Slow Homecoming (24 page)
Of course this mute, visual consolation was not enough; the adult's state of abjectness lasted until the incident had been explicitly, and not just once but time and time again, confessed to a third party (and even then it was only attenuated). That day stands out in the adult's memory as one of those exceptional days concerning which it can be said that the grass was green, the sun was shining, the rain falling, the clouds drifting, that dusk
fell and the night was silent, all these being marks of a different sort, assuredly the right sort, of human life, at times surmised to be eternal. Then the wooded hill at the foot of which the community is situated emerges in the distance. From all sides the trees rise skyward in an even sweep, and the gentle, regular incline, which seems to lead onward to infinity, gives the hill a feeling of fertility. The bright rocky spots between the trees glitter in the distance like crests of sea foam and lie on the chest like liberating compresses. For a moment the foreign river meanders through the foreground, its radiance reaching out beyond all possible frontiers. Only in sorrow, over an omission or a commission (and then my eyes become magnetic and all-encompassing), does my life expand to epic proportions.
fell and the night was silent, all these being marks of a different sort, assuredly the right sort, of human life, at times surmised to be eternal. Then the wooded hill at the foot of which the community is situated emerges in the distance. From all sides the trees rise skyward in an even sweep, and the gentle, regular incline, which seems to lead onward to infinity, gives the hill a feeling of fertility. The bright rocky spots between the trees glitter in the distance like crests of sea foam and lie on the chest like liberating compresses. For a moment the foreign river meanders through the foreground, its radiance reaching out beyond all possible frontiers. Only in sorrow, over an omission or a commission (and then my eyes become magnetic and all-encompassing), does my life expand to epic proportions.
T
he child was now more than three years old. Thus far, she had played alone almost exclusively, turned inward in quiet contentment, unlike the gloomily self-absorbed adult. But in the course of time (and specifically of the seasons) both had made themselves at home in the community on the wooded slope, and the adult was sick of visitors who with their falsely sympathetic or ironically citified remarks about the house and its location regularly demolished what little spirit the place had. One, who expressed himself only in forced quips, with which indeed he made his living, spoke of the clip-clop community, the reference being to the clatter of high-heeled shoes in the silence of the night.
he child was now more than three years old. Thus far, she had played alone almost exclusively, turned inward in quiet contentment, unlike the gloomily self-absorbed adult. But in the course of time (and specifically of the seasons) both had made themselves at home in the community on the wooded slope, and the adult was sick of visitors who with their falsely sympathetic or ironically citified remarks about the house and its location regularly demolished what little spirit the place had. One, who expressed himself only in forced quips, with which indeed he made his living, spoke of the clip-clop community, the reference being to the clatter of high-heeled shoes in the silence of the night.
But more and more often children from the neighboring
houses would come to visit, and through them a kind of neighborhood feeling arose. Being with others was something new to the child; it seemed to change her sensitiveness, in which the adult had so delighted, into a spoil-sport prissiness. The most trifling setback would throw her into such a rage that the other children would stand there gaping, and this in turn would transform her dismay into utter misery, so adding to the glee of the strangers around her, who would be as likely as not to ring the doorbell again the next day, possibly in the expectation of another such scene (but also perhaps because in the course of time all the rooms in the new houseâthe architect had surely intended nothing of the kindâhad merged into one partitionless children's room).
houses would come to visit, and through them a kind of neighborhood feeling arose. Being with others was something new to the child; it seemed to change her sensitiveness, in which the adult had so delighted, into a spoil-sport prissiness. The most trifling setback would throw her into such a rage that the other children would stand there gaping, and this in turn would transform her dismay into utter misery, so adding to the glee of the strangers around her, who would be as likely as not to ring the doorbell again the next day, possibly in the expectation of another such scene (but also perhaps because in the course of time all the rooms in the new houseâthe architect had surely intended nothing of the kindâhad merged into one partitionless children's room).
At the same time a reversal occurred. No longer was the adult “alone with the child.” Although her encounters with children of her age had almost always ended with a sense of injury and defeat, she soon began to look forward to these visits, not so much with pleasure as with excitement. For a while at least, she lost her ability to immerse herself, with splendid equanimity, in every trifle. The adult was no longer what she wanted; and often, when at last the voice of a neighbor child approached the house, the sound was welcome to the two of them (even if this particular child had been the cause of the past day's gloom).
Again he was of two minds. Would it be best to remain aloneâthe child playing, the adult working and to the best of his ability present, both prepared to speak and listen, yet “child” and “adult” as they had always been, without precocity on the one side or condescension on the otherâor were “children” not a race apart, in their element only among themselves, and there alone, regardless of all the injury and injustice, capable of moving
with self-awareness and making something of themselves? So weren't other children their true family and weren't adults entitled, at the most, to take care of them? Wasn't it plain in any case that even after the most unpleasant incident, the worst humiliation, the child would welcome another child as a bringer of good tidings?
with self-awareness and making something of themselves? So weren't other children their true family and weren't adults entitled, at the most, to take care of them? Wasn't it plain in any case that even after the most unpleasant incident, the worst humiliation, the child would welcome another child as a bringer of good tidings?
The dilemma was solved when the man at last hit on an idea, implying a proposal to others (and here he was struck by the fact that in the course of the years he of all people, he who tended to regard himself as a loner, unable and unwilling to live in society, had repeatedly, quite on his own initiative, promoted social groups, though small ones; but that on each occasion a profound illumination or “synthesis” had been necessary, without which, he held, there could be no true community).
The material foundation of the idea, on the strength of which a proposal to others became possible, was, as it had always been, a specific place, a location. At first, conversation with the neighbors had been confined almost exclusively to the new community and the children. The complaints about the distance from all public conveniences and the desire, not for a kindergarten or its modern equivalent, but rather for a modest little meeting place, accessible without a car and open at definite hoursâundoubtedly a necessity for those children who could not yet make a playground of the surrounding country and were consequently confined to their own house or the one next door. This desire became practicable (and its fulfillment a matter of course) when a locale was thought of: a large, hitherto unused room in the man's house, with a southern exposure and “free access” to a large “front yard.” (Backed up by the image of running children, these terms meant something, for once.) The availability of the locale even made enthusiasm possible; this
at last was the right thing to do. Dispelled were the suspicions usual among people who are strangers to one another. By early summer the room was suitably remodeled, and the following autumn a kind of club was opened informally with a few children.
at last was the right thing to do. Dispelled were the suspicions usual among people who are strangers to one another. By early summer the room was suitably remodeled, and the following autumn a kind of club was opened informally with a few children.
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In the ensuing period the adult spent a few half days as a kind of counselor, saw his own child with an unaccustomed number of others, and beganâno other word would be appropriateâto doubt her; not as an individual, but as a superior authority. His dominant feeling for her, even outweighing affection, had always been an unconditional, enthusiastic confidence. Without ever forming an opinion of “children” in general, he believed in this particular child. He was convinced that she embodied an important law, which he himself had either forgotten or never known. In the very first moment of her life, he had seen her as his personal teacher. What he had faith in was not any particular utterance “from the mouth of a babe,” but her mere existence as a human being who was what she was. The fact of her existence was to the adult the measure of truth, of a life as it should be. In this light, he was able to respect her dispassionately, and at times allow himself to utter certain words which he had hitherto rejected as pathos, shut his ears to at the movies, closed his eyes to as obsolete in old books, and which now turned out to be more real than anything else in the world. Who were the fools who had dared to claim that these “high-sounding” words were of purely “historical” interest, and that time had divested them of their meaning? Weren't they, in their blindness, or perhaps only lukewarmness and faintheartedness, confusing words with whole sentences? How did these modern people live? And with whom? And what had they forgotten,
once and for all, that they should listen only to pusillanimous yet loudmouthed and, on the whole, anything but open-minded language? Why did all the terms current in public speeches, in the daily papers and on television, but also in new books and personal relations, have the crushing, stinkingly banal, soul-murdering, godless, nerve-shattering, harebrained quality of
dogs'
names?
Why on all sides did one hear only the drone's language of a sheet-metal age? In any case, it was thanks to the child that the much despised great words became more intelligible to the adult with each passing day; these words didn't make for hubris but carried you to higher and higher levels; and anyone was welcome to them, the only prerequisites being “goodwill” and insight into “strict necessity.”
once and for all, that they should listen only to pusillanimous yet loudmouthed and, on the whole, anything but open-minded language? Why did all the terms current in public speeches, in the daily papers and on television, but also in new books and personal relations, have the crushing, stinkingly banal, soul-murdering, godless, nerve-shattering, harebrained quality of
dogs'
names?
Why on all sides did one hear only the drone's language of a sheet-metal age? In any case, it was thanks to the child that the much despised great words became more intelligible to the adult with each passing day; these words didn't make for hubris but carried you to higher and higher levels; and anyone was welcome to them, the only prerequisites being “goodwill” and insight into “strict necessity.”
Doubt came when he saw the child not alone or with random individuals but in her regular group. There, in the midst of a majority, she ceased to be a haven of peace, and was gradually, from day to day, metamorphosed into an earthworm, writhing with fearâmore wretched than all the rest. No longer was she prissy, no longer ill-tempered or even listless (for that the adult would at least have found an explanation); she was simply beside herself with misery. In the group, the child who by herself had been so wonderfully slow-moving, humorous, and intelligent was at best excitable and obtuse; most of the time she displayed blind panic, accompanied by an acute, groundless, immediately perceptible anguish. No sooner in the crowd, she struggles, like one forcibly held underwater, to escape, looks in her misery for a secluded room, but is usually unable to find so much as a quiet corner. Thus far, her story has presented an even flow; only now is its irrevocable, diabolical inevitability revealed. And the adult's doubt, like his previous
faith, pertains not so much to her special characteristics as to her whole existence: if she, as she is (that is,
her whole being),
is forced to become something different, she obviously ceases to be anything at all (but only suffers suffers suffers). But was she made for this apparently necessary tragedy of destruction? Here the adult is preoccupied with emotional, pointless questions that have probably been talked to death; yet they are made understandable by the despairing glances from the midst of the mob, which go straight to his heart and express something more urgent than mere doubt. Of course the parents connected with the group knew the reasons for the child's behavior (and hinted as much with kindly solicitude), but all he heard in their explanations was more dogs' names: seeing no cause, he was nevertheless convinced that he knew better.
faith, pertains not so much to her special characteristics as to her whole existence: if she, as she is (that is,
her whole being),
is forced to become something different, she obviously ceases to be anything at all (but only suffers suffers suffers). But was she made for this apparently necessary tragedy of destruction? Here the adult is preoccupied with emotional, pointless questions that have probably been talked to death; yet they are made understandable by the despairing glances from the midst of the mob, which go straight to his heart and express something more urgent than mere doubt. Of course the parents connected with the group knew the reasons for the child's behavior (and hinted as much with kindly solicitude), but all he heard in their explanations was more dogs' names: seeing no cause, he was nevertheless convinced that he knew better.
Besides, it was plain that some of the children, even the smallest, were not right for one another. There may have been no “wicked” ones, but certainly all were not “innocent” (at the most, there were some who had started at an early age to wash their hands in innocence). All knew what was wrong and did wrong, not only in passion but also with premeditation, yet even then without
consciousness
of wrongdoingâwith the result that their actions were often more sinister than those of the most sordid scoundrels, and just as revolting. It couldn't be denied that among the childrenâregardless of sexâthere were some who from the start were quite at their ease playing the executioner in word and deed, with the adults looking on; they performed their act of destruction with cool expertness and when it was done walked calmly away as from an official function. And it was equally unquestionable that none of the children liked being scolded, made fun of, or beatenâin other words, victimized.
consciousness
of wrongdoingâwith the result that their actions were often more sinister than those of the most sordid scoundrels, and just as revolting. It couldn't be denied that among the childrenâregardless of sexâthere were some who from the start were quite at their ease playing the executioner in word and deed, with the adults looking on; they performed their act of destruction with cool expertness and when it was done walked calmly away as from an official function. And it was equally unquestionable that none of the children liked being scolded, made fun of, or beatenâin other words, victimized.
It was then the prevailing opinion that adults should not interfere in children's squabbles. Nevertheless, it was hard on the adult, seeing his child getting the short end of it day after day. For she alone never defended herself; even when punched in the face, her only response was to flail about in the void; and the sounds that came out of her mouth were not battle cries but helpless whimperings. When insulted or accused, she never replied in kind and never ran away, but stood spellbound on the spot, physically bent beneath the hostile harangue, which in the end boiled down to a repetition of one especially wounding word or phrase. In her rebuttal she did no more than tonelessly deny everything, thus by her voice and posture identifying herself as the accused. Impossible, at the sight of this pale, trembling thing, to refrain from stepping in. And so, as often as not, the adult stepped in, took sidesâand found fault with his sniveling, solipsistic, asocial child.
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But little by little, as time went on, the children merged into a free, easygoing, and even amiable little band. Or perhaps the adult had only learned to look at them with new eyes. One spring day he climbed a hill with them and, observing himself, saw perfect joy, simply because he was moving among so many different children. His enthusiasm gave him for the first time a voice to which they listened. It was as though he had leapt into their midst; here he no longer saw “ruffians” and “victims,” as he had when looking at them from outside. No doubt about it. It was only when he began to take pleasure in their company that his forlorn standing-around and frantic running-around gave way to a natural buoyancy and ultimately to a proud, poised, and no longer childlike participation in their common adventure. A lasting image
must as a rule be grounded, as it were, in the feel of a certain terrain, its upward or downward slope, roughness or smoothness. In this case we have a steep slope, which all the children are climbing vigorously; though they are strung out over quite a distance and they are constantly changing places, each one knows as a rule where the others are, and none will get lost. Never before has the adult been conscious of a gentler, happier power over others.
must as a rule be grounded, as it were, in the feel of a certain terrain, its upward or downward slope, roughness or smoothness. In this case we have a steep slope, which all the children are climbing vigorously; though they are strung out over quite a distance and they are constantly changing places, each one knows as a rule where the others are, and none will get lost. Never before has the adult been conscious of a gentler, happier power over others.
His newly won lightheartedness rubbed off on his own child; once more she was able to be what-she-was; among others her movements were distinctly more spontaneous and self-assured than in her solitary days. The adult realized that all he had to do was “leave her (as well as the others) be” but that the ideal ordering energy, the drive that held them all together, would operate only if he remained for her (and the others too) the “ever-present one”âwith whom they could journey safely as in the hold of a ship of peace. True, he was not always equal to this twofold power. That would have been high art. But little by little he assimilated the idea of the good teacher.
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Just then, however, just as he was taking comfort, he was forced to recognize that the child really was different from most of those in the group. She had ceased to be a loner, but she still got in the way, though not very noticeably, and when playing games showed the excess of zeal and slight muddlement that are sometimes found in obese children. But what particularly sets her apart from the other children is her manner of speaking (though it is quite free from specifically grownup locutions); or perhaps it is only that she spoke more deliberately, choosing her words with greater care: in any case, this habit
of speech often made her lag behind or made what she was saying go unheard. True, the glance she casts at the adult from out of the turmoil is no longer a forlorn, imploring stare; it twinkles with good-natured irony. She is content to be with these peopleâbut they are not her people. And here it passes through the adult's mind: Your people exist. They are somewhere else. A different people with a different history. We are not the only ones. At this very moment, we are moving through time with this other people. You will never be alone. And at the same time the adult once again caught sight of the drama to come and actually looked forward to it. For though he saw many parents who armed their children for the struggle, and though he understood this perfectly, he felt that the right way was to do nothing of the kind.
of speech often made her lag behind or made what she was saying go unheard. True, the glance she casts at the adult from out of the turmoil is no longer a forlorn, imploring stare; it twinkles with good-natured irony. She is content to be with these peopleâbut they are not her people. And here it passes through the adult's mind: Your people exist. They are somewhere else. A different people with a different history. We are not the only ones. At this very moment, we are moving through time with this other people. You will never be alone. And at the same time the adult once again caught sight of the drama to come and actually looked forward to it. For though he saw many parents who armed their children for the struggle, and though he understood this perfectly, he felt that the right way was to do nothing of the kind.
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