AN ANTHROPOLOGIST ON
MARS
Seven Paradoxical
Tales
By Oliver Sacks
The
title of the book is the title of the last of seven tales by this
brilliant,
exciting professor of clinical neurology at Albert Einstein College of
Medicine. It is difficult to decide
which of the tales is the most fascinating, but the first is possibly
the most
astonishing. “The Case of the
Colorblind Painter” tells about the predicament of an artist who lost
his sense
of color in an auto accident.
Only a tiny portion of the cerebellum
allows
us to see color. It is not known
whether the accident caused the brain damage, or the accident caused a
stroke
that caused the damage, or a stroke caused the accident and the damage,
or
carbon monoxide released by the collision caused the damage. All these possibilities have been
considered.
At any rate, the
artist was distraught almost to the point of suicide, but the support
of
friends and doctors kept him alive.
Almost against his will, he tried making black and white
pictures. Eventually he came to enjoy his
new art and
regained his livelihood.
“To See and Not
See” tells the sad story of Virgil, whose eyesight was restored without
the joy
expected by his fiancée. After the
initial delight, he found that life was full of difficulty. Having trained as a massage therapist, and
having become very accomplished at it, he had to accustom himself to
seeing
instead of merely feeling. After
forty-five years of blindness, he had no experience with sight, so
didn’t know
what or whom he was seeing! He had no
concept of size or distance.
What turned the
story into a sad one was a sudden attack of lobar pneumonia, which kept
him
hospitalized for months and released only with an oxygen cylinder At the end of a year, he had become
completely blind again, but not nearly as disappointed as his doctors
and his
wife. He had returned to the world he
found comfortable.
“Prodigies” tells
the wonderful story of an autistic boy whose talent was drawing. His friends and family were so supportive
that he had no discomfort. He had no
feelings, as is typical of many autistic people, no pride in his
marvelous art
that enjoyed even commercial success. When friends took him to Europe,
he drew
cathedrals and palaces while hardly concentrating.
Another feature of autism that had been discovered, besides the
absence of feeling, is the absence of development.
Steven never grew in his skill.
However, his friends were surprised that he had musical talent
as
well. We have all seen musical “idiot
savants” on television. Dr. Sacks says
that such talents occur in about 10% of the autistic.
<>Now for the last
story, the title story. This one has
been featured on television and in magazines, the story of an autistic
woman
who was saved as was Helen Keller, by a sensitive teacher who caused
the
three-year-old screamer to talk instead of screaming.
Temple Grandin grew up to hold a Ph.D. in animal science, to
teach at Colorado State University, and to run her own business. Her sensitivity to the feelings of inanimate
creatures has revolutionized the handling of cattle in that she teaches
cattle
handlers to avoid unnecessary harming of the creatures.
Since she has
difficulty empathizing with people and understanding complex emotions
and the
“games people play,” she says she often feels like “an anthropologist
on
Mars.” Her brilliance causes jealousy
in people, especially men, when she can design a device better than
anyone
else. Since she does not know how to
interact with people, she invented a squeeze machine, a box that
administers a
hug such as she remembers wanting but fearing in childhood. She has discovered that animals are much
like autistic people, suffering from sudden noises, for example. She has designed squeeze chutes for cattle
to calm them.
When
she
discovered the study of science, the objectivity and regularity showed
her the
way to her career. Animal scientists
the world over are now grateful.
What a fascinating
book! But everything I’ve read by Sachs
has been marvelous, informative, enlightening.
This one may be the best.
<>
Barbara
DuBois
December
28, 2005
BUFF
<>
A buff who
loves music or baseball or trains is a fan.
The source
was the color; a yellowish beige or a tan
of the coat
that was worn by the busy New York volunteers
who loved
to respond to alarms and extinguish the fires.
If the
weather’s too warm for you, then you may sleep in THE buff
A light
cotton covering sheet is most likely enough.
You might
happily swim in the buff if there’s no one around;
you
probably wouldn’t enjoy being spotted or found.
Then
there’s TO buff, a verb you can easily use
after
polish, to improve the pitiful look of your shoes
or use on
your fingernails if you’d create a nice shine
or after
polishing cream, to make silver look fine.
“Buff” is a
useful word we can thank buffaloes for
though of
that etymology I am not perfectly sure.
<>
Barbara
DuBois
LOGGING
By Barbara DuBois
The poem is written,
each perfect word in perfect place
but work remains: logging the submission.
I must not send a poem twice to the same contest.
One contest runs six times a year;
I could easily get confused.
Now my log has a separate page for that address.
I must log each rejection to send the poem out again
like a Girl Scout trying to sell cookies.
Even joyful acceptance and appearance
do not end the logging.
I must decide who deserves a copy;
I must mail an accompanying letter.
Sailors started logging by using a piece of wood
to measure speed. I use a pencil.
But I don’t care about speed;
I welcome all this paperwork:
it postpones the moment when I must
face the blank paper again.
I love to log.