The Thinker
I once knew a man living in the hills of Appalachia who spent most of his time in a rocking chair by an old, dirty window, thinking. He'd take an occasional puff off a pipe and his brow would scowl to create a serious mood. He was incredibly smart, and he knew it. His goal seemed to be nothing but thinking of ways to make solving problems easier. He lived next door and was seeing my mother off and on at the time. I'd occasionally run over to his abode to pick up this or that, or deliver news. He was always sitting in his rocking chair. I rarely ever witnessed him getting up to do anything at all, and this included his efforts to clean up around him as the world kept living. He claimed he was thinking of ways to do this more efficiently.
While I was making my daily visit one morning, I had to run to use his bathroom. I proceeded with business, and noticed a dead, tiny mouse lying on the floor. I remember being in a rush and instead of doing anything with it, I went and told him before running out the door. He gave me a hand signal and a "thank you", and remained in his chair. I was about 11 years old at the time, so I couldn't wait to tell mother there was a dead mouse in her boyfriend's bathroom. She told me to let him deal with it, and so I did. Over the course of the next month, this mouse stayed in its place on the tiles, slowly rotting away as the man sat in his rocking chair. He was probably thinking of more systematic ways to dispose of the little guy. Pretty soon, this mouse was a mouse no longer. It was just a little pile of dust on the floor.
I often wondered if I'd visit one day to find the man himself dead, wilting away in front of his window. I'm sure he had all sorts of incredible ideas, and had probably even conceived a few tangible inventions in that brilliant mind. But he never raised himself up and out of his chair long enough to do any of it. I've been told I make impulsive decisions and that some of my ideas are insane. But I've lived an interesting life, and at least I always picked my mice up off the floor.
While I was making my daily visit one morning, I had to run to use his bathroom. I proceeded with business, and noticed a dead, tiny mouse lying on the floor. I remember being in a rush and instead of doing anything with it, I went and told him before running out the door. He gave me a hand signal and a "thank you", and remained in his chair. I was about 11 years old at the time, so I couldn't wait to tell mother there was a dead mouse in her boyfriend's bathroom. She told me to let him deal with it, and so I did. Over the course of the next month, this mouse stayed in its place on the tiles, slowly rotting away as the man sat in his rocking chair. He was probably thinking of more systematic ways to dispose of the little guy. Pretty soon, this mouse was a mouse no longer. It was just a little pile of dust on the floor.
I often wondered if I'd visit one day to find the man himself dead, wilting away in front of his window. I'm sure he had all sorts of incredible ideas, and had probably even conceived a few tangible inventions in that brilliant mind. But he never raised himself up and out of his chair long enough to do any of it. I've been told I make impulsive decisions and that some of my ideas are insane. But I've lived an interesting life, and at least I always picked my mice up off the floor.
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