Drawing with Words
Light illuminates, shows us the way, gives us hope. A tiny pinpoint of it shatters total darkness. It allows us to see what is already there. On the other hand, darkness can have its soothing qualities. But when enshrouded by this ever encompassing blanket, fear and isolation become our unwelcomed patners. It can consume us in one swallow. In 1942, I was full of high spirits and fighting the war on paper. Too young for the Service, I threw myself into spying and intrigue by way of my own comic strip hero. His name was Jim Turner, American Spy. For the price of a fifty cent unlined pad of paper and a 2B pencil, I circumvented the laws of age and entered the war through a different door. Of course, Jim Turner lead the way...and what a time we had! Strangely enough, I seldom drew his overseas adventures (or anywhere else for that matter) portraying daylight hours. The darknes of evening casting long, dramatic shadows fell more comfortably in place for me and Jim. All of those adventures were drawn from my parents' comfortable living room easy chair. I was sixteen then, but when I turned seventeen, I rushed down to the Marine Corp Induction Center. No more pretending now. I had put away Jim Turner and now was about to enter what was thought of by me as 'summer camp'. I can remember a lot of details about one thing or another, but for the life of me have no clue as to how my father found out about my attempt to be a Marine and so promptly informed the recruiting officer I was still under age. And, So, my balloon burst. At the age of eighteen, I enlisted. This time in the Air Force. It was far more romantic and heroic to be a pilot. And, the girls would be very impressed, I thought. When the barracks lights were turned off at Fort Dix, one could occassionally hear the low whimperings of someone in the sack. The room was dark and lonely. There must have been twenty of us to a barrack. Homesickness penetrated the evening hours. Most of us managed to stifle this feeling, but not all...not knowing when we would return to our families, now or maybe never (the war was still going on). It was not so much where we were, but more the hour. The darkness has a way of amplifying whatever may ail us. During 'basic training' in Mississippi, I became quite ill. Separating myself from the rest of the platoon, a tall shade tree caught my attention and it was there I fell into a deep, deep sleep. Nighttime came upon us all very quickly. During the daylight hours, we could, without too much difficulty, manage...there were doctors and nurses about attending to our needs. But, once it grew dark, the shroud of evening came upon us and then we were alone...more alone...a big alone. The word was huge and almost endless in length. I could make out lumpy shapes under the blankets, especially if by a moonlit window. Others might just as well have been the crest of small waves at sea caught here and there by reflected starlight. I coughed my bloody head off. The ward was very dark, so it mattered little if I coughed with my eyes open or closed. There was this terrible dark abyss. One's hearing seemed to be affected by it. It was deadly silent at times. Was there an escape route anywhere? With my eyes closed, I suddenly saw a tint of red. I quickly opened them with hope. Way at the other end of this sea of beds, I saw a nightlight come on at the nurse's station. I knew then how Edison must have felt when he discovered the light bulb! The nurse came on duty and heard my incessant cough. She came gliding over to me with a very small white pill in hand. I swallowed it quickly and this ended my coughing bout forever. Penicillin had made its entry into the field of medicine and this took care of my Pneumonia. I must tell you now that it was not the nurse or the pill of penicillin that gave me my sense of freedom. It was that nightlight.
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