The Melancholic Life of Fred Morris
description
Transcript of The Melancholic Life of Fred Morris
To my loving family.
publishing
Table of contents
Prologue
Exodus
Courage
Pack your Bags
Choo Choo
Denver
Check-in
God
Day One
In Search
Are You Sick?
Chance
Hope
Return
Home
Date
Plunge Into Darkness
Epilogue
8
10
14
18
26
30
36
40
44
48
56
60
66
74
80
84
90
92
He who saves a life is considered as if he who saved the whole world.
–Talmudic Tenet
7 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Prologue
Prologue
In 1903, The White Plague had devoured America
and taken some 150,000 lives annually. Tuberculosis
had raped America of it’s health and had caused
needless loss of many lives. Denver became a prime
spot for people infected by the disease to find relief,
it’s fresh air and sunshine had proven to relieve some
of the symptoms of Tuberculosis. A group of idealistic
Jewish a in Denver decided to attempt to remedy
the situation, they had purchased twenty acres of
land one mile west of Denver. With the guidance and
leadership of Drs. C.D. Spivak and Philip Hilkowitz,
JCRS was formed. The word spread quick throughout
the country and many people came fleeting to JCRS
for salvation.
Mr. Fred Morris entered the main gates of JCRS in the
spring of 1906.
9 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Exodus
The world is a cruel place, we’re brought up to
think that it isn’t—that there is justice, there is
peace, and thtere is reason. But if we took one step
back, and looked at the canvas that is our lives, we
would soon realize that it’s like building a deck of
cards to just
down. I used to think that
I would live a long life, one with vigilance and love
and wondrous things that filled this world, but alas,
it’s as if the grim reaper had pointed randomly upon
an audience and picked me.
Exodus
fall
it
watch
all
10 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
I feel nothing, I have felt nothing for a while now.
I stare into the sapphire sky, still, silent. Every so
often a breeze would hit the side of my face, and
for just a second, I believe I still exist. I can feel
my own heartbeat, every single one. It’s funny, how
majestic and beautiful this world can be, and for us
to be the observers of it’s majesty, it’s a privilege.
One that many don’t notice or understand.
I can feel the coarse sand underneath me; the tiny
grass blades that poke through the holes of the
fabric of my clothing, it all used to irritate me, but
that feeling has long since dissipated. If you were
to ask me how long I have been lying here, my
best guess would have to be at least a day, I have
seen the sun rise and set only once, or did it? My
stomach had been aching for days trying to thread
through this forest, trying to find some sense of
salvation, but to no avail. Pure luck has brought
me back to this clearing in the middle of nowhere.
Trees surround me from every angle, and all I’m left
with is a clear view of the sky.
11 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Exodus
The feeling of dread somehow seems to heighten
as I know that soon I will leave behind the sight of
this endless sky. Infinite possibilities, infinite dreams
and stars. As a kid you think you live forever; you
think exactly what the sky stands for, and to have
those hopes stripped from you, like a mother
losing her child, you start truly appreciating the life
you were meant to live.
Every breath used to hurt, but it seems that I’ve felt
so much pain for so long, I’ve passed the threshold
of feeling pain. It just seems like every breath I
take becomes shorter and shoter and shtr. for an
unexplained reason, but I know it will come to an
end, I think they all somehow knew too.
As my sight slowly blurs , all I see is a strange
looking metal bird streaking through the sky, quite a
funny thought - a huge metal bird flying, that would
be the day. I remember a time when I thought about
dying that way too, that I would never leave this
earth, that I would be sick of it. I got sick though,
and it all started back home in Des Moines, Iowa.
blurs
13 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Courage
I love this attic, the rustic smell of old books seem
to fill the air as I push through the little hole in the
ground. A cloud of dust fills the air and you’re left
with a heavy sense of nostalgia. As I take my first steps
onto the platform, the floor creeks a little, reminding
me of just how old this attic is.
In a little corner of the room I see my old toy chest.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen that thing, I remember
the hours of fun I used to have imagining my own
little world of horses, trains and princes. How my
mother would break the spell and say “that’s enough
now Fred.” and as simple as that I’m snapped back
into reality. I guess you could say the same about this
disease, a harsh, snap! back to reality that I feel
abrasive about. You never consider dying, and to be
quite honest I’m not ready to even contemplate it. But
I don’t have a choice, death has knocked on my door
and I have look at it right in it’s eyes and consider
my mortality.
Courage
14 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
“FRED.” I hear from downstairs - it was probably
mother calling me for supper. But I shrug it off as
though I didn’t hear her. I opened my toy chest,
hoping I’ll find some hidden treasure that’s been there
for years. I sift through all the blocks, strings and and
train tracks to see a little shiny sphere on the bottom
of the box. I make an effort for it and pull it out with a
infant like excitement that I haven’t experienced in a
while.
“SUPPER’S READY” my mother shouts again, but I’m
so fixated on the sphere now that I pretended not to
hear her again.
It’s covered in a layer of dust, it’s cold with a little
silver metal stand I’m assuming holds it up, I clear a
little section of it with my thumb and I see a tiny metal
structure in the sphere. I use the edge of my shirt to
clean the rest of it off. It was a snow globe, and in
the middle of it, the monument that captured the
fascination of the world - the Eiffel tower. I remember
this snow globe now, when I was but a boy my
father gave this to me. I fondly remember the voice
of my father. His rough, low voice when he handed
15 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Courage
the globe to me. He told me the story of the Tower,
how it defied the possibilities of it’s time, and rose
from the ground, pushing the limits of engineering
and revolutionizing the field. All that, while falling
under the doubtful eye of the French. I didn’t quite
understand what he was saying back then but now I
think the tower stands for something amazing, I think
it stands for resilience, persistence and courage.
I need to be courageous, I need to fight this.
“FRED, SUPPER, NOW.” my mother
shouts again, I grabbed the snow globe and left the
attic, leaving behind a slew of memories, sealing the
little door in the ground, shutting out my past.
17 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Pack Your Bags
Pack your Bags
I placed the globe snugly in my traveling bag, before
I rushed down for supper. My mother hates it when
i’m late for supper. I entered the dining room that
my mother has so tastefully decorated. The walls are
layered with a sheet of wallpaper that gives one the
sense of luxury, a luscious oriental pattern repeats
itself throughout the dining room. The room is also
filled with various furniture that reflected our wealthy
lifestyle, along with a grim mood that filled the room.
I pulled out a chair from the table, it was tall,
reminding me of the Dining room of Castles I used
to read in story books. My mother used to read my
plenty of storybooks as a child, just thinking about
those solemn nights of when mother would pull out
The Arabian Nights and my imagination would whisk
me away on a magical journey filled with adventure.
Her voice would calmly narrate the story as my
eyelids grew heavy and I drifted off to sleep.
18 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
My mother, Annabelle Morris sits directly opposite me
on the other side of the table. On my left, my younger
brother Enis, at the tender age of nine. Ever since he
found out I’m sick, it’s as if I’ve lost a sibling, he has
never treated me the same after he found that this
disease could be potentially fatal. Finally, but certainly
not the least, my father, George Morris, that sits on the
other end of the table. Everyone looked at me as I sat
down, as though something was up.
“Son, how are you feeling today.” my father asked me
in a commanding voice. My father had just returned
from work at the Montefiore Lodge, of which he
retains a seat in the board of trustees. “I’m fine.” I
replied, but as I said it, I could feel my lungs tighten
and making it hard for me to breathe. I remained
silent, trying not to remind them of my horrific fate.
The room was silent as my family joint hands and
said grace. We started eating the food my mother
prepared, food that filled your soul and inspired
your tastebuds.
19 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Pack Your Bags
“Are you ready?” My father asked.
“Almost” I replied.
“Well, you better have everything ready, you’re
leaving next week, and I don’t want you forgetting
anything.”
“I really don’t want to go, father.”
“Well you don’t have a choice, Dr. Spivak is the best
in the country, and the Lodge has already received a
confirmation letter from JCRS.”
I hung my head in silence.
19
20 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
I looked at him with dread in my eyes, knowing there
wasn’t an argument here, I was to do what he wanted
or pay the consequences. I decide to just keep my
silence. The room was solemn as we slowly ate our
food, and as the realization that there might be an
empty seat at the table soon hung lowly over the
heads of family. This wasn’t a disease that just affected
me, it was something that affected everyone in my
family. I am now to travel to Colorado and find a cure
for this wretched thing, father says it’s the best thing
to do. I have known so many people who died of
this disease. First, they feel their completely fine and
simply have a tougher time breathing, but it slowly
deteriorates, it consumes you; it devours you.
It’s when you know you’re on the cusp of death, that life becomes,
relevant.
25 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Choo Choo
Choo Choo
Noise fills the musty old train station, as I stand before
it’s entrance, I see people hugging their families
and bidding their goodbyes. I turn to look at mine,
everyone was there, my mother, father and Enis too.
We stood separated, I by myself, and my parents with
Enis in-between them staring at me, and me at them.
We looked at each other as though it might be last
time we would see each other, for after I leave, there’s
no telling if I’m coming back.
I could see my mother and her eyes filling up with
tears. Her heart must be slowly falling into pieces, one
by one, tiny, brittle pieces of her heart fill the cavity
of her chest. My father tries to put on a brave front,
but I can see him cracking under the pressure, he too
knows that this might be the last time he gets to see
his boy. Enis, little Enis just has his hands over his
eyes, bawling, probably over the thought of losing me.
26 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
I looked at them and the bad memories that we’ve
had just slowly faded away, and all that was left, all
I could imagine are the vividly beautiful moments
we’ve had in the past. Like on our annual spring
picnics that brought so much love and joy to our
family. Me and Enis would always get into tussles
about trivial things and frustrate father indefinitely, but
deep down we knew we all loved each other, and this
moment right now becomes testament to that. I can’t
help but smile as my mind fills with memories.
“Son, be safe” said my Dad as he tries to hold back
his tears and gives me a hearty handshake. “We will
miss you very much.” I looked at him, and for once
in my life, I was no longer a boy in his eyes, I was
a man. Mum just gave me her full embrace, she put
her arms around my neck and buried her sobs on my
chest. I hugged her back, and that was all that needed
to be said.
I took one more look at them, “Goodbye, I love you
all” I said as I picked up my bag, ticket in hand, and
they escorted me to the train.
27 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Choo Choo
I watched through the window as my parents and
Enis slowly fade away into the horizon, I hear one
last thing Enis shouts at me. “Have fun on the Choo
Choo!” he says, It was faint, but I got every word.
“Choo Choo” is what Enis calls my favourite toy train
that I gave to him when he turned six. Tears stream
down my cheek as I watch my family waved
Goodbye
29 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Denver
Denver
“Are you Fred?” she asked, then stood there and
looked at me with a curious face. I was silent, I didn’t
know what to say. “Hi, I’m Fred.” I had been given
instructions by my father to wait outside Union Station
in Denver. It had a huge sign on the front facade
of the building spelling out the words “UNION
STATION” and underneath it “Travel by Train.” I had
been the only one standing out in the chilly colorado
wind that day.
“So, you are Fred” she says, and looks at me once
again. “Hi, my name is Daphne, I’m the Secretary
at JCRS, I’m here to pick you up.” It wasn’t my first
instinct to follow strangers but it seemed that she
was the person I was supposed to meet. “Here come
with me, she says.” she brings me to her auto-mobile
not far from the station. “Get in.” she said and I did
exactly that.
30 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
“Welcome to Denver” Daphne said to me “Have you
been here before?” I turned to her as she got into the
auto-mobile and shook my head from side to side.
She looked at me and said “you don’t talk much
huh?” I simply nodded in agreement, and she started
to drive away. I didn’t know what to say, I did not feel
like expressing myself, the idea of never seeing my
family again lingers in the back of my mind. I’m also
extremely perplexed simply by the idea of being in a
completely different place.
As we drove through the streets of Denver, the sight
of the buildings intimidate me in an awe-inspiring
manner. Compared to Des Moines, Denver had
structure, it had tall buildings owned by huge
conglomerates, it was an actual living, breathing, city.
I’ve never been to one, but simply the idea that now
I will be in such a place was enthralling, exciting and
invigorating, the possibilities are endless.
It was silent as we slowly pulled into a small driveway
that lead to a compound. “Welcome to JCRS”
Suddenly the excitement I had about Denver came
to a crashing halt. I know the majority time here
31 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Denver
wouldn’t be enjoyed to it’s extent, this will be my
home now. This stale, silent, miniature community in
the middle of nowhere is where i will take solace.
I guess.
The moment you realize,this moment might be your last, you ask youself…
do I really want to be here?
35 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Check In
Check In
I stare upon the looming structure in front of me,
small, but looming, bag in one hand my heart in the
other. What if this was it, what if they couldn’t help
me. The building looked sturdy, made of out red bricks
and cream accents, stood squarely in the center at
one end of compound. It must be the main building.
“If you would follow me Mr. Morris.” Daphne said
to me as she caught up and swung her hand down
towards my bag and said, “let me get that for you.”
I nodded and handed the bag over as she placed
her hand on the door and we walked in. “This is the
registrar building as you may see, Dr. Spivak’s office
is right there.” She pointed at a door on her right. She
stood behind a shabby looking desk which I assumed
to be her work table.
“May I have papers please?” She sat down and stared
at me. “Sure” I said as I tried to snap out of my own
head. I ruffled into my bag and pulled out several
36 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
pieces of paper and handed them to her. “Have a
seat” she said.
I turned to find a row of wooden chairs aligned to the
wall next to a plant. There was a small table with a
couple of newspapers set in front of the row of chairs.
I took a seat and picked one up.
“These papers are old” I said, as I looked upon date
of the paper, April 18th, 1906, was printed on the top
right of the paper. On the top, in big bold letters it
read The Rocky Mountain News, and below that an
alarming, grim title twisted the sinews of my heart.
“EARTHQUAKE DEVASTATES SAN FRANCISCO.” it read
from one end of the paper to the other, below it a
subhead “suspected 250,000 perished.” My heart
jerked a little as I couldn’t believe the title, it sank a
thousand miles as my jaw remained wide open. I was
perplexed.
Once again, I shook my head and snapped out of
my own thoughts. “Daphne, is this real?” I asked
with a rock stuck in my throat. “Yes it is, and it’s
the only old newspaper there, we get fresh ones
37 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Check In
in the box outside.” she replied calmly. “Forget
about the newspaper, this earthquake, did it really
happen?” she looked at me curiously and said
“You didn’t know about it? It was quite the news.” I
guess I haven’t heard because I’ve been trapped in a
depressive, vicious cycle that is this disease. I have
spent countless days at home hacking out a lung, I’m
sure father knew, He’s the one that typically runs to
the lodge for work and to the town to drink. I can’t
believe he didn’t tell me about something like this.
“I didn’t.” I diverted my stare away from Daphne and
continued to read the paper.
I kept reading the paper, line for line, and nothing
registered. All I could think about was Auntie Nimes
and her little house in San Francisco. The anxiety
inside me slowly grew as I walked down each
sentence of the paper, I couldn’t manifest another
thought.
39 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris God
God
I’ve always been brought up with faith. My mum
taught me growing up that God is good, God is great,
and he’s responsible for every thing that is in this
world, and everything that will be.
Today I met my tent-buddy Maurice, it’s weird that I
have to share a room now, or rather a tent, I’ve never
had to share one before. It sits surely in the middle
of two other tents, they resemble houses with roofs,
but much smaller. Daphne had got me settled into
one the 14 tents out here, and I guess I might be stuck
here for a little while. I looked through the window
as I lay reclined on the bed with nothing but a pillow
supporting my head. I saw the stars and I thought
about the world, and it’s one creator, God.
My question about God is that, if he is that good
and that great, does that mean he’s incapable of
the horrible things that also happen to us? If it isn’t
him that’s doing any of it, does that mean things just
40 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
happen coincidentally? Maybe, but I believe God is
responsible for everything, I believe that if there is
a being out there that can be benevolent, kind and
endearing and make anything happen at his at a will,
that being is also capable of being everything that’s
bad, horrible or terrifying. The problem with us is that
we only the see the good, we praise a God that has
been responsible for more than just making us happy,
we praise one that strips that happiness away from us.
The Earthquake at San Francisco has been in the back
of my mind every since I checked into JCRS. I keep
hoping deep inside me that Auntie Nimes is okay. I
remember summers as a kid spent frolicking in wide
open fields, and everytime I looked back, it was Mum
and Auntie Nimes smiling at me watching me run.
Those summer she’s spent visiting us only make it
harder to think about losing her. Although she hasn’t
in our lives as of late, I do hope that God could spare
a single soul and let her be fine, let her be well.
250,000 is not a minute amount. It shouldn’t, and
couldn’t be ignored at all. That level of a devastation
leaves a man with a terminal illness with only one
41 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris God
belief. Life is unfair, that there is no God because
there is no judgement. Of the 250,000, how many
do you think deserved death? How many deserve the
painful sensation of being crushed by concrete from
above? Of being stuck under rocks awaiting death —
How many?
My faith in this world and my own life is slowly
deteriorating, and the future just seems
farther
and
Farther
away.
43 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Day One
Day One
I chased myself around the sidewalk and tried to stop
him from taking it away. He had the snow globe in
hand and every bit of hope attached to it. I ran and
ran and ran...
I feel a warmth hit the side of my face, and my dream
had let itself go. My eyes blurred as I tried slowly
opening them. The faint image of a night table starts
to form as I see another sleeping figure groaning on
the other bed - It was Maurice. My vision started to
clear as I looked outside at the bright morning sky,
it’s beauty unparalleled to anything I’ve seen before.
The long stretch of orange through the ethereal
morning sky. I inhaled and felt the breezy draft enter
my body and invigorate me with energy. I felt like I
could breathe again, having a night to rest freed my
mind of the burdens of the world, and I could finally
appreciate the wonderful freshness of the air here.
I sat up and placed my feet on the concrete floor. It
44 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
was cold, and icy, I quickly put on my slippers. The
outside attracted me, I stood up, grabbed my coat and
walked to the door. A wonderful aroma of banana
bread hit my senses. It was a woman with a basket
handing out banana bread to the individual tents. She
came towards me as I looked curious standing outside
in pajama bottoms, slippers and a coat.
“Hi, names’ Beth, would you like some banana
bread?” she was blonde with glass blue eyes, a
feminine nose and a perfect half-moon smile. She
wore thin coat and a loose skirt along with boots. “I
work at the local bakery nearby and I bring bread to
the Sanatorium every other day, you’re new aren’t
you?” Beth said glancing at me. I looked at her and
I couldn’t say a word, once again, flabbergasted by
my own awkwardness. “Hi..hh..hi.” I tried to say but
couldn’t help stuttering. “Mmmy..mm my nnn..name’s
FFFFred” I gave up trying. “Hi, FFFFred nice to meet
you. Once again, would you like bread?” She ignored
my awkwardness and persisted on giving me bread.
“Suurre..” I embarrassingly replied. She took my hand
and placed a loaf of banana bread in it, I looked at
her and smiled, she looked back and walked away.
45 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Day One
“Beth, huh?” I looked at her as she waved goodbye
leaving a generously sweet smile behind, the sweet
aroma of freshly baked bread lingered in the path she
walked and all I’m left with is a perfect memory of a
perfect morning and a perfect encounter.
The afternoon came swiftly and I explored the
grounds. I met many people with different stories
about tuberculosis and how they eventually came
here. I pitied them, I understood their story, for once
in my life I feel kinship with people other than my
family. Sharing a disease, although tragic and horrible,
seems to invoke a sense of camaraderie that you don’t
get otherwise. Something about dying and watching
your clock tick that makes you cherish the people that
understand the situation you’re in. Your mortality is
in jeopardy.
47 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris In Search
In Search
It’s been a week since my last encounter with the
beautiful banana bread girl. Beth was her name, she
hasn’t been back since. Days here in the Sanatorium
have been somewhat positive, the attention I get from
the staff is wonderful, and Dr. Spivak seems very
sincere in helping me through this disease. He said
I was in the early ages but it’s spreading rapidly. But
I feel it, death slowly claiming my body, the chest
pains have only been getting worse and just the other
night I had coughed up some blood, I didn’t tell them
though, I’m scared.
Last week when I met Beth it was a sigh of relief. After
such a long time, only grim thoughts have filled my
head, along with the heads of the people around me.
The disease seems to be the only thing people really
care about. Tuberculosis has already claimed millions
of lives, and here we are standing in the face of
adversity, on a cliff watching the horizon, the blazing
sun that might soon consume us all. Understanding
48 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
that you might just die before your time puts your life
into perspective - what’s worth it and what’s not.
Today has been a bright summer morning as I ponder
about my encounter. I hold the snow globe in my
hand and imagined what it would be like to see Paris
one day. Rendez-vouz a Paris isn’t that what they say?
Meet with me in Paris at the Eiffel tower and we’ll
paint the town red. The romantic notion has captured
the hearts of many and inspired passionate love.
The idea of waiting for someone, wondering if they
might come, some might call it false hope or wishful
thinking, but love inspires me, it lives within me and
the essence of me. But not just romantically, the love
for my family. my friends, my comrades I cherish
immensely, and maybe one day if I survive this
disease I might find the one that is meant to be with
me for the rest of my life.
I need to find her, or at least not miss her. She had
been by once this week but I missed her, but when
I woke there was still a loaf of banana bread on my
desk. It was as if Cinderella had left her shoe at the
ball, and I needed to return it to her - though, the loaf
49 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris In Search
has long since hit the bottom of my belly. I opened
the door and walked to the main building where there
is a cafeteria, I might be able to get some information
from someone there, or maybe even Daphne
“Hi, Fred Morris’ the name, can I get some help?”
It seems that Daphne isn’t working today. It was a
brunette this time, she looked similar to Daphne but
more plump and angry. “What?” She said in a grunt,
“What do you want”, I was a little intimidated as I
tried to ask her about Beth. “There’s a girl that delivers
bread here some mornings, do you know when she
comes around?” I asked with a withdrawn tone, afraid
she might pounce on me at any moment. “What’s it
to ya” she said, once again in a peculiar grunting tone
- something you wouldn’t expect out of a woman.
“You know you’re a patient, you’re not meant to see or
cohort with faculty, be on your way.” she said, trying
to scurry me away. I wasn’t going without a fight, I
placed my fight palm on her shabby little desk and
looked her in the eye “now miss, I’m sorry to say that
I think you’re being rude, but you’re being rude. I just
want to know when I can talk to her, we’re...friends,
nothing more, I’m not some stalker. On top of that,
50 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
she doesn’t even really work here” I said as I stared
into her beady brown eyes. She looked at me with
a stern look “Sundays and Wednesdays she usually
shows up, now get out of my face.” I turned around
immediately and marched out the door, trying to
conceal my joy. But as I walked away I coughed and
tried to seal it with my mouth, I held up my hand and
looked at it, it was blood.
Isn’t it weird? Being so goddamn close to death,but still so captivated
with Love.
55 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Are You Sick?r
I woke up at 5 am on the next Sunday after talking
to Tabatha - the plumpy receptionist that I had a coo
with the week prior, turns out her name was Tabatha.
I had been so obsessed about today that I’ve merely
sat around and looked at my snow globe the past day
or two. I want to meet this woman, and have at least
a chance to say hi before I get denied that chance by
fate. So there I sat up on my bed and looked out the
window, simultaneously looking at the clock waiting
for the hint of her appearance.
It was about 10 o’clock when I smelled a fragrance
that resounded so deeply in my soul, it was indication
that she was here. The waft of unmistakably flavorful
banana bread seeped through the cracks of the
windows right into my nostrils. I jumped out of bed,
grabbed my shirt, put on my slippers and ran for the
door. I stopped, and composed myself realizing I
would look much too eager if I walked out in a haste,
Are You Sick?
56 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
she might question my intentions. I turned the knob
on the door calmly and took my first step outside.
Sure enough she was there, an etherial beauty that
seemed slightly surreal. Spring had come into full
bloom as bright Colorado sun shined through the
locks of her silky hair.
“Beth.” I said, trying as though to make it look
like a coincidence,
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“FFFred! Hi! How’ve you been?” She
remembered me, she changed the direction she was
walking me and walked towards me.
“Hi, we didn‘t really get to talk last time you
came around.”
“So you’re sick right?” She asked, abruptly.
I just looked at her with a curious face, wondering
why she would ask a question like that, I was a little
irked but she continued and said. “Well, you’re at
a Sanatorium, everyone here is sick the question is
what do you have?” She paused and tried to explain
why she asked me if I was sick. “I’m sure a lot of the
57 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Are You Sick?
people here have tuberculosis, that’s what the old lady
in the tent next to yours tells me sometimes. So you
have tuberculosis right?”
I looked at her and sighed, I couldn’t tell if she was
exposing me for my secrets or just attempting to know
me better. “Well, yea...” I said, as my tone slowly
drifted off into nothingness.
“Don’t be grim! I’ve seen tons of people walk out of
here just fine.” She said “I’m sure you will be too.” she
tried to impart some confidence in me, I looked her
and smiled, I felt a connection with someone I haven’t
had for a while. There was a moment of silence until
she pulled out a piece of paper and a tiny little pencil
as she wrote something down on it. She handed the
piece of paper to me. “Here, meet me tomorrow at 3
p.m. at the mug on the side of Colfax just down Pierce,
you can’t miss it.” she twirled around as she had
before, and once again she left me with the lingering
smell of aromatic and wholesome bakery and a
yearning in my heart.
59 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Chance
Chance
Days are getting warmer, but my health isn’t getting
any better. Last night I was so bothered, sleeping
became an impossibility. I’ve been hacking up blood
every so often and they nurses finally know. I’ve been
getting much more attention that I’ve bargained for,
Dr. Spivak tells me that the disease has persisted and
now more than anytime is my only chance to live.
I woke up and my vision was blurry, I didn’t know
where I was. “Mr. Morris? Mr. Morris? Are you
awake?” I heard a feminine voice say. “Fred, are you
awake?” my vision started to clear as my hearing
returned to me, and all at once it seemed like the
world went from pause to play in a few moments.
I gasped for air and looked at a lady with a white
nurse cap on, she looked panicked, as though
something was happening. “Mr. Maurice, could you
please oversee Mr. Morris until I get back? I’ll be
calling Dr. Spivak now.” She said in a commanding
60 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
voice. Joseph Maurice came running to my bedside
with a cup of water. “How are you friend?” he said
in a soft tone, as though he seemed somewhat
concerned for me. Angie, the Nurse walked out.
“You’ve been out like a light for days now.” I was
on the bed in my tent and the last thing I remember
happening was the sensation of falling and that was it.
I groaned and squeezed my eyes together, I felt groggy
and unwell, as if my whole body was aching and
breathing became a chore.
“Good morning Mr. Morris.” A man’s voice comes
shooting through the front door. “Happy to see you
finally awake.” Dr. Spivak walked in with a long white
lab coat along with a warm smile. He walked towards
me and started telling me what happened. “It seems
that your Tuberculosis has spread to your medullae,
the nerve on the back of your neck that controls
balance.” He paused and my heart skipped a beat. “It
seems you fell on hard rocks when the infection set in,
and suffered an internal hemorrhage, you’ve been past
out every since.” Dr. Spivak looked at me and waited
for a response, but got none.
61 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Chance
He walked out eventually with Angie and I was left
with Joseph in the room. I could hardly move, I laid
in bed with a pillow elevating my head, thinking
about life and how it might end soon. I turned over to
Joseph, who was reading a book.
“Do you think I’ll survive?” I said.
“You know Terrance from tent behind ours?
He just died today.” Joseph said.
“What?” Once again, I wondered why would
someone say something like that.
“Yep. he just died, and can’t you see that
you’re still lucky to be here?” Joseph said in a low,
serious tone, and I understood what he meant.
“I’m still here...” I said to myself, and I looked
out the window. Wondering if the beginning of the
end might soon arrive.
How was Beth? I didn’t know either, she must
probably be mad at me for not showing up. I don’t
know what to do. It’s as if I took a leap of faith and
as I tried to jump a bullet knocks me out of the sky. I
don’t know what to do with my life.
I’m still here,I’m still here…
Why.
65 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Hope
Hope
Angie had been by a few times today and had brought
me a stack of letters and placed them on my desk.
I’ve been feeling better lately, walking has become
a possibility again as the infection to my nerves
subsided with the aide of modern medicine. Although
I haven’t seen Beth for a week or so, since last week.
I waited last Sunday, all morning too, but to no avail,
Beth didn’t show.
It was the night time, the silence was still, the moon
was high in the sky and the stars sprinkled the black
canvas and illuminated the night. I was just thinking
about my father’s letter today. “Dear son” it started
with those words, I read the entire letter and I couldn’t
help but read it in a way that my father would have.
In the letter, he told me the family was well but we
weren’t doing so well financially. He mentioned that
he might soon withdraw from the board of trustees as
the Montefiore Lodge was suffering immensely
and required some financial aid from the members.
66 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
Father was expected to a pay a sum he doubts he can
scrape together. Reading the letter line for line just
made me grow more worried about my mother
and Enis.
I picked up the letter from my father on my night table
and started to read again. Everytime my father had
mentioned Enis or mother in the letter I could imagine
their smiles on a summer day, and thinking about how
happy they are and how I cannot let that go.
FWHATP, a rock hit my window.
FWHATPit happened again. I raised
my head from the letter to see what was going on, and
a dark silhouette stood behind the fence that my tent
was facing. It was a girl. Once again I slipped into
my slippers and put on a shirt as I walked out into the
mid-summer night. I walked towards the silhouette
in a curious but cautious manner. “Who is it?” I said
as I tried to approach it, “Me, silly.” a voice pierced
through the warm summer-night air.
67 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Hope
It was Beth, glassy blue eyes, silky blonde hair and
all. She was behind the fence hurling rocks at my
window. “What are you doing here? you’re not
allowed here.” I said with a soft voice. The darkness
of the night covered my tracks, and it seems the
groundskeeper hasn’t been doing her rounds tonight.
“I’ve come to see you, FFFFred, I heard about what
happened to you, Tabatha told me the sad news.” she
said with a whiff of spunk. “I’m sorry, but look on the
bright side, you’re alive!”
“I may be alive” I said. “But I barely feel like living.”
my head was held down as I talked to her through the
chain link fence. “Here, come this way” she said as
she led me down the chain link fence. “Come through
here” she said. There was a small, narrow hole in the
chain link fence that lead to the outside. It had been
in a dark corner of a compound behind a tree, but it
seems Beth knew about it. “I found this the other day.”
she said with a grin on her face.
“I shouldn’t be doing this” I thought to myself,
but Beth’s grin had convinced me otherwise, her
sweetness had captured my heart and warmed it from
68 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
the icy cold depths it had been residing it. “Where
have you been?” I asked “No one has seen you
around.”
“That’s not true,” she replied, as we stood
awkwardly on the outside of the Sanatorium, near the
fence. “Tabatha saw me at The Mug the other day.”
“Tabatha? that mean witch?” I replied with a
small chuckle.
“Yes, Tabatha, she’s just misunderstood, she’s
actually quite nice.” she said. “I’ve been quite busy,
grim times are amongst us.”
“How is it grim for you?”
“My mother is sick, the doctors say it isn’t
looking good, and my father can’t run a bakery by
himself.” she uttered “She has been sick for about
years now, and soon she says she wants to go home
to die.” I looked into her eyes and I could tell that
she was close to tears. It seems that our unfortunate
fates have forced us to stare into the face of death and
wonder if life is a possibility.
I looked at her and said. “I know how you feel, but
69 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Hope
you know what gives me hope?” I said. “Give me
one second, I’ll show you what gives me hope.” I ran
back to my tent and retrieved the snow globe from my
back pack, I sneaked quietly but surely back to Beth.
Maurice was snoring up a storm as I entered and left
the tent.
“Here” I handed the snow globe to her. “I’ve never
shown anyone this before, but I’d like to show it to
you.” she took the sphere from my hand, looked at it
for moment and shook it. “It’s beautiful.” she said, our
eyes locked for a second, “What does it mean?” she
said. My charming side took over, a part of me that
I’ve hardly seen in the past. “It stands for Romance,
spirit and Hope. Paris, the city of love. My dad gave
me that when I was younger, and told me stories
of the majestic Eiffel tower.” A veil of silence fell as
she simply stared into the snow globe as I’ve had
before. “Rendez-vouz a Paris. that’s what they say,
Lets meet in Paris.” We locked eyes once again, and
the intensity grew ten folds. I skipped a thought as I
pulled her in close, and in a moment we were locked
in a passionate hug, burning with desire and love and
understanding.
70 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
“Will you meet with me in Paris?” I said, as her eyes
locked in with mine. Our fatal attraction had worked
it’s magic. “Maybe one day.” she said.
We sat together and talked for hours about love, life
and the universe. We sat under the tree next to the
hole in the fence and watch as the stars reminded us
of the majesty of the world and our purpose in it. We
shared our secrets and told our stories, and as our
conversation ran deep into the night we parted ways.
“Take this snow globe.” I said “May it represent Hope
to you.” I handed her the sphere as she walked into
the dark, mysterious night.
73 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Return
Return
It’s been several months now since I’ve seen Beth,
mid October to be exact, the last I heard from her was
from a note on my desk along with a loaf of bread one
afternoon. She had been by that morning but once
again I found myself recuperating. She had left the
state and went back to Virginia to respect her mothers
wishes of dying back home. But somehow, knowing
that we spent that one night together fills my heart
with enough warmth to comfort myself, and hope that
she is fine.
My health has been getting much better, ever since
that encounter with Beth something shifted inside me.
It might have just been the way I looked at the world
or simply knowing there’s someone out there that
could love me, or at least maybe. The chest pains have
lighthen up and Dr. Spivak says that the Tuberculosis
might have already receeded from my nerve endings.
I’ve thought about Beth every night and can’t wait for
74 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
the day that she returns, I’m sure I’ll see her through
that fence again, one day.
I picked up the newspaper today, and spent much
of my time reading it at my desk in my little tent. It
seems that the world today is much more violent than
the world we used to know. On September 22nd,
1906 a racial riot took place in Atlanta, killing 27
people. Why does race have to be such a big deal?
Why do we scrutinize and hate without giving them a
chance? My faith in the human race dissolves slowly
as I think of the horrible things humans are capable
of doing. We can’t even treat our fellow men with
respect, people that live in the same country; that live
on the same food; that bleed if we poke them as if
we poked poked ourselves. I think that the world is in
a state of pain and suffering, and some one, anyone
needs to stand up and make a change.
Dr. Spivak had walked in as I finished read the
newspaper. “Mr. Morris.” He said “I have good news,
your father has requested your discharged and return
to Des Moines. I told him that you have been doing
just fine, though it was rocky at the start. It seems
75 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Return
here that the tuberculosis seems to be under control.
As long as you take your medicines you should be
fine to leave JCRS.” My eyes opened wide, and I
couldn’t help but jump out of my chair with joy. I
shook Dr. Spivak’s hand “thank you, thank you.” I
said, repeatedly, with tears flowing down my cheeks.
I can’t believe that I might stand a chance against this
horrible disease. My life may go back to normal.
“Though, I would like you to take one for physical
examination before you leave, we’ll send you the
results in the mail as soon as we have it, but for now,
your father urgently requests your return.” Dr. Spivak
said as he walked out and i’m left a grin on my face.
And I wave goodbye to Denver;I waved goodbye to…
Beth.
79 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Home
Home
It had been a long, lonesome ride on the train as I
thought about my return to Iowa. Would everything
go back to normal now? Would life really revert back
to the way it was before? I looked at the mountains in
the distance slowly faded into the past. Tree by tree
I was getting closer to seeing my family once again.
I closed my eyes as I slowly drifted off to a solemn
dream.
Before I knew it I was back at the Union Station in
Des Moines. I walked out the front door and the first
face I see is Dad with a big grin and eyes wide open.
He was wearing a long coat with a black fedora, I ran
into his arms immediately. “I missed you Dad” I said
as he embraced his boy in his arms. I could tell he
was relieved that I came home fine. I looked at him,
he put his arms around my shoulder and said “lets go
home son.” We drove home in our Columbia Electric
Roundabout which my dad bought a few years ago
for the sake of a fad. “It commands respect” my father
80 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
said, assuming respect came packaged along with
with a fancy new electric vehicle. I think otherwise.
“Son, I need to talk to you about something” he said
in a fatherly voice. “The family has been struggling
with money lately, the lodge is suffering and we’re not
doing too well.” a depressive tone followed the stream
of his voice. “I need you to do something.” We stared
at each other for a second, he looked at me from the
corner of his eye. “I need you to marry a girl.” he said,
without any hesitation. “There’s a girl named Victoria,
her father owns a winery not too far from here, her
father is also part of the board of trustees, and I think
you guys might get along.”
“Marriage?” I said, with a slightly aggressive tone.
“I’m not ready for marriage, and that doesn’t even
include the fact that she might not be the one I want
to love for the rest of my life.” I couldn’t believe his
pertinence. “You haven’t even met her” he said, trying
to argue his case.
I shook my head from side to side and looked out on
the wide open pastures slightly outside of De Moines,
81 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Home
it looked calm and solemn, a heavy mood came over
us as silence became the main theme of the car ride
once again.
When we got back home, I took took my bags and got
out of the car trying not to look at my Dad. “You owe
the family this.” he said, I furiously ignored him and
rampaged through the door.
“And son, this is the only hope, you need to do this.”
he said as his slowly faded into the background.
83 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Date
Date
Her face is intolerable, rough and full of freckles and
sores. She’s quite plump along with a huge nose that
doesn’t fit her face. She resembled something like a
disfigured raccoon. Victoria wasn’t a sight to behold,
in fact she was a sight that I really did not enjoy
looking at. It didn’t compare to a Summers day nor
a rose, in fact she could be quite scary in the right
light. Her attitude was horrendous, she wouldn’t
take no for an answer and was very rude when I
suggested something, she would put it down and then
decline it. She was very frazzled, always constantly
moving, touching things (even things I don’t find quite
appropriate.) I didn’t like her, at all.
She returned from the toilet as I sat at the table trying
to finish my food before she came back. “My dear,
you eat really slow” she said with a snarky voice. “I’m
already done and you’re still halfway there.” I looked
at her in disbelief.
84 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
The dinner ended soon enough, and I had sent her
home in our Columbia Electric Runabout and saw
her off. She tried to kiss me but I dodged it within a
moments notice. “I’m not ready yet” I said as I hastily
drove away. She looked dumbfounded and confused
as I tried to run from the Harpy.
“Father, I’m not marrying that Witch.” I said “I don’t
like her, not one bit.” he was pouring some whisky
into a glass as I complained with utter passion. “She’s
cruel, ugly and unkind, I cannot spend my life with
such a woman.”
He looked at me with glass in hand. “Son, I’ve pulled
all my strings to save your life, you respect what I’ve
done for you and do this for the family, otherwise we
will be financially screwed and we would have to
sell the house.” I looked at him, and I knew I couldn’t
convince him that this wasn’t for me. I ran up to my
room in disbelief, what do I do, I can’t do anything.
Victoria would only bring me dark days in the future
and I’m not ready for that. I sat on my bed and
pondered the idea of giving away my life to such a
female. On my table lied a couple of letters addressed
85 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris Date
to me, I went and shuffled through the stack and
found an envelope from JCRS - it must be my results.
I opened it carefully, intense and unconfidently, as I
know that I might not be as well as I thought when I
left. The coughs have been coming back and as every
passes, it gets increasingly harder to breathe. I pulled
out the piece of paper and my eyes grew wide open.
Dear Mr. Morris,
I’m sorry to report that the pulmonary
tuberculosis has become active again and has
occupied a large portion of your right lung. We advise
that you obtain help immediately or return to JCRS for
emergency care.
Secretary.
I must have stared at the piece of paper for half an
hour. I stared and it and there lied my future: death. I
86 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
sat and contemplated for a little while, I looked at the
piece of paper as tears started to collect on the bottom
of my eyelids. My face was motionless, stunned in
disbelief of the misfortunate fate that I had come
across.
I don’t want to live anymore, I’m not going to live. I
can’t go through the pain like this, I can’t go back to
the hospital and dread those lonely days once again.
I cannot marry Victoria and her prissy attitude, I can’t
do this.
89 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
Plunge Into Darkness
I packed my bag, one by one I placed my valuables in
it. “Only the necessities!” I said, but I ignored myself
and packed some sentiments along with my clothes. I
threw in a few more things and strapped it around my
shoulders and looked into my dresser mirror.
“This is it Fred.” I said, staring at myself, piercing into
my own soul. I’m half the man I used to be, all that
stood before me was a shell of man, empty, sorrowed,
hurt. I took deep breath, and I placed my foot outside
my bedside window and I was on the roof, I stared
upon the dark horizon, nothing but a stretch of stars in
the deep black sky.
I jumped to the ground with a series of boxes and
barrel’s father had placed in the backyard. I looked
into the darkness, I stared it right and deep, and I
began to run, and run and plunge into darkness…
91 The Melacholic Life of Fred Morris
The iron-gray haired woman stood on the edge of
second floor of the Eiffel tower. As she looked upon
the city she saw the endless possibilities that lied
in nooks and crannies of the most romantic city
on earth. The boulevards were filled with people,
bustling, noisy. The tender Paris winds grazes her
face as it reminds her for a second of the old love she
once had. She holds up a snow globe next to her face
and peers through it’s shiny surface. “Rendez-vouz a
Paris.” she said, she closed her eyes and gasped for
one final breathe of air, as her soul found peace...
ColophonTitle: The Melancholic life of Fred MorrisDesigner: ©2012 Ian Tan
CreditsFred Morris#216
Documents and Photography Courtesy of:JCRS Collection, Beck ArchivesSpecial Collection,Penrose Library andCenter for Judaic Studies,University of Denver
TypefacesOptima FamilySofiaMuseo Slab 500
PaperSpring Hill 24lb Text Weight Natural White
publishing