Call me Ishmael

Ever read Moby-Dick?  It’s 19th century literature at its finest, full of symbolism and themes, and if you can get past the fact that it’s really incredibly boring, it’s actually a pretty good tale.  Though I would recommend In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex, by Nathaniel Philbrick if you want a sailing story involving a whale that’s a little more readable.

Anyway, if you have read Moby-Dick, probably one of the things you remember is the one-legged Captain Ahab constantly pacing back and forth, on lookout for the great white whale.  The sound of his wooden limb constantly knocking against the floor of the deck begins to drive the crew mad.

I know how they felt.

I hear Barry get up at all hours of the day and night and wish he would just SIT STILL for an hour and let himself heal.  The squeak of the crutches may not be as haunting as wood on wood echoing off of the rolling sea, but it still has the ability to shiver me timbers.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2010

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