you want to call that freedom, he once told them.
In the morning he ran toward the dawn and in the evening toward the sunset, and they did not know what to think of that. All they had was the minimum security of themselves, while he had other purposes. Call it rehabilitation. He had only six months left and a great body. They were still spitting on the sidewalks when the guards were not looking and at best could do this without moving their chins.
Then of course he did it and was only two laps gone when the whistles blew. Now they were the ones who breathed deep and tried to blow him over the mountain without moving their chins.
The first ten miles are easy, he told them later. Then you donât have any skin and your whole body is an ear and the cold wind screams pain and the dust screams pain. Youâre raw liver to the dogs and anywhere is the wrong turn.
They asked him if he thought of that before he ran and he said, Yes.
The warden would not let him run after that and he started spitting with the rest of them. He was quick even at this and filled them all with resolve and goodwill. There was no way he could have known how much they needed him.
THE GRIN REAPER
When others chuckled, he sneered. If someone laughed at a joke, he stared at them as if theyâd passed gas in an elevator. If there were a smile anywhere in a room, heâd go after it with a scythe of bitterness, a sharp haughty look that screamed, Stupid! To say he didnât have a sense of humor was like saying a snake didnât have long legs. When he left a room, you felt that kind of peace that comes when you stop beating yourself on the head with a hammer.
Talk about a wet blanket!
This guy doesnât have an ounce of joy in him!
How can anybody be such a total downer?
How can anyone be so one-dimensional?
No one could explain him, but it was easy to give him a name.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
The way they remembered the story, it went like this: Many years ago one farmer stood in the way of everybody out there getting electricity. Before electricity could come, this farmer needed to cut down his tall evergreen trees where the power lines could go. He refused to cut down his evergreen trees, so it was a stand-off between him and his trees and everybody else.
The boys knew this farmer was a bad man. What kind of person would keep everybody from getting electricity just for his stupid old evergreen trees?
Finally, all the neighbors went over to this farmerâs place with saws in their hands.
If you want to shoot us to save your trees, then shoot us all, said one of the neighbors. Life isnât worth living without electricity.
Thatâs the day the boys learned that this farmer wasnât all bad. He let his neighbors cut down his evergreen trees so the power lines could go up.
Be careful what you wish for, said the farmer who didnât have any evergreen trees anymore. The boys were there when he said those words, and they did wonder if he was still as bad as they once thought he was.
It wasnât long before the power lines went up and everybody had their farms wired for the big day when electricity would come like an angel from above and give them all light.
A big switch was going to be thrown somewhere out there in the darkness, and, just like that, all the new and unused light bulbs would come to life. The letter said that it would happen at five oâclock one night. Have all the switches turned off, the letter warned, and then turn them on one at a time so that the wires get used to all that electric power coming through them.
The night of the big switch, the boys sat around the kitchentable with the grown-ups. Then they saw it happen: a light at a neighborâs house where there had never been a light before. Then lights started popping up all over the place. The horizon looked as if it was covered with fireflies.
The oldest boy got to flick the switch in the kitchen. The fluorescent light above
In the morning he ran toward the dawn and in the evening toward the sunset, and they did not know what to think of that. All they had was the minimum security of themselves, while he had other purposes. Call it rehabilitation. He had only six months left and a great body. They were still spitting on the sidewalks when the guards were not looking and at best could do this without moving their chins.
Then of course he did it and was only two laps gone when the whistles blew. Now they were the ones who breathed deep and tried to blow him over the mountain without moving their chins.
The first ten miles are easy, he told them later. Then you donât have any skin and your whole body is an ear and the cold wind screams pain and the dust screams pain. Youâre raw liver to the dogs and anywhere is the wrong turn.
They asked him if he thought of that before he ran and he said, Yes.
The warden would not let him run after that and he started spitting with the rest of them. He was quick even at this and filled them all with resolve and goodwill. There was no way he could have known how much they needed him.
THE GRIN REAPER
When others chuckled, he sneered. If someone laughed at a joke, he stared at them as if theyâd passed gas in an elevator. If there were a smile anywhere in a room, heâd go after it with a scythe of bitterness, a sharp haughty look that screamed, Stupid! To say he didnât have a sense of humor was like saying a snake didnât have long legs. When he left a room, you felt that kind of peace that comes when you stop beating yourself on the head with a hammer.
Talk about a wet blanket!
This guy doesnât have an ounce of joy in him!
How can anybody be such a total downer?
How can anyone be so one-dimensional?
No one could explain him, but it was easy to give him a name.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
The way they remembered the story, it went like this: Many years ago one farmer stood in the way of everybody out there getting electricity. Before electricity could come, this farmer needed to cut down his tall evergreen trees where the power lines could go. He refused to cut down his evergreen trees, so it was a stand-off between him and his trees and everybody else.
The boys knew this farmer was a bad man. What kind of person would keep everybody from getting electricity just for his stupid old evergreen trees?
Finally, all the neighbors went over to this farmerâs place with saws in their hands.
If you want to shoot us to save your trees, then shoot us all, said one of the neighbors. Life isnât worth living without electricity.
Thatâs the day the boys learned that this farmer wasnât all bad. He let his neighbors cut down his evergreen trees so the power lines could go up.
Be careful what you wish for, said the farmer who didnât have any evergreen trees anymore. The boys were there when he said those words, and they did wonder if he was still as bad as they once thought he was.
It wasnât long before the power lines went up and everybody had their farms wired for the big day when electricity would come like an angel from above and give them all light.
A big switch was going to be thrown somewhere out there in the darkness, and, just like that, all the new and unused light bulbs would come to life. The letter said that it would happen at five oâclock one night. Have all the switches turned off, the letter warned, and then turn them on one at a time so that the wires get used to all that electric power coming through them.
The night of the big switch, the boys sat around the kitchentable with the grown-ups. Then they saw it happen: a light at a neighborâs house where there had never been a light before. Then lights started popping up all over the place. The horizon looked as if it was covered with fireflies.
The oldest boy got to flick the switch in the kitchen. The fluorescent light above
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