The Curtain of Charity

Dearest Rachel –

For all that I talk about how you and I filled our gender roles in a slightly blurry way – where you had more ‘guy’ in you than the typical girl, and I had more ‘chick’ in me than most boys – when it came to our childhood reading habits, we were pretty conventional. You had your Heidi and Nancy Drew books, while I collected comic books (mostly those Spire ones that I’ve long since lost the physical copies of – thank heavens that the internet keeps copies of virtually everything) and read Tom Sawyer over and over as a kid, along with my volumes of trivia.

One of the scenes that sticks in my mind from Twain’s novel was where Our Hero steps forward to collect a prize from his Sunday School class. Thanks to a fair amount of wheeling and dealing with his peers throughout town, he had been gathering a collection of tickets that were meant as recognition of Bible verses memorized; enough assembled together would result in the bearer being awarded a brand new Bible. What Tom would do with such a prize is beyond me; he seemed to be the sort who had no more use for the book than his creator (who likewise seemed to question the boy’s pursuit of the award). But if the rest of his classmates were going to play Esau and disdain the fruits of their own labor by trading with him, he was certainly willing to play Jacob against them.

However, his supposed victory did not come without a price, because as part of the award ceremony, the schoolmaster requested that Tom demonstrate his thorough knowledge of the Bible he’d supposedly memorized, and begins asking him questions in front of the assembly. Even I might have trouble with the first one posed to him; I’m never sure if the first two disciples were Peter and Andrew, or James and John. Still, I can at least assure myself that I wouldn’t give Tom’s answer of “David and Goliath!”

And at this point, Twain decides that he’s not going to punish us, the readers, or Tom himself (despite the fact that he certainly deserves it – we can safely assume that, had this been something that actually happened, it would have gone on for an agonizingly long time for all concerned) with more of this cringe-inducing quizzing, and closes the entire chapter with “let us draw the curtain of charity across the rest of this scene.”

***

While it probably wouldn’t be considered as useful as so many others, such as flight (or better yet, teleportation), invincibility (or other forms of immortality), accelerated speed, advanced mental powers such as telekinesis or telepathy, or plain old garden variety superhuman strength, I always thought that the ability to skip over those far-too-frequent spans of ones life that were too embarrassing – or, more often, just too darn tedious – would be a useful power. I think about it many a morning, wishing I could just walk into the gym at one point, and the next thing I know, I’m walking out an hour to an hour an a half later, having not really noticed the passage of time or the expenditure of effort throughout it all.

Besides, all those other powers have their drawbacks, even without taking into account the need to use them responsibly (as Uncle Ben Parker put it). Flying might be an exhilarating experience at first, but the challenge is always in terms of slowing down and landing safely; sure, it might eventually become second nature, but there’s got to be a tough learning curve at first. Hyper-speed probably leaves one living in a bubble apart from the rest of the world, which seems to be constantly operating in slow motion; it’s quite literally the opposite of the “curtain of charity,” and it lasts for your entire life.

And then there are the various flavors of immortality. Those with regenerative powers have the worst of both worlds; being unable to actually die, but still having to undergo the process of death in all of its painful forms, as well as dealing with the unimaginable agony of experiencing your body knitting itself together from what would otherwise be mortal wounds. It would be difficult to know whether the wounds themselves or the reassembly process would be more painful, but either one seems less than desirable to have to constantly endure. I’ve always thought that death itself isn’t something to fear (especially since I’ll be able to reunite with you), but I can’t imagine a single way to go that’s particularly pleasant. To have to go through so many of them, and then experience the reversal of the process every time as you restore yourself to perfect health, is a terrifying proposition.

But even invulnerability has its drawbacks. After all, while you could interpose yourself between ordinary civilians and catastrophe, you can’t always save everybody, and that will weight on you, more and more as time goes by. Even if you could, those same civilians – and your peers and colleagues – will eventually fall to things you can’t prevent, such as disease and old age. Everyone you know and love will die, and you can’t join them. Moreover, even the earth itself, and the sun it orbits, aren’t eternal; what do you do when there’s nowhere left to stand on?

No, all I really would want would be a chance to let the tedious and embarrassing part of life flash by me, so I can get the benefits of having the work done, but not have to think about it (or even experience it) while it was happening. I understand that some people actually have this gift, but it’s called “dissociation,” and considered a mental illness. Probably for good reason, though. It’s possible that, if I had this ability, I’d find myself drifting through life like a zombie, completely inattentive to anything going on around me – or more to the point, more so than I already am.

Even now, while I do actually have to experience the tedium or embarrassment of certain hours, I have the ability to forget those once they’re and done with (unless I write down about my experiences and mental states during such moments). The trouble is, my mind isn’t the best editor, and doesn’t always know where best to cut my mental film. I’ve mentioned how, in excising so many day-after-workaday-days from my own memory, I’m left with too few moments of joy and closeness with you that were interspersed within those days, but which were left on the cutting room floor of my mind because they were this brief flash amidst whole reels of interminable footage. I will occasionally prick my foot as I wander through the hayloft of my mind, but far too often, these needles are lost in my mental barn.

So maybe this curtain of charity isn’t so charitable after all…

Anyway, with that thought passing through my mind (and thus recorded, so I don’t lose it), keep an eye on me for the rest of this day, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.