The Old Forest – Peter Taylor

Peter Taylor - January 8, 1917 – November 2, 1994

I was a little worried about this story as I grew closer to reading it. In the introduction, Elkin mentions that this is a long story, and in past posts, I have complained (why...I don't know - just shut up and read!) about the length of some of these stories.

I was glad though that it was by Taylor because I really enjoyed his previous story in the BASS. You can find it here.

I am very fond of his style and I have found that reading him is quite easy.

As I started this story, I fell into an easy rhythm. I enjoyed the point of view that was chosen, and I like the digressions he took. There was a wonderful psychological edge to the story and that also kept me interested.

Taylor is another author that I would model myself after if I was an author.

Perhaps the Southern setting and the Southern atmosphere that Taylor does so well at bringing to life through his words is what attracts me to his stories.

The Old Forest

Looking back in my life, I think that some of the Forests I ran into caused huge shifts in the direction of my life, and that shift was a positive one.

There are several that I can point to.

-My decision to go to Norwich.

-My decision to live in New Jersey after Norwich...and not go to Russia with the Peace Corps.

-My decision to spend time in the restaurant world.

-My decision to leave NJ and move to Norfolk and work in Gourmet Foods manufacturing for two years.

-My decision to join the Peace Corps and live in RO for 2.5 years.

-And finally, to work in print media and remain today in print media when it seems as if the foundation of the institution is crumbling- or is it just morphing?

Now, were all of these Forests?

Well, some of the decisions that were made could almost seem to be viewed as being made in desperation.

I don’t think I “planned” on making any of them. I don’t recall a moment in my life where I saw one of those decisions up there on the list on my “someday I wish I can” list.

I think that I have just kind of rolled with the waves of life. I haven’t really strived to be anything – yet. I just exist where I am and I manage to make the best out of it.

But you know, as the Forest in this story provided comfort and a sort of camouflage to one of the characters, the Forest of life can be a very frightening place.

We can stumble into them...or run into them and find that we have become lost. The trees block out the sunlight – points of reference all begin to look the same. Strange noises find their way into our brain confusing our thoughts. We can run into a Forest with the intention of coming out the other side as someone new-or, we can run into the Forest and never come out.

Perhaps we find that we enjoy living in the Forest.

After writing the above sentences, I think that it is best that we venture into Forests from time to time – to push the limits of our lives, to recognize that we are still alive, human and we can either find excitement or that which frightens us. Either way, it can be good.

So, seeing that we are about ½ way through January, I think that will strive this year to work harder at getting into more Forests and discovering what they have to offer.

I can’t wait.

The Rags of Time – Barry Targan

Barry Targan – Nov. 30, 1932

How to approach discussing this story?

Well, we have all fallen under the spell of something or someone – sometime in our lives. The temptation and our choice to act on it is where things get interesting.

Drugs, alcohol, lies and sex...they are all out there waiting to make our lives more interesting. There are other forces out there but those are just a couple that happened to pop into my head See, I didn’t say “destroy”, rather I said “interesting” our lives because I feel that each one of those can be used in a way that can not cause damage to those who utilize them responsibly.

Even lies.

Now discussing this story, out of the list mentioned above, guess which one I will focus on?

Yup –SEX.

Time for more “real life” stories by yours truly.

I’ll only tell this particular story because it has some of the same ingredients as “The Rags of Time”. There is one major difference between what I did and what the main character of the story does.

Here we go -

So, as my little profile indicates up there on the right of your screen, I was a Peace Corps volunteer.

I entered the PC when I was 26 years old. I was sent to a small town of about 9,500 to teach high school English.

I lived in a dorm with the students of that school.

There were both male and female students in that dorm.

My English classes were made up of about 97% girls. GIRLS – 18 and under. Not women –GIRLS.

I was 26 years old. In a foreign country teaching mostly girls.

I will be honest and say that there was more than one opportunity for me to violate the trust between a teacher and a student.

It was also known, that there were teachers at that school who did violate that trust.

Here is a conversation I had with a female student one day after class in the hallway of our dorm.

-A mere 25 feet from the door to my room.

Like a good student, all of this was done in English which I think caused even more of a shock to me because I was flabbergasted that she was able to construct a conversation like we had, in for what was her, a foreign language.

She: Mr. _ , do you have a girlfriend?

Me: No _, I do not.

She: I don’t have a boyfriend...but I want one.

Me: uh-huh.

She: Would you want to be my boyfriend?

Me: -

She: I need a boyfriend.

Me:-

She: You could be my boyfriend now, just for a little while.

Me: -

She: Can we go to your room and talk about it?

She: I need a boyfriend.

Me: Look _, I can’t be your boyfriend, I’m your professor.

She: You could also be my boyfriend.

Me: - I need to go now, I’ll see you tomorrow.

And with that, I ducked around her and walked quickly to my room...

She was 18. I could have been “her boyfriend”.

I thought about that conversation many times after that encounter. I wondered what would have happened if we went back to my room to “talk” about it.

This particular student had attendance problems. She was older and I feel that she didn’t really feel the need to be at the school. She finished the year, and graduated. I passed her – barely.

I knew exactly what she was doing. The main character of the short that I just read faced the same situation but he “went back to the room” with his student.

There were times in the class when she happened to be there that I caught her and some other girls whispering and laughing as they looked in my general direction. I naturally assumed – as most guys would – that they were discussing my lack of a girlfriend and possibly my actions in that hallway – which in their eyes may have made me less of a “man”.

So, as I said, I thought about that conversation and encounter many times. I thought about where it would have taken me. If I crossed that line, would there be others?

It’s hard to say.

Stories like “The Rags of Time” provide the reader with an illustration of what could happen when we compromise ourselves.

The story isn’t that uncommon. It’s a story that becomes reality quite often in our world.

I chose what I thought to be the right path. All I am haunted by today is that conversation. I’m not haunted by what could have happened if we went further into that “conversation”.

My mind is clear and my integrity was tested – and I passed.

Overall, I really enjoyed this short. Here is a bit about the author.

“...one of these anthologies, included Targan's work along with fiction by such writers as John Updike, Saul Bellow, Tillie Olsen, and John Barth. In a 24 January 1992 letter, Targan wrote of finding himself in this distinguished company: "Naturally, I was elated.... But as I read through the collection, I came to a deeper awe not of them and not in self-appreciation, but of the act of such writing -- of writing with such honorableness, such authenticity.... I thought right then that to write -- to write with such integrity -- was one of the finest things a human being could do with a life. And so I decided just then that it would be one of the things I would do with mine. But only one of the things."”

“He is or has been a serious boat builder, sailor, gardener, potter, weaver, violinist, bookbinder, printer, papermaker, photographer, artist, skier, naturalist, bird-watcher, fisherman, editor, and teacher. Because he knows and has done so much, his writing covers these and other activities in informed, specific, realistic, and convincing ways, and his style is textured, detailed, and poetic.”

Dr. Cahn’s Visit – Richard Stern

Richard Stern – born Feb. 25, 1928

So, here we have another story about an old man. A confused old man.

-SURPRISE! (sarcasm)

At this point in my reading, I am beginning to wonder if Elkin has taken his whole “Guest Editorship” role as a joke. Did he have the ability to read and choose every story written in 1979 (for the 1980 edition) about an old man?

I know of Elkin and his personality, and the idea that he has made and included these stories as a joke is starting to become more and more plausible to me.

Either that, or why the hell, in 1979, were so many people writing about old men?

Yes, I stated in my previous post that I was attracted to stories of this sort...but c’mon! Enough is enough.

It’s really making reading difficult.

I look at the table of contents and I begin to wonder if the next story is going to be about a man. An old man, an elderly man, a poor elderly man – alone.

Richard Stern.

It’s certainly not his fault that his story was chosen for this volume. All blame falls on Elkin.

Richard Stern is a wonderful author.

Stern has associations with the masters of American Fiction and should be considered a master as well.

I dare not, in this little blog of mine, attempt to go into the accomplishments of the man. He produced and still produces today.

Often overlooked, unrecognized and under appreciated.

He knows this and he is more than comfortable with it. Good for him.

The Safe Deposit – Isaac Bashevis Singer

Isaac Bashevis Singer - November 21, 1902 – July 24, 1991

I think I said enough about Singer in my post about him which you can find here.

I noticed in that post that I spoke very little about the story. I did note that I didn’t like the story, but I failed to see it as a teaching tool and just dismissed it. Perhaps I am seeing some sort of evolution in this little experiment I am doing.

I enjoyed this story much more that the previous Singer story. Perhaps the rich descriptions of age and what it does to a human mind drew me into it. Of course, I’m more tuned into anything that has to do with the breakdown of the brain/mind because of what my father is going through and my efforts to keep out of my brain.

I feel though that I have always been attracted to stories of the elderly and especially those stories of elderly men struggling through life alone.

I see myself in this role someday (as I’ve written in other posts) and there really isn’t a need to go any further at this time into that whole stream of thought.

Recently, my family has seen another member of our family start the rapid decline into everything that surrounds old age.

2009 was not a good year for my step-father. I think we can say it was the year that marked his decline.

That year marked the year that his daily routine begin to take shape something like this.

Wake – eat - sleep in chair downstairs – eat – sleep in chair downstairs – eat – sleep in chair downstairs – go upstairs and sleep in bed.

He is 87 years old. He doesn’t really have a choice to live like this. He has declined into this state as a result of his age.

The problem is – is that this has made my mother’s life very difficult and sad.

We don’t think she was ready for such a quick onset – or really, we don’t think she would have ever been ready for something like this.

It hasn’t come to the point yet where we as a collective family unit have had to step in. That I think will come in the next few months.