CATHEDRAL BLIND

From all you have said about him, I can only conclude your husband is an incorrigible man.  Fate had an evil sense of humor. Because a year after saying those words, I found myself on a train to see what "incorrigible" really was.

Jane and me had been friends for ten years now. A friend ten years is not an impressive feat to the average man, but to a blind man it is an eternity. A true definition of "friendship." Jane has some marriage problems. I never thought Jane had the blind man syndrome. She told me "Love is blind! Love guides you in directions that any person with their eyes open would never step forward in."  I tried to tell her that having a relationship is all about compromise. Life is meaningless without change. Remaining static or immobile to new ideas, thoughts, or changes forever plagues the individual. She said, "You know what? You hit it on the buzzer! He will not change!"

Riding a train makes a man think about things. Thinking about anything to disguise the cacophony around you. Outside the train was the sound of the rusty train wheels hitting the tracks clacking in a rhythmic motion. The environment around me was mixed with the children screaming, the mother’s scolding, and the men arguing over cards. Most could look out the window and see something that elevates them to another place. Like a painter that sees a sunset, or a director that envisions his next movie by observing the town go by. Incapable of sight and uninterested in sound, I emerged myself in thought.

It was the usual scenario, Jane had been in "true love" once before. Finding out the consequences that surrounds it, she exited. Suicide in the eyes of God is one of the greatest sins a man commits. Yet she was spared the wrath of God in her attempt, which concluded only in a temporary self-inflicted sickness. Consequently, her first "true love" came and went in the following aftermath. As in life, if one cannot obtain what one truly desires, one yearns for convenience. So Jane met John after her first "true love" and settled for this average provider. John was a comfortable mix of security and routine. He was also the type of man that was neither ambitious nor inspiring. Two years into this relationship, as with anything, it got stale. Yet this kind of stale, like on a loaf of bread, can be severed and thrown away in order to save the whole loaf.

I, myself, lived my whole life in prejudice. The ridicule on the streets of pedestrians asking me "Where’s your dog?"  The children mockingly asking which direction things were. Growing up surrounded in prejudice made this blind man see how the world really was. Prejudice is the fear of the unknown. If an individual can conquer one prejudice, it marks a change. Which causes the individual to reevaluate life upon realization. The person is not the same as before. They are wiser and stronger by casting their fear of the unknown aside. That one modification brings forth a chain reaction of changes.

I arrived at the station around the evening hour. I could hear a whole new collage of sounds. The sounds of lovers embracing after time apart, the peddlers selling periodicals, the whistle of the train screaming with their conductor screaming "All aboard!" Then I heard her voice. "Over here Robert! It’s me!" I stepped to her, and walked into a warm embrace. I could smell her perfume, the same as years before. "Promise me I won’t have to wait ten years to smell your perfume again," I said.  "No Robert! I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to see you!" she said. "Funny, your play on words Jane!" I remarked.

On the drive home we were chatting in rapid spurts, and constantly we were apologizing because we would both cut each other off. We talked about anything and everything. Slowly the origin of our rendezvous surfaced in the conversation. "Remember Robert! You cannot tell John about the real reason why you are here. You are here as my guest and nothing more. Do not tear John apart," Jane said, with an overly mother tone. " I plan to do the contrary Jane. Do not say I am going to tear him apart! I am going to make him overcome his fears. Fears on which he must overcome to put himself back together." I responded. The thirty-minute drive seemed mere minutes as our conversation blossomed. "Here is the plan, when we get to the house we are going to do the usual evening chatter and eat dinner. Later that evening, I am going to go upstairs to change into my robe. When I come back down I am going to pretend to fall asleep on the couch. Got it?" She said. "No problem Jane. All I need is a couple of hours with your better half!" I declared.

When we arrived at the house, I grabbed my suitcase and she directed me in the right direction. The senses of middle class utopia engulfed me. The sounds of birds chirping, lawn sprinklers turning, and the hint of fresh cut grass in the air were a welcome contrast. " I want you to meet Robert. Robert this is my Husband. I have told you all about him." Jane said in a diplomatic tone. I reached out and shook his hand with an unyielding grip. The firmness of a man’s hand reveals the backbone of a man. His grip lacked the firmness of confidence. The sweat on his palms revealed a nervousness of the anticipation of meeting me.

We walked inside and Jane gave me the blind person version of the tour. She held me by the arm and paraded me around the house talking to me like a dog. " To your left, Robert. That’s right. Now watch it, there’s a chair. That’s it. Sit down right here. This is the sofa," Jane said, in a mild tone. I sat down and took bearings on how the house was arranged. John asked me if I wanted a drink. "I’m a scotch man myself," I boasted. He made us three scotches as we began the usual cocktail chatter before dinner. I talked about my trip and he listened. He seemed not to add anything to the conversation. The only thing he did mention was an insulting question on which side of the train did I sit on. After our, anything but enthralling, conversation we sat down to dinner. I dove right in and left no prisoners. The foregoes of my visit seemed to invade dinner. No one talked as we ate. It was dinner without words, and the only conversations were between the clacking of silverware and the sips of the cups.

After dinner were more drinks, which throughout the course of the evening was our fourth. I already had begun to piece together his life. Alcohol is used frequently used as a suppressant. Reality comes crashing down on average Joe America and fills him with an unbearable horror. Could the definition of life mean only survival? Wake up, work, come home, sleep, and repeat. How many men led this life? I could only conclude that John’s life was so monotonous, so mundane- he had concealed his fate in alcohol. We begun to converse about his work and Jane went upstairs to put on something more comfortable. At last, I got my chance to talk to John alone.  Unfortunately, the conversation did not go into great detail as Jane promptly came back down.  "I may just sit here for a while between you two guys with my eyes closed. You wake me up now, you guys, if I fall asleep." Jane instructed.

Jane fell asleep and John was looking for something to watch on the television set. After scanning all the stations, he ultimately arrived back to the first one. "Imagine that," thinking to my myself, " Usually your first instinct is the right one." He was watching a program on Cathedrals. After a few minutes into the program, John asked me a question. "Something has occurred to me. Do you have any idea of what a cathedral even is? What they look like, that is? Do you follow me? If somebody says cathedral to you, do you have any notion of what they are talking about? Do you know the difference between that and a Baptist church, say?" I really did not have an educated knowledge of Cathedrals and asked him to describe it to me. After a seemly long pause, he had begun," To begin with, they’re very tall. They reach up. Up and Up. Toward the sky. They are so big, some of them, they have to have these supports. To help hold them up, so to speak. Sometimes the cathedrals have devils and such carved into the front. Sometimes lords and ladies. Do not ask me why this is.... I’m sorry. But it looks like that is the best I can do for you. I’m just no good at it." John rambled. I then asked him if he believed in God. Faith could maybe be the link between John and me. Finding a common ground on which we could relate was pivotal. If we could just share a few things in common, he might oversee his prejudice. Unfortunately John said," I guess I don’t believe in it. In anything. Sometimes it’s hard. You know what I’m saying?"

Then I knew the plan of attack. Maybe, I could unknowingly give John a taste of what a blind man feels. I acted on this instinct. " Hey listen to me. Will you do me a favor? I got an idea. Find us some heavy paper and a pen. We will do something. We will draw a cathedral together," I instructed. John got up and found the requested articles and sat down in front of the coffee table. I sat down on the carpet beside him and then we had begun. I placed my hand on top of his. The instructions were to draw a cathedral by indenting hard on the paper. We were going to feel it together based on the contour of the lines. Hesitantly, John began to sketch its exterior. Apprehension filled his mind and precipitated out his pen. Our hands timidly moved across the paper. As we started at the bottom slowly, it was a period of discovery for John.  After years of ridiculing something that was unknown to him, he had begun to have vision without sight.  He then rose quickly to the top and marched back down with a stern grip. The apprehension precipitated out, and John had found a confidence unknown to him till this point. While we were in this moment of joint discovery, Jane awoke. "What are you doing? Tell me, I want to know!  Robert, what are you doing?" Jane interrupted.  Ignoring her, I said, "Put some people in there now. What’s a cathedral without people?  Close your eyes now.  No Peeking!"  It was crucial that John close his eyes. John closed his eyes and we continued. "It’s all right!" John consoled to Jane. I still had my hand over John’s as he sketched without sight using only his intuition.   It became apparent that we in a different place now.  We were not in the room anymore. John and me were in the cathedral. It was his imagination that guided us as he drew on the paper. He begun to go into a trance letting his other senses take over. In frenzy, John sketched on that paper with zeal of an artist. He was a man no longer needing sight. John had found life without sight. A powerful ambition consumed John to continue on. "I think you got it. Take a look. What do you think? Well are you looking?" I asked.