by Kenneth M. Kapp<\/p>\n
Kurt Taurn retired years ago. He\u2019d told all his friends when he started college that he had a list of what he wanted in life, calculated the income that would be necessary to achieve those goals, and then planned accordingly. He wasn\u2019t shy about entering into such discussions, sharing his views and methodology, always concluding with a short addendum: \u201cThat\u2019s the way it should be, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
In his high school yearbook, alongside his picture were the editor\u2019s remarks: \u201cIsn\u2019t it true that Kurt likes questions more than girls? He\u2019ll go a long way recursively by not cursing.\u201d There was a single inscription: \u201cIsn\u2019t it ?\u201d A. E.<\/em><\/p>\n The yearbook could be found on his nightstand where, if you were to stand it on its spine, it would flap open to his picture with its inscription. Safe to assume the A.E. was a close friend and that already in high school he had the habit of frequently interjecting \u201cIsn\u2019t it?\u201d at the end of sentences.<\/p>\n And now many years later, in a neighborhood of modest homes and well-maintained yards, Kurt can be found each day walking in a programmed pattern midmorning and after supper. There was a certainty to his gait as if his right foot were laying claim to the sidewalk every time it descended.<\/p>\n A teenager, once challenged, followed him home, returning the next evening and on six successive nights. He reported that Kurt walked out the side door and down the driveway at precisely 6:02 every evening. Then, as if by accident, he met Kurt on one of his walks.<\/p>\n \u201cHi, Mr. Taurn, pleasant evening for a walk. I\u2019m Norm Green; I live around the corner there,\u201d throwing his thumb over his shoulder. Then, not knowing what else to say next, he started to ask if he needed someone to cut his lawn even though he didn\u2019t like mowing lawns.<\/p>\n Kurt was impatient and interrupted. \u201cYes, it\u2019s pleasant this evening, isn\u2019t it. And I prefer to do my own gardening; exercise is good for you, isn\u2019t it.\u201d Then he nodded politely and resumed his walk.<\/p>\n Young Norm brought to mind his own youth, when he decided to study mathematics and computers and had gone to a small engineering college in a neighboring state on a full scholarship.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n His high school guidance counselor, Ms. London, had been helpful. \u201cKurt, you\u2019re quite bright as you know. I\u2019d suggest applying to several schools on this list. I\u2019ve circled a couple of \u2018safe bets\u2019 where you should most definitely be accepted. Reach for a couple of the others. I\u2019m sure we can figure out a financial plan \u2013 loans and scholarships \u2013 to make it happen. There\u2019s always a way.\u201d<\/p>\n Kurt smiled, agreed, \u201cIsn\u2019t it,\u201d but realizing that \u201cIsn\u2019t it\u201d didn\u2019t quite fit the situation, raised his right shoulder a smidgen. As he closed the office door behind him, he reflected that raising his shoulder ever so slightly added a certain gravitas <\/em>to his \u201cIsn\u2019t it.\u201d He made a mental note to use the gesture going forward.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n Ms. London, she was unique. I sent her a card every December for years. She was right, I got a full scholarship. <\/em><\/p>\n Kurt decided to walk to the bike path that bordered the community on its east side. There were plans to link it with others, providing a non-motorized artery all the way to downtown. He blew air through his closed lips producing a \u201cbrrmm\u201d approximating, or so he thought, the opening piano introduction to Schubert\u2019s lieder Der Erlk\u00f6nig and ran his fingers over an imaginary keyboard.<\/p>\n Then she passed. Part of the BIG PLAN, I guess. An enigma \u2013 the plan, not her. Go figure.<\/em><\/p>\n Kurt paused when he came to the corner. He sighed and, remembering what his PT therapist had said, relaxed his shoulders, and rotated first one and then the other in small circles \u2013 clockwise and counterclockwise. He muttered to himself. \u201cI never thought my small smidgens could cause such pain after many years. And really, it\u2019s simple math. If a smidgen is about 1 \u00bd inches, one smidgen per \u201cisn\u2019t it,\u201d and so many of them each day. And eventually my right shoulder ends up \u00bd inch higher than my left and leads the race by \u00be of an inch, causing me to walk slightly lopsided.\u201d He paused and concluded, \u201cI\u2019m sure my shoulder could have climbed Mt. Everest after fifty years!\u201d<\/p>\n He turned onto Emdem Avenue and crossed Central Boulevard, noting a black convertible stopped at the light. He looked around, no one was nearby, and he began to sing, \u201cWer reitet so sp\u00e4t durch Nacht und Wind?\u201d<\/em> He dropped his voice an octave, pretending to be Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, and continued, \u201cEs ist der Vater mit seinem Kind.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Kurt laughed, raised his shoulder a smidge for old time\u2019s sake, and continued his discussion. \u201cA father and his son out for a ride late at night, hmm. So, in German, \u2018Nicht wahr?\u2019<\/em> German for \u201cisn\u2019t it.\u201d Probably must convert to centimeters. <\/em>He continued singing, thinking all the while about his undergraduate days, a combined degree in math and computer science, and a minor in biology.<\/p>\n Elm Street was residential, four-way stop signs at every crossing. He looked both ways, stepped into the street and absently continued, \u201cDen Erlenk\u00f6nig mit Kron’ und Schweif?\u201d<\/em> The Erlking with<\/em> crown and cape. Just like at graduation. <\/em><\/p>\n Kurt paused in front of a house with a wide swarth of colorful flowers bordering the steps leading to the front door. \u201cManch’ bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand.\u201d Life and art, a colorful tapestry woven of coincidence<\/em>. Another cape for my MS graduation, and my advisor suggested going to MIT for my PhD. He gave me a research publication to read. I contacted John Oldfellow, one of the authors. He was part of a new business venture. We talked. He invited me to visit, and the rest is history. Funny, their campus was close to the beach \u2013 the <\/em>Strand in the song!<\/em><\/p>\n Kurt crossed Maple half consciously, his mind skipping back and forth, singing various verses from the lieder. Emdem Avenue climbed as it came to Oak Boulevard and the old right-of-way that was converted to a bike path. He watched as the top of the trees were tussled by the evening breeze. \u201cIn d\u00fcrren Bl\u00e4ttern s\u00e4uselt der Wind.\u201d <\/em>He sang his own translation in a loud voice, \u201cSaucy wind blowing the leaves\u201d and did not hear the rumble of the black convertible speeding down the Boulevard.<\/p>\n Kurt lay on his side, his mouth open, and jumbled words from the song dropped from his bloody lips to the roadway. \u201cMein Vater\u2026 siehst\u2026jetzt fasst er mich an\u2026<\/em>\u201d (my father\u2026 you see\u2026now he\u2019s grabbing me.\u201d He managed a final \u201cnicht wahr<\/em>\u201d before his shoulder shuddered one last time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" by Kenneth M. Kapp Kurt Taurn retired years ago. He\u2019d told all his friends when he started college that he had a list of what he wanted in life, calculated the income that would be necessary to achieve those goals, and then planned accordingly. He wasn\u2019t shy about entering into such discussions, sharing his views […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1872,77],"tags":[1873,1123,1738],"class_list":["post-16231","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-89-90","category-english","tag-egophobia-89-90","tag-english","tag-kenneth-m-kapp"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-4dN","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16231","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=16231"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16231\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16232,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16231\/revisions\/16232"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=16231"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=16231"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=16231"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}