Tuesday Voice

Oliver Sacks

Thoughts upon hearing that Oliver Sacks will soon depart

By Bob Boldt

It was a dark and stormy night when I ventured out into one of the biggest blizzards of the young year 2007. My destination was the Lensic Theater, where one of their landmark discussions was being held by the Lannan Foundation. The night’s guest was Lawrence Weschler, who was hosted by Oliver Sacks.
    Due to the inclement weather, I was able to get a seat without difficulty. What followed was two hours of some of the most witty, intelligent talk I have ever heard. [Audio podcast January 31, 2007]
    Dr. Sacks played excellent second fiddle, asking probing question and providing often surprising responses and rejoinders. One thing he said that stood out for me was that recovered amnesiacs never regain their ability to understand or employ metaphor. This statement hit me like a ton of neurophysiology books. For me, the essence of being fully human is dependent on our metaphorical abilities. It might even be said that without metaphor there would be no art, no literature, and no science – only engineers, politicians, and bureaucrats. In subsequent research, I have been unable to substantiate this statement. It will remain just another one of those dangling fragments in my brain full of just such fragments.
    I tell this long aside only by way of explaining how important it is to breathe the same air with genius from time to time. I cannot tell you exactly why. People still fill large live concerts and plays, and throng to speeches by noted persons, when they could more comfortably accomplish the same experience electronically. Perhaps there is some special transfer of essence that electronics will never accomplish.

The focus of my life has become quite occupied lately with thoughts of death. Of course, at 77 years a certain awareness of my personal end is not unusual. Nevertheless, while the Eternal Footman has not yet snickered at me, he has at least pulled my coat.

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker
And in short, I was afraid.
                –T.S. Eliot,
                “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock”

    One of my dearest friends is dying. Tony Barnicle, a man who, in addition to being one of the most moral and compassionate beings on the planet, has also led an amazing, adventurist life.
    He admitted to me that in spite of his existential dread in the dark of night, he is actually welcoming Death. His attitude is one of fulfillment and acceptance, joy and accomplishment. Like Oliver Sacks, he can emphatically say,

I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one to gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers. Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.
      –From “My Own Life: Oliver Sacks on Learning He
      Has Terminal Cancer,” NY Times, Feb. 19, 2015

   

Oliver Sacks, 1961

   

Bob Boldt, 1965

Speaking of metaphor. Didn’t St. Paul write that we shall arise on the day of judgment clothed in our spirit bodies? Well, will we get to choose our spirit bodies or will they be the torn product of our last days in the rag and bone shop of our earthly coil?

Now that my ladder's gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.
                –William Butler Yeats,
                “The Circus Animals’ Desertion”

Copyright © 2015 by Bob Boldt