Things to me were
just blobs. I took on faith whatever anyone said they were seeing. I could see
blobs of color and light; the beautiful lights filled my eyes with sparkles and
sounds. Colors always made a sound to me, maybe my way of adapting to the
reality I could barely see. I eventually got glasses when the school provided
testing found me unable to read the big "E" on the eye chart. They
thought I was kidding. I was accused of lying just to get attention. My life
changed the day I got glasses. It was a good thing I think. So much more detail
in the soundings and reality I lived within. I could see things that I had never
seen before. Like the wires on the electric poles along the road. And leaves in
the trees not just blobs of color that broke into leaves to fall in autumn. I
was seven or eight years old then. It was incredible looking back that I
survived life that long not being able to see. I had to be within 30 feet of an
object to see it as clearly as you standing 300 feet away. I must have been a
sort of mystery to my folks. During my first phase of life, I was nearly blind
and certainly challenged doing everyday things that involved seeing at a
distance. I find it difficult to go there now. I also lost my ability to hear
the sounds of colors. A sacrifice I suppose. My point of view, so sacred, so
rich in metaphor and wonder, now asunder on the altar of consciousness. And I
held the knife, a simple pair of glasses. I would never be the same.
Finding a spot for my self in this enhanced view of reality would be fun. I
did well at school but was mostly bored. I loved interaction and was certainly
an extrovert. In seventh grade everyone discovered how smart I was. The class
was seated by IQ rating and the last 10 of 18 chairs were scrambled to prevent
any losers from happening. I had the first chair and the boy in number two spot
hated me for that. I was a year younger than everyone else in the class. IQ
tests are age sensitive and so he felt I had an unfair advantage. I didn't even
know that there was a battle going on let alone that I had somehow won. Three
years from then, I would fall off a cliff ledge and forget everything that ever
happened to me as a child.
I was still very capable of faith based reasoning and living. The thought of
living among people seemed disgusting and crude to me. I loved the idea of God
and wanted to spend the rest of my life exploring God. So I joined a semi
cloistered order to become a priest at ninth grade. I was greeted by my 'big
brother' the person who would help make the transition easier. His first words
to me were. "I thought you'd be some kind of athlete instead you're a
scrawny little kid". So I buried myself in books and made friends with some
other kids who also were considered less than desirable. We were younger than
the others and smarter too. A terrible combination. And we didn't like sports
too much either. The school had an indoor pool that I used most every day. I
loved to swim and dive. I even played football, basketball and baseball. But
getting hit by a ball in the face was not my idea of fun so I only played when I
had too.
6-12 of us used to go on five to seven mile hikes a lot. There were abandoned
quarries with stone ovens and kilns that we explored. There were stone tunnels
everywhere and exploring them was a favorite pass time. There was also a nearby
school for girls that one of the upper classman liked to visit. He would go
there for a few hours leaving us without supervision, free to explore the quarry
and anything else we found. Generally, we were not included in school social
interactions. We were allowed, even encouraged, to 'get lost'. We discovered a
great place, in the steeple of the church. The door was hidden and clearly no
one had been up there in a while. So we made it our secret hiding place. It was
the perfect place to view the fall colors on the trees and the morning mist and
silvery fog on the grassy fields.
Winter was so special. From the steeple you could see the snow covering
everything. The lovely silver thaw, ice covering everything glistening in the
sun. The quiet sound of falling snow while watching cars come on visitor
Sundays. Our parents lived to far away to visit so instead of having a picnic on
the grounds we had lunch with the priests and others whose parents couldn't
come. I learned to play ice hockey and enjoyed it far more than other sports.
Shortly after Christmas break everyone got cabin fever. Well, not everyone. We
still had our steeple but without heat it wasn't very comfortable. We did learn
to leave the door open which caused a warm breeze to exit through the steeple
openings. It also resulted in our being caught. We weren't punished badly as the
priest knew our torment by the others but they did add a lock to the door.
It was spring finally, with monthly visitor weekends and hikes to the
quarries. The blooming flowers and trees was beautiful beyond words. Spectacular
fountains of color and freshness. Soft and luscious life oozing out of every
pore of 'God'. I lost my innocence there. I did a lot of growing up during that
first year. I discovered things that I didn't know existed. It felt very much
the same as I did when I got glasses. It was a revelation of the obvious. And it
changed me.
In May a traditional school outing was planned. It would be the last one
before summer break and everyone wanted to make it the culmination of a first
year journey into priesthood. For some this meant exploring and finding a place
to contemplate the past year. To others it meant exploring and discovering. And
to some it presented an opportunity to harmlessly gain vengeance for a year of
torment. We were determined to hassle a group 'the' click' by tossing leaves and
debris down on them from our vantage point on an upper trail. There were three
of us and a whole lot of them. We would be in horrid trouble when we got back.
Unless we could somehow stay near a priest who wouldn't be our shield from their
torments. I guess we didn't think about the consequences. Drunk on our position
of power and strength over our enemies and tormentors. It felt right and fair.
No one got hurt until we found ourselves at the top of a steep hill. The upper
classmen below us had moved into an alcove. The rock formation is called horse
shoe canyon in Starved Rock National Park (IL). We had lost our advantage.
A very foolish idea was considered. There was a two foot ledge at the bottom
of the hill and we could stand on that and toss stuff into the alcove. The ledge
was 40 to 60 feet from the rocky floor of the canyon. So ... two of us began to
climb down the hill which was covered with last falls leaves. Instead of a
graceful descent we began to slide uncontrollably. He was able to hold onto the
tree at the bottom. The hill was also 40 to 60 feet and getting the tree at the
bottom became imperative. Unfortunately, I was only able to grab branches. Like
a log covered with leaves and twigs, I rolled off the ledge and began my fall
onto the rocks below. I was spinning around and could not deem to focus on the
ground below me. I had nearly two seconds to contemplate my life before hitting
the ground. I bounced upon impact to a height of nearly 12 feet. I am not sure
what I hit. The brain shut down rather quickly. Maybe to relax the body before
impact? When I hit the second time I felt warmth and pain in and around my body.
The nearest phone was at the park entrance more than a mile away. A student was
sent to call for an ambulance. I was on my feet and looking at my right arm
dangling by skin at the elbow. Both bones broken and protruding through the
skin. My left hand a jumble of bones fingers floating in the center of the hand.
Tendons and ligaments all loose. They applied a tourniquet to my right arm and
proceeded to give me the last rites. It was very profound. I could no longer
sustain consciousness and died. I was taken to a hospital and my parents were
called asking permission to operate on me. There wasn't a great chance that I
would live but if I did they felt as interns it would be a great experience for
them to see if they could repair my arms and hands instead of amputation. I am
not sure what my parents thought when they got that call. I am grateful the
interns worked on my arms and hands. I can type and play piano today because of
their efforts and kindness. They did not charge my parents for my ten to twelve
hour operation.
When I awoke I found a totally different reality than the one I had left. It was
built of the same basic stuff, atoms, molecules and such. But the forms and
structures were alien to me. To make matters even more interesting someone else
had been living in my body for more than 40 years. Ever since the fall. How
often does that happen? So here I am a 14 year old boy and a 40 billion year old
creature sharing the same 52 year old body. Okay, so maybe that seems a bit
weird. Imagine how I feel, I experience it :)
All kinds of philosophical questions arise. None more profound than "who
gets the bodies' soul?" It or me? Which according to It, doesn't exist. And
my knowledge of the soul is entirely faith based. I suppose I'll have to name It
something. It took care of the body while I slept and even taught it music and
painting. Forty years is a long time to sleep. And not be able to 'feel' life. I
would have thought the creature actually just a dream had it not been here all
comfortable when I awoke. And why did I awaken after forty years. Would I have
not been better off dreaming life? Well, that is moot cause now I'm here and
awake again. I will have to learn how to navigate in this new reality. And it
will be fun.