any one like that, not even your best friend, I said to myself.
All the way home I kept carrying on a monologue. It went something like this...
So what if he is a pain in the ass? Sure, every one has to solve his own problems, but—is that a reason to turn a man down? You're not a Vivekananda. Besides, would Vivekananda have acted that way? You don't snub a man who's in distress. Nor do you have to let him puke over you either. Supposing he is acting like a child, what of it? Is your behavior always that of an adult? And wasn't that a lot of shit, about not having anything in common any more? He should have walked away from you then and there. What you have in common, my fine Swami, is plain ordinary human weakness. Maybe he did stop growing long ago. Is that a crime? No matter at what point along the road he is, he's still a human being. Move on, if you like ... keep your eyes straight ahead ... but don't refuse a laggard a helping hand. Where would you be if you had had to go it alone? Are you standing on your own two feet? What about all those nobodies, those nincompoops, who emptied their pockets for you when you were in need? Are they worthless, now that you no longer have need of them?
No, but...
So you have no answer! You're pretending to be something which you're not. You're afraid of falling back into your old ways. You flatter yourself that you're different, but the fact is you're only too much like the others whom you glibly condemn. That crazy elevator runner was on to you. He saw right through you, didn't he? Frankly, what have you accomplished with your own two hands, or with that intellect you seem so proud of? At twenty-one Alexander started out to conquer the world, and at thirty he had the world in his two hands. I know you're not aiming to conquer the world—but you'd like to make a dent in it, wouldn't you? You want to be recognized as a writer. Well, who's stopping you? Not poor MacGregor, certainly. Yes, there is only one sin, as Vivekananda said. And that is weakness. Take it to heart, old man ... take it to heart! Come down off your high horse! Come out of your ivory tower and join the ranks! Maybe there's something more to life than writing books. And what have you got to say that's so very important? Are you another Nietzsche? You're not even you yet, do you realize that?
By the time I reached the corner of our street I had beaten myself to a pulp. I had about as much spunk left in me as a stoat. To make it worse, Sid Essen was waiting for me at the foot of the steps. He was wreathed in smiles. Miller, he said, I'm not going to take up your valuable time. I couldn't keep this in my pocket another minute.
He pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. What's this? I said.
A little token from your friends. Those darkies think the world of you. You're to buy something with it for the Missus. It's a little collection they made among themselves.
In my crestfallen state I was on the verge of tears. Miller, Miller, said Reb, throwing his arms around me, what are we ever going to do without you?
It'll only be a few months, I said, blushing like a fool.
I know, I know, but we're going to miss you. Have a coffee with me, won't you? I won't keep you. There's something I've got to tell you.
I walked back to the corner with him, to the candy and stationery shop where we had first met.
You know, he said, as we took a seat at the counter, I've almost a mind to join you. Only I know that I'd be in the way.
Somewhat embarrassed, I replied: Guess most everybody would love to go to Paris for a vacation. They will too, one day...
I meant, Miller, that I'd love to see it through your eyes. He gave me a look that melted me.
Yes, I said, disregarding his words, one day it won't be necessary to take a boat or a plane to get to Europe.
All we need to learn now is how to overcome the force of gravitation. Just stay put and let the earth spin round under your feet. It travels fast, this old earth. I went on in this vein, trying to overcome my embarrassment. Engines, turbines, motors ... Leonardo da Vinci. And we're moving like snails, I said. We haven't even begun to use the magnetic forces which envelop us. We're cave men still, with motors up our bung holes...
Poor Reb didn't know what to make of it. He was itching to say something, but he didn't want to be impolite and head me off. So I rattled on.
Simplification, that's what we need. Look at the stars—they have no motors. Have you ever thought what it is that keeps this earth of ours spinning like a ball? Nikola Tesla gave a lot of thought to it, and Marconi too. No one has yet come up with the final answer.
He looked at me in utter perplexity. I knew that whatever it was that was on his mind it wasn't electromagnetism.
I'm sorry, I said. You wanted to tell me something, didn't you?
Yes, he said, but I don't want to...
I was only thinking out loud.
Well, then ... He cleared his throat. All I wanted to tell you was this ... if you should get stranded over there, don't hesitate to cable me. Or if you want to prolong your stay. You know where to reach me. He blushed and turned his head away.
Reb, I said, nudging him with my elbow, you're just too damned good to me. And you hardly know me. I mean, you've known me only a short time. None of my so-called friends would do as much, that's a bet.
To this he replied—You don't know what your friends are capable of doing for you, I'm afraid. You've never given them a chance.
I fairly exploded. I haven't, eh? Man, I've given them so many chances they don't even want to hear my name.
Aren't you a bit hard on them? Maybe they didn't have what to give.
That's exactly what they said, all of them. But it's not true. If you don't have you can borrow—for a friend. Right? Abraham offered up his son, didn't he?
That was to Jehovah.
