Then there were a few minutes more of applause while Reverend La Belle disappeared through the curtains, and Little Lion stood on 90%—I WILL!, with his hands holding firmly to 100%—I DID!
“The best lesson I ever learned, I learned from an oyster,” Little Lion began. “Up here in lake country, I don’t know if you know about oysters. Up here in the beautiful Finger Lakes of New York State, I doubt you think very much about oysters … unless you’re going out somewheres fancy to eat a gourmet dinner, and then maybe you think about oysters. Oysters Rockefeller, with the spinach and the celery and the Parmesan cheese, fancied-up oysters that’ll give you a taste thrill for some five, six, seven dollars or more now in these inflated times!
“Oysters. Up here in the beautiful Finger Lakes of New York State you don’t think about oysters, do you? Unless you’re hungry and your taste buds are telling you ooooooh I’d like an oyster, like one on the half shell, like one with a little horseradish sauce, like one with a wedge of lemon to squeeze over it, like an oyster on the half shell, iced, sitting in a bed of crisp, cool lettuce. An oyster.
“Well now, you didn’t come here this morning for this, to hear about oysters, up here in the beautiful Finger Lakes of New York State, say what the heck is that dwarf doing talking about an oyster, Sunday morning, church … oyster? Oyster?”
Little Lion looked out at us, all around the room, so silent you could hear a pin drop. He ran his hand over his red curly hair.
Then he shouted, “Yes, an oyster!”
And the heavens above collaborated with him: Lightning flashed at the long, thin windows of the church.
“An oyster is an extraordinary creature, in case you don’t know about oysters up here in lake country. Up here in lake country you’ve got a lot of problems and I know it. I know you have! You step outside your door every morning to face them: Your kids are leaving this town because there’s no industry to employ them, nothing to keep them here. Your kids are going to school and they’re finding pot, marijuana, right there in the recess yard along with the slides and swings, grass that isn’t the kind you walk on, but the kind that clouds the mind! You have problems up here in the beautiful Finger Lakes. I know you have!”
There was more lightning.
Little Lion looked as though the heavens were exclaiming with him and nodded.
“You got in-law problems, and outlaw problems, and you can’t communicate with your wife, and your husband drinks, and your mother is old now and feeble, and your best friend and you have lost touch, and your parents criticize you all the time without ever asking to hear your side. They don’t want to hear it, sometimes it seems they don’t give a plugged nickel for your side, just everyone’s but yours. You get so darned discouraged with everything that’s going on, you could die! I know it. Lord, I know it.”
Little Lion stepped down to 80%—I CAN!
“What’s the sense of it all, anyway?”
He stepped down to 70%—I THINK I CAN!
He said, “What’s the point of it all? You tell me.”
It began to rain, a hard windy rain that beat against the church windows. He went down to the next rung and said, “Faith? Faith in what? You tell me.”
He went down to 50%—I THINK I MIGHT! “Love? Speak up, I didn’t quite catch the word. Love? Did you say love? What’s love? Hah? You tell me.”
Another rung down. Beside me, Gus Gregory was clutching his hat so tightly his knuckles had turned red.
“It’s all turned against me, see. How do you cope when it all goes against you? How? You tell me.”
On 30%—I WISH I COULD!, Little Lion paused, removed a white handkerchief from his pocket, put it to his face, held it there, put it back. Then he sobbed out, “Don’t console me! I’m tired of it. Don’t pacify me! I’ve had it! Don’t lead me on and on and on because where am I going? I don’t want to keep going until I know where I’m going…. You tell me.”
Little Lion moved down to the next rung. “O Lord, where’d you go? Were you ever here or was that all just so much … talk,” the last word very softly. “Was it all just talk? Were you ever interested in me? Me, Lord. Me! Are you around for me? You tell me.”
Little Lion stepped to 10% and stood there silently.
Then he said, “The most extraordinary thing about the oyster is this. He doesn’t have to go out and find his problems. He’s got them built in! Irritations! Irritations! They’re as much a part of him as my heart or my liver or my lungs are a part of me. How does he stand living with those irritations built right into his shell?”
Little Lion stepped down to 0%—I WON’T! He shook his head and said in a humming whine that began a great sob, “You tell me!”
Then he stepped away from the ladder.
He walked slowly to the front of the podium.
“He tries to get rid of the irritations. Oh, God, how he tries! He tries to get rid of them and he tries to get rid of them and oh, God, they don’t go away! They won’t go away. They are there to stay. They are as much a part of him as my heart or my liver or my lungs!
“He says go away, get out, go, leave me, please, go! But they are there to stay!
“Now listen to what he does. Listen to what this oyster does. This extraordinary creature doesn’t ask what’s the point of it all! He doesn’t say anything about faith in what—he’s got enough faith to fill an ocean! He doesn’t say, What’s love? He doesn’t ask how to cope, or where he’s going, or how
