I knew a man once who was the proud owner of a very large library which held many classics, as well as works of science and renowned biographical volumes on history’s most well-known personalities and graceful works of elegant poetry. He had at least several hundred books on history, from the most recent events and stretching back into the mist of man’s earliest recordings as well as a complete work on all known religions of the world. He was versed in physics, astronomy, astrobiology, geography, biology, quantum theories, string theory, the art of warfare and knew enough about medical science to keep pace with current advances. He could also speak five languages fluently, understand another dozen and was acquainted with various dialects from his global travels. A highly intelligent and gifted man you might say but he felt otherwise.
One late afternoon he had invited me to have a glass of gin on the rocks seeing as I had just stopped by to give him the latest copy of Foreign Policy Review and myself being a man of letters and an avid reader, did not hesitate to accept his gracious invitation. And so we found ourselves sitting outside under the shade of wooden canopy graced with the intertwined stems of red and white roses whose bloom brought color to the wooden luster and whose fragrance reminded me of my Grandmother’s home so many years past.
“Edward”, he began, “I have lived my life to the full, loved until my passions were subdued by time, ate my fill of foods and delicacies that tasted as though made by the heavens chief cooks themselves! I have slept in the finest of beds and shared my body with the bare rocks and sands of the Sahara. I have had to learn to survive in places where no man had the right to be found and stood in the palaces of kings and the sheds of paupers, and even then I felt as though I had learned but little in this life.”
He paused for a while as we sipped our gin and ice and watched as a few Bees flew in and out from among the roses that gave us shelter from the late afternoon sun. The air was somewhat stifling but not unpleasant for a light breeze had sprung up to quietly urge the coastal humidity to go back from whence it had come. There were only a few scattered clouds to be seen as they lazily drifted by, not caring for the concerns of men nor for their repentant hearts. He continued;
“I have conquered no less than a dozen of the world’s mightiest peaks, although in humility I should daresay they let me scale their mighty flanks without hindrance. Swollen rivers raging forth from the proud foothills of the Himalayas to the mighty Amazon and from the ancient but still blood feuding lands of the Eastern Deserts, I have walked, ridden, flown and paddled my way while the strength of youth was still strong within these arms, but today as you can see, mortality has subdued the pride of flesh and no amount of whatever I possess would ever be enough to restore me to my former glory.”
His words settled into my mind as though the weight of a large boulder had descended upon my shoulders for I knew only a very little of his past until now, but I had been deeply impressed by the objects to be found within his home. Especially the library.
He said. “Yes, this library bespeaks volumes of knowledge, but knowledge without wisdom is like a fool in the desert without provisions and clothing, trusting only to blind luck and that I find has been my life.” I looked at him in astonishment and asked; “Why would you say that seeing as you have lived a great and adventurous life? For if I had been in your shoes, I highly doubt that I would have possessed the courage to do what you have done!”
He looked at me and chuckled, saying, “It doesn’t take much courage when you have a half dozen men chasing you through the back streets of Calcutta! You just need to be faster!” We both laughed for it did sound amusing although I’m quite sure that as it was taking place, it most certainly would not have been humorous!
“My employer at the time had instructed me to meet a certain individual at a Hindu temple to receive from him some papers of importance, something that had to do with the atomic program, but he failed to produce them seeing as that I found him slouched in a corner with his throat slit. Looking around, I saw no one so I began to rifle his pockets and that’s when two men stepped out from behind a nearby tree with their eyes firmly fixed on me!” I waited, eagerly anticipating the next few sentences, then he continued, saying; “I stood quickly to face them knowing that these two would not be a problem, but that’s when I saw that several other men were approaching from two more directions and that’s when I decided to take the better course of action and I ran!”
“Well,” I asked: “How did you escape from them?” He looked out at the hills far away and a light smile was to be seen on his lips and his eyes seemed to change color slightly as though he was once again in the streets of Calcutta. Slightly leaning forward he continued; “My preferred method to unwind was to engage in sports activities such as walking and swimming and sprinting over a one-mile stretch and I used that to my advantage. I had been in India for several weeks and I was used to the climate and so I took off and right into the twisting and narrow streets, weaving in and among the dizzying array of people and colors, it being about the tenth hour and the street vendors were about displaying their wares. I threw a look over my shoulders and saw that they were hot on my trail and a few more had joined them, they were like hounds on a scent! But you know, poverty has always been India’s curse and so I used that to my advantage. Slowing a bit, I reached into my trousers and pulled out a roll of bills and then once again picking up the pace, I began to toss the bills into the air. The desired effect was immediate! The people scrambled after the money, blocking my pursuers and causing them to lose sight of me, therefore my escape was successful and I lived to tell the tale”!
I liked the story and so I told him and he laughed for a moment. Then he leaned back in his garden chair and said that he was weary and I should come back in a few days and perhaps he would have another story to tell. And so I departed and hopefully will live also to tell another tale!
Edward L Ordway Jr
Warner, New Hampshire
