DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fanomena, March 1948

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Fanomena, March 1948

Page 23

[[?]] then she became blind, and wrote me that now she needed me in her darkness. I tried to [[?]] what life would mean to her, never seeing the beauty of the world she loved so much, and her lonely roses. I could not sympathise with her, because I could see. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I could not understand if I were blind also. So I had a letter written to her about a hunting accident and started to wear this bandage over my eyes. I had it specially constructed so I could not see anything and then I learned to live the life of a blind person. Of course it was hard, but all the time I kept telling myself that it was just as hard for Mother, and that it was the only way I could really understand what she was going through. then I went to New Jersey and bought the dog. I had trouble there; they love their dogs there and they thought that if the dog ever found out that I could see, that it would kill her. I finally convinced them that i was in deadly earnest about it, and that I was going to keep making Freda believe I was dependent on her, and she is very happy now taking care of me. And the interesting part is that I have played the game so completely and so honestly that everyone I have met really things I am blind. I act like a blind man; in fact I have been a blind man for over six months.
"When I first started it was hard. When the moon was full I tried to tell myself that it would not harm anyone to slip off the bandage and see the world mellowed by the golden moonbeams but it would not be sporting. Mother could not do it, and so I did not yield to the temptation. And I have been happy. I know Mother is happy even though she must be sad about my fancied trouble. But it makes a bond of sympathy and understanding between us. And Freda is happy; of course she growls at Mother, but perhaps she is jealous. Peculiar that she is not jealous of you."
"No. She likes me," answered the young woman. "Animals and little children always have liked me."
"And I am neither," laughed the man.
"I am not so sure of that," was the somber reply. "It is a very unusual story you have told me; a story that I have never heard before; a story that I thought I never would hear of. But it was kind of you to tell me. I think I understand. And thanks for your confidence. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Nothing, except to help Mother and Freda to understand each other. Nothing must happen to hurt either of them, and these police dogs are difficult at times. I do not want Freda to keep on growling at Mother. She might hurt her some day, and I do not see why she feels that way. She never has before unless she thought the person was trying to hurt me."
A week passed. John wright sent for a very heavy chain. When he was not holding the dog he used the chain. There was no increase in the animal's reactions to the mother, but there was a definite increase in the man's fear that something would happen. The dog ceased to growl but the hair always raised on her back when the woman came near her son or even spoke to him. The man could not understand it and simply hoped that time and familiarity would aid in a better understanding on the part of Freda. With Veronica there was a deep, warm friendship; when she was with the man the dog seemed very happy and contented.
Summer came rapidly on the heels of a tardy spring. One morning John Wright sought a secluded spot he had located among the dense rose bushes, tied the dog to a marble shaft surmounted by an ancient bust of Satyr and lay down in the warm sunshine to sleep and perhaps dream of colors, and flowers and radiant sunsets. Freda curled near him, her head cuddled against an arm.  The two were but a few feet from the edge of the cliff and in complete concealment. On the other side of the roses was a marble bench, and to this bench came Mrs. Wright and Veronica. The man knew they were coming before he heard their footsteps or their voices. He could feel the dog stiffen beside him, the hair bristling back of the collar. He kept the dog quiet by patting him and then he listened, not because he wanted to but because he couldn't help it.
"I simply have to leave you, Mrs. Wright," said the girl. I wish I could stay but it is not possible under the circumstances. There is nothing else to do."
"I wish you would be perfectly frank with  me," begged the older woman, "and tell me just what is worrying you. Ever since my son came here I have noticed a definite nervousness and I have tried to find a reason for it. Now he is a rather fine man,
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[[?]] then she became blind, and wrote me that now she needed me in her darkness. I tried to [[?]] what life would mean to her, never seeing the beauty of the world she loved so much, and her lonely roses. I could not sympathise with her, because I could see. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I could not understand if I were blind also. So I had a letter written to her about a hunting accident and started to wear this bandage over my eyes. I had it specially constructed so I could not see anything and then I learned to live the life of a blind person. Of course it was hard, but all the time I kept telling myself that it was just as hard for Mother, and that it was the only way I could really understand what she was going through. then I went to New Jersey and bought the dog. I had trouble there; they love their dogs there and they thought that if the dog ever found out that I could see, that it would kill her. I finally convinced them that i was in deadly earnest about it, and that I was going to keep making Freda believe I was dependent on her, and she is very happy now taking care of me. And the interesting part is that I have played the game so completely and so honestly that everyone I have met really things I am blind. I act like a blind man; in fact I have been a blind man for over six months. "When I first started it was hard. When the moon was full I tried to tell myself that it would not harm anyone to slip off the bandage and see the world mellowed by the golden moonbeams but it would not be sporting. Mother could not do it, and so I did not yield to the temptation. And I have been happy. I know Mother is happy even though she must be sad about my fancied trouble. But it makes a bond of sympathy and understanding between us. And Freda is happy; of course she growls at Mother, but perhaps she is jealous. Peculiar that she is not jealous of you." "No. She likes me," answered the young woman. "Animals and little children always have liked me." "And I am neither," laughed the man. "I am not so sure of that," was the somber reply. "It is a very unusual story you have told me; a story that I have never heard before; a story that I thought I never would hear of. But it was kind of you to tell me. I think I understand. And thanks for your confidence. Is there anything I can do for you?" "Nothing, except to help Mother and Freda to understand each other. Nothing must happen to hurt either of them, and these police dogs are difficult at times. I do not want Freda to keep on growling at Mother. She might hurt her some day, and I do not see why she feels that way. She never has before unless she thought the person was trying to hurt me." A week passed. John wright sent for a very heavy chain. When he was not holding the dog he used the chain. There was no increase in the animal's reactions to the mother, but there was a definite increase in the man's fear that something would happen. The dog ceased to growl but the hair always raised on her back when the woman came near her son or even spoke to him. The man could not understand it and simply hoped that time and familiarity would aid in a better understanding on the part of Freda. With Veronica there was a deep, warm friendship; when she was with the man the dog seemed very happy and contented. Summer came rapidly on the heels of a tardy spring. One morning John Wright sought a secluded spot he had located among the dense rose bushes, tied the dog to a marble shaft surmounted by an ancient bust of Satyr and lay down in the warm sunshine to sleep and perhaps dream of colors, and flowers and radiant sunsets. Freda curled near him, her head cuddled against an arm. The two were but a few feet from the edge of the cliff and in complete concealment. On the other side of the roses was a marble bench, and to this bench came Mrs. Wright and Veronica. The man knew they were coming before he heard their footsteps or their voices. He could feel the dog stiffen beside him, the hair bristling back of the collar. He kept the dog quiet by patting him and then he listened, not because he wanted to but because he couldn't help it. "I simply have to leave you, Mrs. Wright," said the girl. I wish I could stay but it is not possible under the circumstances. There is nothing else to do." "I wish you would be perfectly frank with me," begged the older woman, "and tell me just what is worrying you. Ever since my son came here I have noticed a definite nervousness and I have tried to find a reason for it. Now he is a rather fine man, 23