Lost Piece- Beauty or Beast?

8/8/2019 Lost Piece- Beauty or Beast?

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LOST PIECEan undergraduate journal of letters


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an undergraduate journal of lettersLOST PIECE: Issue IIX XS S

Copyright, Lost Piece; All rights reserved.

No part o this journal may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

taping or by any inormation storage retrieval system without the writ-

ten permission o the EditorInChie except in the case o brie quota-

tions embodied in critical articles and reviews. Te works included in

this journal are printed with explicit permission o their authors.

Lost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal o Letters

Te University o Notre Dame

Center or Undergraduate Scholarly Engagement

PRINED IN HE U NIED SAES OF AMERICA


VOLUME I, ISSUE IIBeauty or Beast

J

Stephen LechnerEditor in Chie

Raymond KorsonSupporting Editor

Jose Kuhn

Conor Rogers

Editors


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Table o ContentsLost Piece: Issue II

Something o a Mission StatementFrom the Editors ...................................................................................5

Meet the WritersLost Piece ...............................................................................................6

Beauty?Stephen Lechner .....................................................................................8

Entertainment, Art, Enlightenment

Jose Kuhn..............................................................................................11

A Paradise LostStephen Lechner .....................................................................................21

Everything is BeautiulRaymond Korson ...................................................................................22

Aternoon CofeeAnna OMeara .......................................................................................31

Why We Go to the MoviesConnor Rogers .......................................................................................32

Moral Philosophy in Puppet Shows and Fairy Tales:Te Role o Myth and Childrens Fantasy in Chestertonsand olkiens Beliesess Civantos .........................................................................................37

When I Say I Love You

Raymond Korson ...................................................................................44

Something o a Mission StatementFrom the Editors

Lost Piece exists to acilitate undergraduate reading, discussion,

and writing o an intellectual nature beyond course curricu-

lum and without distraction rom the grade point average.

Lost Piece seeks to help undergraduates to comple-

ment and even uniy what they learn in their classes with

their own personally driven intellectual pursuits.

Te goal o Lost Piece is to combat mediocrity in all

things, and particularly in all things intellectual.

Lost Piece holds that the goods proper to intellec-

tual activity are ends in and o themselves and are to

be sought regardless o whatever recognitions may or

may not be extrinsically attached to such activity.


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Meet the Writers

Tese groups have contrib-

uted to the writing o the Fall2010 Edition o Lost Piece.We encourage you, as anundergraduate, to contribute

your writing to uture edi-tions whether individuallyor as part o any such intel-lectual society. You can send

your writing and eedback to

the editor at [email protected].

D

Te Program of

Liberal Studies:

So it turns out that PLSstudents dont only like to talkabout such trivial things asree will or the meaning olie as approached throughthe lens o certain GreatBooks, but they also like,even need, to engage ideas

wherever they can nd them.Tats why a ew o them gottogether to watch movies everyweek, rst as a social eventand later more as a discussiongroup. Tey like to think theyare staying true to the spirito the word seminar (whichliterally means seedbed) by

holding proound conversa-tions on their own rom whichthey hope to bear the ruits onew ideas, serious dialogue,and lasting riendships.

Istum:

(Also called Tat Ting) Treeyears ago, a group o r iendsdecided to get together every

weekend to start a literarysociety. Its members includestudents rom the Colleges oArts and Letters, Science, andEngineering, but strangelynone rom the college oBusiness. Tey write, simplyput, despite the obvious actthat they are only tyro writ-ers, and they criticize each

others writing as best theycan. One o their goals is tobring back the essay (whichliterally means an attempt)as a orm o writing and asa rhetorical work o art. Tegroup takes its name romone o Ciceros orations.

Te Philosophy Club:Te Philosophy Club is agroup o a ew dozen under-graduates who enjoy arguing,using big words, attempt-ing to answer lies greatquestions, asking morequestions, and arguing.

:

is a group o undergradu-ates who meet together todiscuss issues o importance,ranging rom theology tophilosophy to current issuesin any and all elds. It is acasually structured, sociallyengaging event that welcomesthe opportunity to nd both

common ground and a mul-titude o opinions on topics.And they drink tea, too.

Te Orestes Brownson Council:

As a club, OBC is ocusedon better understanding theCatholic intellectual tradition

and its interaction with phi-losophy, politics, and culture.It takes its name rom theAmerican Catholic politicalthinker who is buried in thecrypt o the Basilica o the Sa-cred Heart, Orestes Brownson.


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Beauty?An Introduction

Stephen LechnerClass o 2011

Editor in Chie

When we rst beganthinking about this journal,I never would have guessedthat the topic o an entireissue would be beauty. Isbeauty really all that interest-ing to a crowd o undergrad-

uates? But apparently it is.I guess thats air though.

Homer, ater all, attributesthe entirety o the rojan

War to a divine conictconcerning beauty. Di-otima, in Platos Symposium,claims that anyone who seesBeauty ace to ace is one

who achieves true immortal-ity. Aristotle listed beautyamong the transcendentals, atitle that only good, truth,and one share. Don Quix-ote embarked on his quirkilyheroic errantry or the sakeo his Dulcinea, the peasant

woman whom he saw as somekind o zenith o beauty.

You will soon read exactly

what John Keats thoughtabout beauty, and, althoughbeauty might be a stretchedtranslation in his case, RobertPiersig holds quality to bethe one, the basic componento all existence in his Ameri-can classic, Zen and the Arto Motorcycle Maintenance.

So beauty is a subject orintellectual discourse, butperhaps a bit abstract? Well,so I thought. But Joeys essayhas a pointwe nd our-selves dealing with beautyall the time, and not at all inan abstract way. Were sur-rounded by entertainment,

and I might add, entertain-ment on which we are pass-ing judgment all the time: TeDark Knightgreat movie!Te Dark Crystalugh!

Hopeully, you will ndthe ollowing pieces helpulin putting this abstract no-tion o beauty into context

within your own lie. Ater

all, were all amiliar with the

airy tales that ess consid-ers in her research paper,and, as Conor points out,

we all do have some par-ticular reason or going tothe movies whether or not

we are aware o this rea-son. Perhaps someday I willunderstand Raymond when

he says everything is beauti-ul, though by the way hespeaks o it, I imagine its allmuch more mysterious thanI yet realize. In any case,Ill stick by my guns on thisone: beauty is something o

which we seem to greatly

lack perception, and I envythose persons who suppos-edly had the capacity orthat perception at one time.

Perhaps by turning toDostoevsky we can nd just

what place beauty enjoys,or should enjoy in our lives,and to this eect I quote

his Demons. For therein anold man, hal mad, cries outhelplessly to thousands o

young revolutionaries, tryingutilely to convince them thatbeauty is not only important,but essential to human lie.

And I proclaim, Stepan romovich shrieked, in the

last extremity o passion, and I proclaim that Shakespeareand Raphael are higher than the emancipation o the sers,

higher than nationality, higher than socialism, higher than

the younger generation, higher than chemistry, higher than

almost all mankind, or they are already the ruit, the real

ruit o all mankind, and maybe the highest ruit there ever

may be! A orm o beauty already achieved, without the

achievement o which I might not even consent to live

Oh, God! he clasped his hands, ten years ago I cried out


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So what do you think? Is

there some beauty thatmakes, as Dostoevskys char-acter suggests, human lie

worth living, without whichall humanity would turninto boorishness? And is itto be ound in our daily lives,or does romovichs chal-lenge to the Nineteenth Cen-

tury Russian way o lie standas a criticism o our own? V

Cited:

Dostoevsky, Fyodor; Demons;rans. Pevear, Richard andVolokhonsky, Larissa, Every-

mans LibraryAlred A. KnopInc. New York, 1994, page 485

in the same way rom a platorm in Petersburg, exactly the

same things and in the same words, and in exactly the same

way they understood nothing, they laughed and hissed,as now; short people, what more do you need in order to

understand? And do you know, do you know that mankind

can live without the Englishman, it can live without Ger-

many, it can live only too well without the Russian man, it

can live without science, without bread, and it only cannot

live without beauty, or then there would be nothing at all

to do in the world! Te whole secret is here, the whole o

history is here! Science itsel would not stand or a min-ute without beautyare you aware o that, you who are

laughing?it would turn into boorishness, you couldnt in-

vent the nail! I will not yield! he cried absurdly in con-

clusion, and banged his st on the table with all his might.

Entertainment, Art, EnlightenmentAn Essay

Jose Kuhn

Class o 2011Program o Liberal Studies

I you walk down Charter-house Street in London lateon a Saturday night, you willnd a long queue o teenag-ers and twenty-somethings intight jeans and trendy jackets,

waiting patiently to handover their 18.00 to get intoFabric. Inside, the deaeningbass will rattle their ribcagesas they dance their heads oater popping some MDA.

Wednesday midmornings,you can barely nd room towalk between the gaggles

o senior citizens shuingthrough the rooms o the Na-tional Gallery. Every day, in

raalgar Square, PiccadillyCircus, or along the embank-ment o the Tames near theLondon Eye, crowds o tour-ists race rom living statuesto church steeples, eager to

ll up their cameras with pic-

tures. Tese are the benetso living in a big cityen-tertainment, art, what peoplecall culture. Tese enter-taining attractions purport tobe able to make us happy. ButI nd it hard to believe thatthe hundreds o people stand-ing in line or ve hours at

the premiere oAlice in Won-derlandjust to see a glimpseo Johnny Depps ace wereany happier because o it.

Tis past semester I studiedabroad in London, and it wasthe rst time I had ever livedin a large, world-class city.From the beginning I was

overwhelmed by the con-stant availability o an almostinnite variety o entertain-ment. On the walk to school,no matter which route I took,I could not help but pass atleast 17 theatres and see atleast 6,000 advertisements,exhorting me to buy cereal


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rom the side o a bus or sexrom the inside o a telephonebooth. But the majority othe ads I saw were or enter-tainmentmusicals, plays,concerts, books, etc. You

would think that people inLondon never have to work.

Just looking at the eventslisted in ime Outm agazine

or one night could give aperson a panic attack. Withso much reedom, how exact-ly is one supposed to choosehow to spend ones time?

As i to mirror the su-perabundance o entertain-ment around me, three omy ve classes last semester

(London Writers, SeeingBritain on Screen, Imageso Britain) were about someorm o the arts, or in other

words, entertainment. I wassaturated with entertain-ment. For example, in oneday o classes I discussed thenovel Oliver wistand theshort story Te Machine

Stops, listened to music romthe opera Lucia di Lammer-moor, and watched the movieBrassed Of!, then went to seePhantom o the Opera withsome riends. But at the endo this day, I was not let witha eeling o pleasant satisac-tion. Filling my entire day

with entertainment only let

me eeling unullled. I wasaced with these naggingquestions: what is the pointo all this art and entertain-ment? Is art just a pretentiousorm o entertainment, meantto amuse us and pass thetime, or is it something more?

Where do you draw the line?

In my PLS Great BooksSeminar last semester, weread and discussed the Penseso Blaise Pascal, a mathema-tician, natural philosopher,and theologian in the 17thcentury. Pascal suggests thatall entertainment is simply anattempt to ward o seriousreection. For this reason,

he says, a king (or any veryrich person) always sur-rounds himsel with objectso enjoyment and attendants

whose only job is to divert theking. But even a king, let tohimsel in his room with nodiversion, will have to con-sider and reect on what heis. And reecting on what he

is, Pascal says, he will realizethat he is not happy, becausehe is certain o nothing. Wehumans cannot comprehendthe innitely big, or theinnitely small; we cannotsee any end to our researchesin outer or inner space, orboth may go on indenitely.

Likewise, we cannot discoverany comorting bit o truthby tracing back a chain ocauses through time, because

we either hit a wall, or ndthe chain goes back orever.

We do not even know whathappens to us ater we die.As Pascal points out, this

ignorance is so miserable

that nothing can comort uswhen we think o it closely.And so, We do not seek thateasy and peaceul lot whichpermits us to think o ourunhappy condition, nor thedangers o war, nor the laboro ofce, but the bustle whichaverts these thoughts o ours,

and amuses us. We humansare restless creatures because

we cannot nd the answers tothe questions that plague us.Hence, the attraction o citylie, where the diversions oentertainment never run out.

Pascal ound the answer tothis inherent dissatisaction

in Christianity. Tis workedor him, but or many otherpeople religion just seems tobe another empty artice,constructed by humans todistract us rom our own ig-norance. So others turn to artas the highest human calling.

What does art have that mere


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entertainment does not? Botho them give us something todo when we are not working;they amuse and delight us;they help us to relax. Teseare all good eects. But art isdierent rom entertainmentin that entertainment divertsus rom reection, whereasart stimulates reection. O

course, this is a very roughdierentiation, and there isgrey area between the twocategories. But think aboutthe dierence between, say,

Jersey Shoreand a Shakespeareplay. Te ormer entertains

you; the latter entertains youandprovokes serious thought.

Tere is a reason why humansburn ewer calories whenthey are watching V than

when they are sleeping: themind is more active in sleep(by dreaming) than it is when

watching V. PerhapsJerseyShorecan provoke seriousthought i you view it witha critical eye, but it is not

intended to do so, whereas aShakespeare play is supposedto be thought-provoking.One denition o art that Ihave heard is that it presentssomething to us as an objecto contemplation. Tat is whya toilet seat in an art exhibitis art, whereas a toilet seatin a bathroom is not art. I

entertainment is mere diver-sion, then according to Pas-cals theory it can never reallymake us happy; it can onlytemporarily distract us romour misery o ignorance. Onthe other hand, art provokesthe mind, stirring it out oits alse sense o relaxation.

According to Pascals theory,wouldnt this simply make usmore miserable, by ocusingour attention on what we donot know? Well, yes, i thatis all that art does. But arthas other powers as well.

What are arts redeeminggraces? Some think it is thebeauty o art, the perec-

tion o the orm itsel. AsJohn Keats wrote, Beautyis truth, truth beautythatis all / Ye know on earth,and all ye need to know.Around the end o the 19thcentury (the n-de-siecleperiod), a movement arosein Britain and America thatattempted to sever art rom

any pedagogical unction,claiming that the value oart was in its own inherentbeauty, regardless o content.

Tis school o thought is stillwidely inuential today, butit has not gone unchallenged.Oscar Wilde was one o themajor proponents o the art

or arts sake movement, buthe seems to have had somereservations about putting toomuch value on art in itsel.For instance, his poem LesBallons seems to be a criti-cism o art that is beautiul

yet empty, symbolized byethereal balloons. Going backurther in time, even Shake-

speare seems to have beentroubled with the apparentutility o a lie spent dedi-cated to art. In Te empest,

which is generally regardedto be Shakespeares last work,Prospero conjures spirits toput on a anciul show orhis daughters wedding, butin the middle o the show

he suddenly grows disturbedand gives this amous speech,

worth quoting in ull:


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Prospero is oten thoughtto embody Shakespearehimsel, or like Shakespeare,he uses his deep knowledge,gleaned rom books, to createa crowd-pleasing play. ButShakespeare/Prospero real-

izes that the play is noth-ing, a mere ight o ancy

to amuse and distract us.He has an existential crisisin the middle o the play

when he is reminded o therailty o our lives and thedarkness o our ignorance.In the epilogue o the play,

Prospero directly addressesthe audience, asking or

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,

As i you were dismayed. Be cheerul, sir.

Our revels now are ended. Tese our actors,

As I oretold you, were all spirits and

Are melted into air, into thin air;

And, like the baseless abric o this vision,

Te cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

Te solemn temples, the great globe itsel,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

And, like this insubstantial pageant aded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuf

As dreams are made on, and our little lie

Is rounded with sleep. Sir, I am vexed.

Bear with my weakness: my old brain is troubled.

Be not disturbed with my inrmity.

I you be pleased, retire into my cell

And there repose. A turn or two I ll walk

o still my beating mind. (Act 4, Scene 1)

them to grant him releaseand orgiveness ater a liespent on enchanting artice.

But i art is merely aninsubstantial pageant, whatshould we put in its stead? Inmy lm class last semester

we watched a movie calledBrassed Of!about a brassband in a struggling coal-

mining town. At the endo the movie, ater the coalmine has been shut down andseveral lives nearly destroyedin the process, the conduc-tor, Danny, gives a rousingspeech that begins: ruthis I thought it matteredIthought the musicmattered.

But does it? Bollocks! Notcompared to how people mat-ter. Art is created by people,so its importance will alwaysbe second to theirs. It ex-presses their joy, their pain,their hopesand i its goodenough, it can turn us backto people, to the real mattero lie. One o art s powers is

its ability to connect peoplethink o how many bonds youhave created with people overa avorite song or book. Butart is a lways considered assubpar to direct experience,to physical reality. Tis hi-erarchy o importance seemsto be ingrained in our mindsintuitively, so that everyone

agrees with it even withoutthinking about it. Tink backon the ondest memories o

your lie, or the most tragic,or the most powerul. Mostlikely they involve your owndirect experienceswith oth-er people, with nature, withGod, with yoursel. Tey are

probably not memories o aplay, a song, or a museum ex-hibit. And one does not evenhave to go to a show or reada book to experience artorliving itsel is a kind o art.

Tis is what Virginia Woolrecognized when she wrotethrough the eyes o Mrs.Dalloway, Such ools we


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areFor Heaven only knowswhy one loves it so, howone sees it so, making it up,building it round one, tum-bling it, creating it every mo-ment aresh; but the veriestrumps, the most dejected omiseries sitting on doorsteps(drink their downall) do thesame; cant be dealt with, she

elt positive, by acts o Par-liament or that very reason:they love lie. Because ev-ery person has this gloriousability to create art, i onlyin the mind, every person is

worthy o the utmost dignity.But although art may beunimportant compared to

humans, in reality art is asinseparable rom human na-ture as thinking. We cannotalways be at physical labor,but when we rest our bod-ies, we cannot completelyrest our minds (although wecan temporarily divert themthrough entertainment). As

long as our minds are active,we always have longings anddesires and questions, and inour leisure time, we expressthese through art. It is artspower o sel-expression thatdraws people together. Butart is not merely a means oexpression; it is also a meanso understanding. Every piece

o entertainment or art thatyou imbibe has an eect onyour brain, or better or orworse, and you can nevergo back to your previousstate again. While your lieis measured in your directexperiences, your reactions tothose experiences and ideas

about them are inormed byworks o art and entertain-ment swirling around in yourmind. Te irony o art is that,

while it is only an imitationo lie, the act o viewing orhearing a work o art is itsela lie experience. When youexperience good art, it raises

questions and sparks yourimagination, which leads youto new and better thoughtsand may even inspire youto create your own art.

Tus, art is a sel-ueling,ever-renewing process.

We are all consumers oentertainment and art, butin addition to being mere

consumers, I urge every-one reading this to try tobe both a criticand an art-ist, in the broadest senseso those words. Do not justpassively receive impres-sions; come up with your own

judgments about the worldaround you. Seek answers to

the unanswered and seem-ingly unanswerable ques-tions raised in your mind byart or experience. Creatingart is an exploratory pro-cess in which you nd outthings about yoursel and the

world that you cant nd outthrough other means, suchas scientic experimentation

or academic research. Teact o creation is a means ogrowing an answer, o grop-ing toward an ever truerapproximation o the answersto our biggest questions. Forthis reason, arts stimulationo reection does not merelyend in misery; it proceeds toprovide possible answers that

quell our dissatisaction, eveni they are merely possible.Pascal, when he wrote aboutthe utility o diversionsin his Penses, was actuallydeveloping an answer to hisdissatisaction by creating a

work o art. And this essay,too, is a work o art, seeking

an answer to a never-endingquestion. Every Monday and

Wednesday last semester, asI mounted to the ourth ooro the ND London Centreor Great Books SeminarIV (my diversion or thoseaternoons), a line rom

Teodore Roethkes poemTe Waking popped into


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my head: Te lowly wormclimbs up a winding stair.Roethkes poem embod-ies what I see as the highestcalling o art, as well as thehighest calling o each andevery one o us. As we travelthrough space and time inour lives, we are all on ourown journeys or truth, jour-

neys that are both individualand interconnected. As Iapproached the bright sky-light at the top o the stairsin London, I always imag-ined it as a sign that, despitemy human ignorance, I wasdrawing closer and closerto the truth. And I believe

that my imaginings werenot completely in vain. V

A Paradise LostA Poem

Stephen Lechner

Class o 2011Istum

Te beauty long ago all men could see

Is nothing now to our poor blinded eyes.

In ages past, mens sights soared high and ree,

While ours are trapped by low and alling skies.

How ar men used to journey by their light;

Now ar men have to journey or their glow.Teir wise men used to study them at night;

We lack their lore and beauty lore would show.

But though we cannot see them, so you say,

Our rockets strong will bring us to their might.

I d rather man would ail to see that day

And children always sing their reachless height.

Tey sing, O twinkle, twinkle little star,

And singing, now I wonder where you are.


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Everything is BeautiulAn Essay

Ray Korson

Class o 2011Istum

One year ago, a group oriends and I engaged in anevening o conversation overa topic that is rarely discussedin modern discourse: Beauty.

You may ask, what kind o

college students are you?Shouldnt you be out drink-ing or something, having agood time? I admit that thisgathering may not have been

your typical undergraduatesocial event, but it was unnonetheless. Our particu-lar discussion turned into a

wildly heated debate, whichinvolved caeinated gesticu-lations and orthright ob-scenities, when the nature obeauty was called into ques-tionspecically, whetherbeauty is inherently objectiveor subjective. At the peako the debate, one individualpulled a om Cruise, jump-

ing up and down excitedly

atop his seat on the couchlike a little hobgoblin indeense o his argument. Tediscussion became unruly,even absurd, as each o itsparticipants bickered aroundeach other with their inde-pendent lines o reasoning.

Te evening ended with theissue hopelessly unresolved,demonstrating only that we

were all missing the markdue to ill-dened terminolo-gies and stubborn biases orour own arguments. Weparted that evening, agree-ing with one thing, however:

beauty is not easily denedand its denition should belet to more capable mindsthat have had more than amere two and a hal years oexposure to higher educa-tion and scholarship. Formy part, I turned rom thatconversation deeply troubled

and highly unsatised. My

riends and I had stumbledupon a topical goldmine oirresistible importance. Teallure o that unsettled debatehas provoked the writing othis essay, which will at-tempt to elaborate and oerinsights on the questionableobjectivity or subjectivityo beauty, arguing, as I did

that ateul evening, thatbeauty is inherently objec-tive. In act, I will purportthat beautymustbe objectivei it is to hold any value at all.

o begin, I wish to call tomind beauty as it is under-stood in modern society. Arandom survey o pedestrians

will point to a wide arrayo objects as being beauti-ul including particularssuch as a Monet painting,a banana-split sundae, the

Willis ower, a aylor Switsong, a harvest moon, a kego Guinness, George Cloo-ney, or a beachside sunset.

Te common understanding

o beauty is that o sensualpleasure, something that pro-

vides delight or the senses.Once in a while, a person willrespond by claiming that thelove o amily and riends,a warm smile, or the git oservice or sacrice is the pin-nacle experience o beauty.Beauty oten is understood,

then, both in tangible andintangible terms, appealing toboth bodily and emotional orspiritual sensuality. Clearly,opinions on what is beauti-ul are widely subjective asthey are based on personalpreerence. Te commondenominator in each instance,

however, is the same: theobject o beautyexists. Wecan see, eel, and hear it in a

variety o ways. We wouldnot be able to do any o thatunless the object which weascribe as beautiul is presentin some orm. By noting thebeauty o an object, we areidentiying an essential qual-


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ity o that object. Beauty isintimately united to its object,and vice versa, because nei-ther can be without the other.In short, beauty is substantial.

o elaborate, allow meto divulge an account thatserves as an analogy or thisinvestigation o beauty. Justthe other day, I witnessed an

elderly couple, seated on abench outside o an ice creamparlor, holding hands and

watching the sunset. I be-came slightly repelled whenthe old man puckered up andkissed his wie with passionbetting that o an inatu-ated, hormonal adolescent.

Te scene was reminiscento a late-night commercialor Cialis or Viagra, whichalways make me cringe, asI would rather not think othat. I turned my attentionback to my root beer oat tocleanse my palette, but I soonound mysel questioningmy reaction. I was not con-

cerned that I did not nd themans wie attractive because,

young and spry as I am, Iwould expect nothing lessthan viewing emales closerto my own age as attractive.No, what bothered me wasthe diferencein my percep-tion o beauty rom that othe animated old-timer. Te

man obviously loves his wieand thinks she is beautiul. Iadmit that, perhaps, in her

younger years it is likely I,too, would have ound herattractive, but at that time Icould not, with honesty, saythat she embodied what Ithink o as beautiul. Tis

realization led me to contem-plate the prospect o my own

wie. When I meet her, sure-ly I will think o her as beau-tiul, but will my appreciationo beauty change as she growsold, wrinkled, and haggard?

Te Beatles, hardly consid-ered philosophical lyricists,ask the same question when

they sing Will you need me,will you still eed me, whenIm 64. Alternately, will Ibegin to appreciate the beautyo older women with agedeatures as well? Will myperception o beauty evolve?I concluded that the changemust occur within mysel, orbeauty itsel cannot change,

but why would I reach sucha conclusion? What isbeauty that it is not subject tochange? My thoughts wereinterrupted when I sud-denly realized thatsimul-taneously with my ramblingmusingsthe old coupleand I were appreciating the

beauty o the samesunset.Ater thinking this inci-

dent over, I realized that theold couple had allen victimto my shallow perception o

what is supposedly beautiul.My initial aversion was trig-gered by the sight o the old

womans wrinkles, the mansbalding scalp, and their own

set o dentures (as ar as I as-sumed) and the aberration otheir aection or each other.I realized aterward, that I

was perceiving beauty rom abiased and supercial pointo view, unconsciously ignor-ing the interior beauty o thecouple. Looking at popularculture, I noticed that our

society praises the beauty oyouth and discourages thelook o old age, implicitlydeeming it as inerior. Terehas been a rise in plasticsurgery and Botox proce-dures and nearly every other

V commercial advertisesa product to stay physically

attractive to others. Youth-ul beauty has been preerredand, thereore, normalizedby the majority. As a result,this perception continuallyostracizes the natural beautyo humans in other stagesin lie. By this same stan-dard o young and beauti-ul I too quickly judged the


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elderly couple and labeledthem instantly as ugly.

Recalling my rash judg-ment and the previouslystated observations o popularculture, I concluded that thisis a collective, though no lesspersonal, problem o society.I realized that I am a prod-uct o a society that presents

beauty as something merelysupercial, skin-deep, i youwill. I cannot hold mysel,or anyone else, accountableor this error, or the pervad-ing orce o societys inu-ence is strong and, or themost part, undetectable. Ido believe, however, that one

can be made accountable ithey come to the same con-clusion that I have, namelythat everything is objectivelybeautiul. We merely have toopen our eyes to see beautyor what it truly is. Forinstance, i I took a momentto break through the soci-etal mentality o supercial

beauty, I would have seen thelong wrinkles that accentu-ated the old womans smile,the callused hands o the oldmans labors, the look o joyin each o their eyes, and thekiss o loves remembrance allas beautiul. I could have seenhow all o that represents,or the couple, lie dedicating

to loving delity and lledwith toil, sorrow, and joy. I Ilooked a little closer, I wouldhave seen the transcendentquality o that scene, and I

would have called it beautiul.My point is simply this:

beauty is there, objectivelypresent, you just cannot see it

right away. We tend to thinko our perception o beautyas purely subjective becauseour vision o it is narrowedand we ail to recognize theobjectivity therein. Withoutseeing its objectivity, you cansee why beauty would appearto be subjective. But beautyis more than an opinion. It

is a reality, and like all oreality, we need to open oureyes in order to appreciate it.

Opening our eyes, in thiscase, implies an expansiono vision. For this, I turnto Saint Tomas Aquinas, agreat inuence on my per-sonal philosophy, or elabora-tion. Aquinas calls beauty

a transcendental propertyo being and describes theappreciation o beauty as aresult o a gited perectiono seeing. Tis conclusion isreached under the assumptionthat all o creation shares theproperty o beauty because itenjoys the same creator, God,

who imparts the attribute obeingto all members o real-ity, which partakes in thetruth, goodness, and beautyo being as such. Tis, per-haps, is where objects attainthe quality o beauty, throughparticipation in reality. Tisis also how all o creationis objectively ounded, be-

cause all shares the propertyo being. Aquinas impliesthat it is up to us to deepenand enhance our vision torecognize the dimension obeauty in all things becauseeverything radiates rom anentityGod--that is perecttruth, perect goodness.

I cannot help relate the

abstract notions o truth andgoodness in my discussion obeauty because I believe theymustshare the same qualityo objectivity as beauty does.

Tink about it: What wouldbe the signicance o truthi there were no objectivestandards or it? Can we not

maintain that two plus twoequals our is a true state-ment? Would that statementmean anything i we couldnot prove it to be true? Tesame can be said or good-ness, or it is not impossibleto distinguish good rom evil.Can we not assert that do-nating money to a charitable


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oundation is good whereasrobbing the same institu-tion is wrong? Would thedecision to rob or donatemean anything i we couldnot distinguish betweenthe two? ruth, beauty,and goodness are all highlyabstract and are, thereore,difcult to grasp at times. It

is important to realize, how-ever, that truth, beauty, andgoodness must all be rootedin objectivity i they are tohold any sort o value. ruthand goodness are terms thatshould be raised in correla-tion with beauty becausethere is truth and goodness

in that which is beautiul. Itdoes not take an Aristotle tosee this. For who grimaces atthe cascading hues o a bril-liant sunset or glowers at thebeaming smile or warm toucho a loved one? Who ailsto delight in the presence obeauty? We may not identiy

this delight as the recogni-tion o the true and the goodin the created world, but wecannot deny that beauty isintrinsically good and true.

Without imposing a phi-losophy, I invite you to con-sider what sort o vision isrequired to see the inherentbeauty in reality. Reer-

ring back to the aectionateelderly couple, I would notdeny that the old man has adeeper sense o appreciationor his wies beauty becausehe possesses the gited vi-sion o her inner beauty. Healone was meant or his wie,and perhaps the vision o her

beauty helped him to real-ize his vocation to marry her.

Tis is not to say that onlook-ers cannot share in the mansappreciation, however, or

we can surely acknowledgethe womans beauty i we

withstand the inclination tojudge beauty with the super-

cial standards o modernsociety. Te appreciation obeauty requires a vision thatrecognizes and subsequentlydisregards the subconsciousimpositions o civilizationto acknowledge the beautythat is objectively present inall things, in ourselves andespecially in others. Tis

requires, rst, an understand-ing o the inherent problemo subjectiying beauty andreserving that quality simplyor the young and beautiulby accepting the truth in thebeauty i all things. Beautyshould not be subjected todiscrimination, nor could it i

it was widely understood thatbeauty is an objective quality.

Tough it may seem, initially,that beauty is merely subjec-tive, it is important to realizethat beauty would be mean-ingless i that were so. Ourcurrent society places heavyemphasis on the authorityo the individual, and some-

times this is or the better.But it is the worst insoar asit leads us to believe that anobject is beautiul because

we say it is soothers maydisagree, but it is beautiulto us, so it is. What we maypotentially ail to recognizeis that an object is beautiulbecause it is and was long be-

ore we ever recognized it assuch. I the quality o beautyis not essentially united toits object, it simply becomesan abstract concept that iscondemned to limbo, unsub-stantiated and bouncing oo the walls o a relativistic

void. Rather, beautys nature

is objective and lies outsideo, yet open and exposed to,subjective human experience.

Seeing the beauty in theordinary requires a super-natural vision, one attainedrom contemplating the sub-lime nature o beauty. Do-ing so will yield a deepenedappreciation o beauty by


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Why We Go to the MoviesAn Essay

Conor Rogers

Class o 2011Program o Liberal Studies

Whether you are a lmbu or someone just look-ing or un on a Friday night,

we all go to the movies. Butew o us have ever stoppedto question why we do so. I

have asked a lot o dierentpeople and I have receivedmany dierent answers.Some people say its a so-cial event like going to ahigh school ootball game.A movie is something yougo to with your riends ona weekend night. But the

dierence between attendinga high school ootball gameand going to the movies isthat the latter involves littleor no conversation. Dur-ing the ootball game, youtalk to each other ater ev-ery play or so. During themovie, you are not giving ascene by scene review to your

riends. What I nd inter-esting is that, ater a movieis over, most people rarelytalk about it or more thana minute or two. Te con-

versation ollowing a movieusually revolves around whatscenes you ound particularlyenjoyable and rarely goesmuch urther. By the time

you and your riends arein the car, you are alreadytalking about somethingelse. Everyone who has evermade the mistake o takingthat special someone to themovies on a rst date real-izes that the movies are notthe best place to socialize.

So what did you spend $10on? Some people say they

want entertainment. Teywant to see explosions, sex, acouple plot twists, and per-haps some clever dialogue.

Tese are the people whoenjoy movies like CasinoRoyaleand Te Dark Knight.Not wanting to think too

much, these people wouldlike to turn o their brainsor a while rom the stresseso their everyday lives. Tereis absolutely nothing wrong

with this. Everyone needsto take a time-out every nowand then rom the natural

worries that come rom theirschoolwork or various person-

al issues. Some people do sovia the entertainment cinema.Other people dislike the

entertainment cinema and saythey want to turn their brainon. Tey go to the cinemabecause they want to see art.

Tese people enjoy mov-ies like Te Fountain andNo

Country or Old Men. Teylike movies that are intellec-tually engaging and requirethem to think about deepissues such as lie and death,love, war, and human nature.

Tese people enjoy analyz-ing movies just as much asthey do watching them. Teyprovide ood or thought,

but also ood or discussion.Sometimes these people willcontinue talking about themovie long ater it is over.

It is not uncommon orsomeone to occupy a middleground between these twopositions. Tey enjoy moviesthat are exciting yet make youthink a little bit likeMemento

or V or Vendetta. Tese arepeople who want the best oboth worlds. Tey want amovie with explosions, yetthey also want intellectualstimulation. V or Vendettahas plenty o action scenes,but it is also a reection onthe role o government. Me-

mento has a mystery plot toldin a unique orm that willkeep the casual moviegoerguessing, but it also makesone think about the nature omemory and objective reality.

But what all these threegroups o people have incommon is that they sharethe same underlying need


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that drives them to the the-ater. When we go to themovies, we sit in the darkand become totally immersedin a new world. Te worriesand ears o our real livesdisappear or the next twohours. Te only emotions wehave are our sympathies andantipathies or the characters

onscreen. rue, they are totalstrangers. We have never seenthem beore and have no idea

what they are going to donext. Tey are oreign to us.

Yet at the same time, theyare so like us. Tey experi-ence happiness, anger, sad-ness, ear awkwardness and

loneliness just like we do.Tey enjoy small victories andsuer major setbacks. Teylaugh and cry and they inviteus to share in their sorrowsand triumphs. In a dark littleroom in the cinema, some-thing magical has happened.

We do not see costumed ac-tors or actresses on the screen

but the hearts and mindso characters. We identiy

with certain characters andwant them to be rewardedwith happiness and we re-ject the values o others andwant them to be punished.

We are driven to go to themovies because we desirean emotional catharsis. We

want to get emotionally in-vested in the plot and charac-ters. Tis emotional invest-ment stirs up a desire to seethings through to the end.

We want to see a charactersworld get complicated, getmore complicated, and then

we want to see it xed. I a

movie is any good, chancesare it will alternate betweenscenes o conict and brieresolution. A character

will ace an obstacle, over-come it, and discover thereis an even bigger obstacleto ace. A good movie willdevelop a rhythm betweenthese scenes, and the term

rhythm is applicable becausewhat a movie does is simi-lar to what a piece o musicdoes. It alternates betweendissonant and consonantchords with a resolution inthe end. Tink o that chordat the end o the song thatresolves everything. (Funact: Tats called the tonic.

Now you can impress all yourriends by sounding smart)We want to see a character

undergo some horrible ordeallike a war, the Holocaust,or personal romantic andnancial troubles and then

we want to see them make itout on the other side. And i

they die, we want to see themdie heroically and tragically.

Teir death involves slow mo-tion and perhaps a sweepingscore courtesy o Hans Zim-mer or Howard Shore. Teirdeath almost always has somehigher meaning. Te herohas sacriced his own lie orthe greater good o country.

Te patient lost to cancer hasinuenced posterity. Maybe

we are attempting to reassureourselves that our own deaths

will not be meaningless.Some people say they like

these death scenes or tragicparts in movies, claimingthey go to the movies or agood cry. What constitutes

a good cry? In a 1964interview, Alred Hitchcockdescribed it as the satisac-tion o temporary pain.Famous or his suspenselms, Hitchcock attenu-ated emotional tension to amaximum, but always ounda way to resolve that tension

by the end o the lm. Andhis audiences loved him orthis. Whether you go to themovies looking or adventure,romance, thrills, shivers, or

just a laugh, we still want anemotional cleansing when

we walk out o that movie.You may disagree with meand think you have a dier-


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ent reason or going to themovies. I that is the case,I welcome such disagree-ment. But I hope that thenext time someone asks you,Wanna go see a movie? you

will stop and think why. V

Moral Philosophy in Puppet Showsand Fairy Tales:

Te Role o Myth and Childrens Fantasy in

Chestertons and olkiens BeliesA Research Paper

ess CivantosClass o 2011Program o Liberal Studies

Catholic journalist andauthor Gilbert Keith Ches-terton never had children ohis own, yet he considered ita compliment when his criticsattempted to insult him bycalling him childish in hishumor and interests. Laterauthor, university proessor,and ellow Catholic J. R. R.

olkien shared Chestertonslove or childrens stories andgames, ocusing much o hisconsiderable intelligence and

writing talent on construct-ing imaginative stories orchildren. Teir shared em-phasis on childlike interestsand airy tale stories was not

merely a passing diversion

but was a notable componento olkiens personal phi-losophy and was absolutelycentral to Chestertons. Bothmen, particularly Chester-

ton, considered their child-hood experiences to be theoundation or their beliesand actions throughout theirlives. An examination otheir writings on the subject,

with special attention paidto Chestertons views ontoy puppet theatres, makesclear that their personalethics emerged largely romthe ethics o Fairyland.

olkiens love or antasystories included not onlychildrens airy tales but alsothe vast spectrum o olklore,especially ancient mythol-

ogy. A glance at a commondictionary will reveal the


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ollowing denitions or theword myth: any inventedstory, idea, or concept, animaginary or ctitious thingor person, or an unprovedor alse collective belie; ascommonly accepted as thesedenitions are, olkien wouldhave revolted rmly againstthem. He considered myths

to be true in a way that istruer than physical reality.His views on the subject arebest dened in a conversa-tion he recorded having withhis close riend and ellowOxord don C.S. Lewis in apoem titledMythopoeia. Teconversation on mythology

ironically began with the trueaccount o Christs Resurrec-tion. Tis conversation clari-ed olkiens own thinkingon the subject and playeda crucial role in Lewis ac-ceptance o Christianity andeventual conversion. Earlyin his study o Christian

belie, Lewis expressed his

conusion about the pur-pose o Christs Crucixionand Resurrection rom thedead. How, he asked, couldsuch a story help modernpeople, except in so ar as[Christs] example could helpus? olkien urged him toconsider the story as Lewis

viewed his beloved pagan

myths that is, to be soinspired and moved by it thatit could become immediatelyrelevant to him. Lewis re-sponded, But myths are lies,even though lies breathedthrough silver. olkiensresponse to this accusation No, they are not is oun-

dational to understanding hisemphasis on mythological,apparently ctional accounts.

According to his own ac-count, olkien at this pointindicated the great trees oMagdalen Grove and ex-plained to Lewis that Youcall a tree a tree, and you

think nothing more o the

word. But it was not a treeuntil someone gave it thatname By so naming thingsand describing them, youare only inventing your ownterms about them. And justas speech is invention aboutobjects and ideas, so myth isinvention about truth. In

olkiens view, even stories

that contain actual error andthat bear no resemblance toliteral reality will contain thetruth o the human experi-ence and will reect in somepart Gods eternal truth. Teinventing o stories allowsman to participate in sub-creation with God. No mat-

ter how misguided an ancientmyth may seem, it begins tolead towards God simply by

virtue o being a human sto-ry. Tis insight is the centreo [olkiens] philosophy as a

writer. For olkien, then, thecreation and telling o airytales, like the practice o an-cient myths, necessarily leads

to awareness o Gods real-ity. Fairy tales are a meanso coming to know and loveGod, allowing mankind toparticipate in Gods creativeact in a way that revealsoundational human truths.

G. K. Chestertons relianceon airy stories to explainhis personal philosophy goes

much arther than olkiensobservation that ctionalstories narrate the basictruths o human existence.

o begin with, Chestertonheld the opinion that hisearly exposure to airy tales,particularly in the orm otoy puppet theatres, shaped

his later views on right andwrong. He held that the les-sons contained in airy tales

were the most noble andhealthy principles, maintain-ing that the things I believedmost [as a child], the thingsI believe most now, are thethings called airy talesFairyland is nothing but the


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sunny country o commonsense. He enumerates theimmense practicality anduniversality o these laws:

Tere is the lesson o Cinderella, which is the same as that o the

Magnicat exaltavit humiles. Tere is the great lesson o Beauty

and the Beast; that a thing must be loved beore it is loveable. Tere

is the terrible lesson o the Sleeping Beauty, which tells how the

human creature was blessed with all birthday gits, yet cursed with

death; and how death also perhaps may be sotened to a sleep.Chesterton recounted how

his earliest childhood mem-ory was a swaggering youngman with a curly moustacheand gold crown crossing amountain chasm, who hap-pened to be about six incheshigh and made o card-board. Tis circumstance,however, did not mean thatthe scene was unreal butmerely that Chesterton sawit through the prosceniumarch o his athers home-made toy theatre. Whateverthe storys objective reality, it

prooundly inuenced Ches-tertons burgeoning principles

and understanding o mo-rality. His early exposure tohis athers antastical storiesled to his conclusion thatairy tales are more thantrue not because they tellus dragons exist, but becausethey tell us dragons can bebeaten. On one level, then,Chesterton was passionateabout airy tales because they

were his earliest orm o mor-al instruction and because he,like olkien, recognized theinherent truths they contain.

Chestertons passion or

airy tales as ormative to hisbelies is only a part o his

reliance on them. He held thealmost radical notion that lieitsel is a kind o airy tale, inthat human beings navigatea mysterious world governedby laws they cannot ullycomprehend. Comparing thereality o human existence tothe orm o most airy tales,he concluded that when we

step into the amily, by theact o being born, we do stepinto a world which is incalcu-lable, into a world which hasits own strange laws, into a

world which could do with-out us, into a world we havenot made. In other words,

when we step into the amily

we step into a airy-tale. InChestertons view, airy talesessentially oer microcosmicportraits o the basic humanexperience, a view shaped byhis early and thorough expo-sure to his athers airy tales.

Te content o his athersstories were only part o their

impact on the young Ches-

terton. Equally importantwas the way in which his a-ther presented them. EdwardChesterton not only gaveGilbert his rst book o airystories, George MacDonaldsTe Princess and the Goblin,but he was also the creator othe toy theatre which ormedthe rst universe Gilbert

discovered. Te traditiono toy theatre perormancesremained important toChesterton throughout hislie. As an adult, Chester-ton regularly held extensivepuppet shows or neighbor-hood children. Chestertonsneighborhood productions

were not merely an outlet orhis boundless creative energy,but also provided a meansor him to share with otherchildren the same enjoyablelessons in moral philosophythat his athers theatre hadgiven him. He consistentlyafrmed that the philoso-

phy o toy theatres is worth


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any ones consideration. Allthe essential morals whichmodern men need to learncould be deduced rom thistoy. Chestertons belie inthe toy theatre as a means omoral instruction has re-cently led to a revival in theuse o toy theatres amongstthose amiliar with Chester-

tons work, notably home-schooling Catholic amilies.Te construction and useo such theatres oers notonly a creative outlet and anopportunity to teach youngchildren basic moral prin-ciples, but also unctions as aorum or discussion between

parents and older children.Chesterton devoted such

time and energy to thesesmall dramas that at agethirty-ve he wrote, Butthough I have worked muchharder at the toy theatrethan I ever worked at anytale or article, I cannot n-

ish it; the work seems too

heavy or me. I have to breako and betake mysel tolighter employments; suchas the biographies o greatmen. Tis somewhat ace-tious description shows thatChesterton shared olkiens

view that airy tales are ameans o sub-creation thatreveals undamental hu-

man truths, and that Ches-terton accordingly elt allthe burden o this task.

Both Chesterton andolkien were men o ex-traordinary intelligence and

vast talent, whose colleaguesrespected them as experts intheir elds, yet both valued

the mythical and antasti-cal stories that shaped theirchildhoods as highly as they

valued their most signicantintellectual contributions.

Teir love or the child-ish world o make-believeand antasy stems rom theirshared belie in mythical

stories as repositories o uni-

versal truth. olkiens inter-ests veered towards ancientmythology, while Chestertonemphasized the colloquialoral tradition o story-tellingthrough his regular use othe toy theatre. Te emphasisthey both place, however, onchildlike interests and airytale stories makes clear that

Fairyland deserves the placethey give it as the rst siteo moral understanding. V

Works Cited

Joseph Pearce, Wisdom and In-nocence: A Lie o G. K. Ches-terton (Dexter, Michigan:Ignatius Press, 2004), 1.

http://dictionary.reer-ence.com/browse/myth

Humphrey Carpenter, J.R.R.olkien: A Biography (NewYork, New York: Houghton Mi-in Company, 2000), 151.

Humphrey Carpenter, J.R.R.olkien: A Biography (NewYork, New York: Houghton Mi-in Company, 2000), 150.

G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (SanFrancisco: Ignatius Press, 1995), 54.

G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (San

Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1995), 55.Joseph Pearce, Wisdom andInnocence: A Lie o G. K.Chesterton (Dexter, Michi-gan: Ignatius Press, 2004), 2

G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (SanFrancisco: Ignatius Press, 1995), 143.

Joseph Pearce, Wisdom andInnocence: A Lie o G. K.Chesterton (Dexter, Michi-

gan: Ignatius Press, 2004),3

Conversation with Strat-ord Caldecott, Research Fel-low at St. Benets Hall, Oxord,and home-schooling parent

G. K. Chesterton, remendousries article (available online)

Carpenter, Humphrey. J.R.R.olkien: A Biography. NewYork, New York: Houghton

Miin Company, 2000.

Chesterton, G. K. Orthodoxy. SanFrancisco: Ignatius Press, 1995.

Pearce, Joseph. Wisdom andInnocence: A Lie o G. K.Chesterton. Dexter, Michi-gan: Ignatius Press, 2004.


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When I Say I Love YouA Story

Raymond KorsonClass o 2011Istum

Sharon ound her eyeswandering uncontrolla-bly. Tey dashed over theplush, green lawn that hadonce glistened in the morn-ing with its thick drops omorning dew suspended

in a thin layer rom eachpointed blade. It used to bemowed and trimmed me-ticulously, and Sharon alwaysound satisaction catch-ing the scent o reshly cutgrass wating and churningin the breeze, but now the

yard stood our inches too

tall. Where is that Collinsboy, she wondered. I dontpay him ten dollars a weekor my lawn to look like this.She would mow it hersel,she told hersel, i her kneesdidnt tremble so. Besides,she would break her back

yanking on that stubborn rip

cord, trying to revive the old,rusted mower. She had triedto start it beore and got itto roar to lie, but only or amoment, beore it sputteredinto a death rattle and died.

Her gaze drited steadilyover to the deck, glanc-ing over her granddaughterdoggy-paddling in the pool,

over to the ivy vines growingwild and inectiously over thelatticed ence lining the pooldeck. Bernard never did likethat weed, she reected, butshe had put up with it or thesake o the occasional owerthat would blossom romthe tangled mess in early

spring. Tere were no owersanymore, but she let it be.

Granma! Granma!Lookatme, lookatme!

Sharon snapped out oher reverie, blinking hereyes hard as i a specko dust had been caughtbeneath her eyelid.

What? What is it?she asked, placing con-cern in her voice.

Watch!Sharon obeyed and

watched as the little girl,standing in the shallow endo the pool, wearing a tightlie vest and a owery one-piece bathing suit, bent down

and shoved her head beneaththe surace o the water, gur-gling loudly while thrashingher arms and legs dramati-cally. She stopped suddenlyand squirmed awkwardlyback on her eet, cough-ing and spitting up water asshe parted soaking locks o

black hair rom her eyes.See? Just like mom-

my taught me!Sharon clapped her hands

politely and smiled. Tatswonderul, Shirley. Youll beswimming in no time, wont

you? Just be careul not toswallow too much water, you

hear? Shirley bobbed her

head ercely and grinnedmischievously with her gap-ing teeth. Sharon thoughtabout the sizeable gap be-tween her own ront teeth.She was so sel-consciousabout looking hideous inpictures that she always kepther lips tightly pressed to-gether whenever she smiled

or a camera. Bernard said hedidnt mind it, thought it wascute, in act. She dismissedhis reassurance, convincedthat he was only butteringher up, but he had mar-ried her anyway. Tat wasorty-three years ago. Sheswore the gap had grown

noticeably larger since then.Only a ew more minutes

now, Shirley. Your mom willbe here soon. Shirley justsmiled without looking upand doused her chest witha pail ull o water instead.

Free again, Sharon al-lowed her eyes to roam,

searching every crevice o


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her once tidy and beauti-ully pruned ower gardenand grimacing at the sight oevery shriveled rose, wiltingdaisy, and blackened petunia.Bernie had always pickedher bouquets o her ownhomegrown owers beorethey blossomed. She scoldedhim, when he did so, but as

soon as he turned away, shepressed them to her chest andbury her nose in them, div-ing into the sweet blend oragrances that barely escapedrom inside the tight, bud-ded petals beore sinkingaltogether into a reverie.

As usual, her eyes came

to rest on Bernard, seatedrigidly in his chair. It wasalways the same. Te same

vacant stare, eyes xed andlost in the distance, a smalltut o silvery-white hairparted tenderly to the side

with a sot brush, sunlightreecting and shining o his

brow rom where hair used to

hang lazily, just barely graz-ing the top o his eyebrowsat the slightest turn o hishead. His hands, the sameones that tightly squeezedher own, smoothed her hair,and ddled with the ring onher nger, clenched the endso his armrests in an eternal,

vise-like grip. He always

had amazing strength in histhick ngers, Sharon mused.He would rap his ngertipsrhythmically on the diningroom tabletop as he sippedon cognac ater dinner, andhis knuckles knocked socondently when he camehome with a bag o grocer-

ies, having orgotten hishouse key once again, butnow they were brittle and

white as they gripped thearmrests tightly as i hold-ing on or dear lie, as i his

wheel chair was about to rollover the brink o a ravine.

Sharon glanced back at the

pool to see Shirley dunking

a naked Ken and scantily-clad Barbie into the depthso the pool. She pulled ahanging lock o grey hairbehind her ear and listened toher breath quicken in short,gasping pants as she help-lessly watched her hand drittoward her husband. Her n-gers ached as i they had been

tearing down a wall o drytar or years, but they nallycame to rest on Bernardsshoulder. He didnt blink.Not even a twitch. No reac-tion. He was completely still.

Where are you? sheasked, retracting her handto her own cheek, eeling

the wrinkles sag beneath itsweight. Who are you?

Every once in a while,Sharon would work herselup to placing her ear againstBernards chest, listeningor his heart, making sureit was still there, beating.

Sharon shuddered away a

hot tear and busied hersel

with her knitting. Her onlydaughter, Katie, was expect-ing a baby boy, and Sharonhad taken it upon hersel tomake the child a matchingassortment o hats, sweat-ers, and socks. It was a newhobby that began with Shir-ley, who was now three anda hal years old. Tree and

a hal. Has it really beenthat long? She asked hersel.She had never seen Bernardsmile as he had when he heldShirley or the rst time,rocking her gently to and roand humming Hush LittleBaby until she ell asleep.

Aaaah! Help! Aaaah!

Sharon jumped up, her eyesrantic and her pulse jumping.She grabbed at her heart andbegan to relax, realizing thatShirley was still playing dolls.Barbie doll was drowning andneeded Ken to save her beorea giant octopus squeezed thelie out o her. Shirley kept

screaming in her play, igno-


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rant o the stir it had caused.Shirley! Sharon shrieked.

Shirley roze in place, theKen doll suspended in themiddle o a heroic dive intothe churning waters. Shecould tell she was in trouble.

Dont scream like that!Ever! You hear? Shirleysimply stood in place with

her mouth slightly agapeand her brow urrowed incurious bewilderment.

I said, do you hear me,girl? Sharon reiterated,raising her voice intenselyand dropping her bottom lipslightly to reveal her bot-tom teeth in a sort o snarl.

Shirley shook her head, butstopped, realizing that sheshould nod her head instead.So she did, in an uninten-tionally exaggerated manner.A tense moment later, Sharonsat down again, still glower-ing as she watched the childrub her leg with a oot under-

water and chew on a ngertip

nervously. Sharon resumedher knitting without another

word and Shirley gingerlybegan playing again. Berniesaw it all. His eyes glistenedas i tears were gatheringinto drops, glazing the sur-ace o his pupils, or maybeit was just the sunlight glim-mering in the hollow space

where his eyes used to see.Stitch. Stitch. Anotherstitch. Te time ticked away

with the even click o theneedles. It took Sharonhal a minute to hear thesound o Shirleys voice andthe small tug o the childs

wet hand on her sleeve.

Yes, yes, what is it, Shir-ley? Te little girl took asmall step back and beganddling with her ngers,as i they would all o a-ter too much inactivity.

Granma, is itlunch time yet?

No, it isnt.

Sharon resumed her knit-

ting and Shirley kept play-ing with her ngers ora long, silent minute.

Im hungry, Shirleyreplied, and Im thirsty, too.Mommy makes me Kool-Aid

when we go to the pool.Well, Im not your moth-

er, Sharon replied, her eyesxed on her stitching, and I

dont make Kool-Aid. Dis-gusting sugar water. Youlljust have to wait or yourmother. Unsatised by thisanswer, Shirley stuck out herbottom lip, crossed her armsas tight as she could aroundher lie jacket, and turned onher heel. She pouted quietly

or a ew minutes by the sideo the pool beore her Barbiedolls caught her attention.She picked them up andstarted brushing their hair

with a small plastic comb.Shirley stopped playing to

concentrate on unbucklingher lie preserver. Shirley

let the jacket on the pool

deck and gathered her dollsin a bundle to take themover to Bernard, who satmotionless and expression-less in his wheelchair. Shirleystarted playing again, usingBernards lap as a platormor her make-believe Bar-bie world. Sharons handsslowed and stopped as she

inquisitively watched Shirleyplay out o the corner o hereye. She wondered i it hurtBernie when Shirley dug thepointed Barbie toes into histhigh as she made them walkand dance. Couldnt he eelit? She wondered i Bernardcould hear Shirley talk-

ing in high and low pitchesto voice dialogue betweenBarbie and Ken as they wenton dates. She wondered iBernard would be scandal-ized and click his tongue i hecould see how Shirley madethe two dolls k iss provoca-tively. Whered she learn to

do that, she questioned.


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Play with me, grandpa,Shirley said, thrusting the

Ken doll hard into Bernardsstomach. Nothing. Shirleytook one o Bernards hands

with both o hers. It washeavy. She managed to draghis hand over onto his lap,letting it plop down lielessly.

Te Ken doll t snuggly into

his big hand, but he couldntclasp it with his thick ngers.Shirley grabbed his ngersand curled them around thedoll but they snapped backinto place, splayed out likethe sti wires o a rake.

Grandpa! You have tohold it. Like this! Shirley

waved her own doll wildlyin ront o Bernards eyes,but they didnt ollow. Shir-ley tried to close his handagain, but it opped openonce again. Shirley growledsotly in rustration. Shepicked up the Ken doll againand climbed up onto Ber-

nies lap, pulling on his shirt

to uncover a patch o whitechest hair. She propped herbony knees against his chestand began patting his cheeks

with sharp slaps, yelling,Grandpa! Hello? Grandpa!

Sharon couldnt take itanymore. She slammed herstitching to the ground andstood up, eyes crossed at the

child who was now tryingto stu the Ken doll orc-ibly into Bernards ront shirtpocket. With surprisingstrength, Sharon grabbedthe girl right under her arm-pit and ripped her rom herperch atop her husband. Shespanked her once. wice.

Harder. And Harder. Nota word was spoken. All othe little girls energy wasocused on the pain, absorb-ing it with tight winces andsharp inhales while Sharonground her teeth together,slapping harder and harder

with more deliberation and

erocity. She stopped sud-

denly and let the child go,who slid pathetically downagainst her leg to the ground.

He cant play! He cant!Cant you see that? Sharonscreamed, shoulders trem-bling, knees quaking. Shirleysobbed pitiully with herhead resting on the deckand a hand rubbing the

red welt on her backside.But he always playswith me, she managed toreply, through lips soaked

with tears and mucus run-ning rom her nose.

No, he cant. He cant!He cant hear you, cant see

you, cant eel you! He cant

even love you! How canyou expect him to play withyou? He doesnt even knowyoure here! It was too much.She had gone overboard,and she knew it. Sharoncould eel hot tears cascad-ing rom her own eyes asshe backed away. She turned

around suddenly to see her

daughter, Katie, staring ather. Teir eyes exchanged

what words could not. Ka-tie grimaced at her mother

with narrowed eyebrows andsquinted eyes as she rushedpast Sharon to console herdaughter, still curled up andsobbing on the paved deck.

Sharon ducked inside the

house. She uncorked an openbottle o cabernet rom theridge, splashed a gener-ous portion into a plasticcup rom the cupboard, andgulped it down greedily. Sheound hersel gasping orbreath when she nished.She set the cup back down

on the counter and wipedher lips with the back o herree hand. Te porch doorsqueaked open and Katie

joined her moments later.Sharons hands leaned heav-ily on the counter, her backacing her daughter. Te twoo them hung like rose pet-

als in the silence, waiting to


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all. Sharon broke the hush.Hows Shirley?

As good as you wouldexpect a child to be a-ter she is thrashed by hergrandmother, Katie replied,breathing heavily. Te si-lence was thick as a block ocheese. Sharon poured herselanother helping o wine.

What was that allabout, anyway? Why didyou hit her? Did she dosomething wrong?

Sharon took another gulpo wine and placed the coldcup against her right temple,shutting her eyes tightly.

No, she didnt. It was

nothing. She was playingwith BernardI overreact-edI dont know. Ive justbeen thinking a lot, andsomething set me o. I cantexplain itI dont know. I

just snapped. Sharon couldhear the oorboards creakas Katie approached her

slowly. A tear dropped rom

her cheek and dripped intoher wine cup as she elt her

daughters arms wrap aroundher waist and head lean upagainst her shoulder blade.

I miss him, too, she said.Its just been so hard,

Katie. I need him. Al-ways have, Sharon replied,squeezing Katies hands. Its

just hard to have him here,so close, yet so ar away.I know. I know.I remember the day he

orgot my name, my ace. Iwas baking a batch o per-simmon cookies. His avorite.He was outside, pruning thehedges with those rusted

shears. I called him inside,but he didnt come. I wentout to him. Called him byname, but he just stood there.I went closer to him. Hestuck the blades out, keep-ing me back. Haha, veryunny, Bernie, I told him,now come on in. Ive got a

treat or you. Who are you,

he asked me. I asked himback. He couldnt tell me.

Oh Momma, Im sorry.Katie held her tighter.

He needs a home, Kate.He needs a home. I canttake it anymore. Im living

with a complete stranger. Icant even take care o himanymore, and I cant a-

ord to pay Jessica anymore.She does a wonderul job,but its just too much.

Its up to you, Mom. Il lhelp you nd a place. I thinkits a good decision. Its re-ally too much or you.

Tank you. Teyembraced quietly as

the tears dried.Do you hear that? Katie

asked, loosening her hold.Hear what?I thought I heard

Shirley scream.Oh, Sharon chuck-

led, shes just playing.Shes been doing that al l

day. Suddenly, both heard

a loud splash in the pooland Shirleys screams,denitely not playing.

Shirley! Katie gasped asshe rushed to the back door.As they threw open the patiodoor, Shirleys sobs grewlouder. Kate and Sharon rozein place, jaws dropped andeyes narrowed in disbelie.

Shirley was shivering withcold and shaking with tearson Bernards lap. Her arms

were slung around his neckand her head was buriedbetween his neck and shoul-der. Bernard was stone-acedas usual. His eyes were xedon some vanishing point in

the distance as i there wasnothing going on at all, nogranddaughter sobbing onhis lap. His arms were xedto their places on the sideo his chair, hands grippingthe armrests tightly. His hair

was wet and clung to his palescalp while drops o water

dripped rom his ears and


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slid down the creases in thewrinkled skin o his neck

like a slide. Droplets rolleddown his ace as well, ol-lowing the long lines in hischeeks that emerged rom thecorners o his eyes, making itlook as i he was crying. He

was wet all over, in act, butor some reason, his clothes

only looked damp as i he hadorgotten to dry himsel be-ore dressing ater a shower.

Shirley? Whats wrong?What happened? Katieasked, drawing near. Shirleygathered hersel, calminghersel enough to reply.

Barbie ell in the wa-

ter, and I couldnt reachher. I ell in, too, andgrandpa saved me!

Oh, honey! Katie tookShirley up in her arms andcaressed her head sotly,grabbing a beach towel that

was slung over a lawn chairto cover her daughter.

Sharon stood, transxed.

She inched closer to Ber-nard, who looked utterly and

catatonically apathetic. Sheknelt down and looked himstraight in the eyes, search-ing, looking, hoping. Shereached out and placed herhand at against his chest,cold and wet. She smiled.

Shirley, she said, stil l

looking at Bernard, I donthave Kool-Aid, but howwould you like some resh,hand-squeezed lemonade?Shirley nodded her ap-proval and her shudderingsobs slowed as she rubs hereyes with her little sts.

Call Jessica, will you,

Katie? Katie nodded andwent inside, rubbing Shir-leys back soothingly.

Sharon took Bernardshand and held it tight, rub-bing his knuckles witha ree thumb. She stoodup, letting his hand slideback into its place.

I love you, she said

sotly, and she kissed himgently on the orehead.

owels. She needed warmtowels to dry him. Sheheaded toward the door butturned around to take anoth-er look at Bernard. From thatangle, she swore she glimpseda corner o a smile stretch-ing and blossoming across

his cheek. It lasted only ora moment beore it collapsedback into a thin, at line. V


29/29



VOLUME I, ISSUE II

Beauty or Beast

Colophon:

Tis journal is compiled entirely rom theworks o undergraduate scholars at

Te University o Notre Dame.

Te editors oLost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal of Lettersare indebted to Dr. Cecilia Lucero or her invaluable assistance on

behal o Te Center or Undergraduate Scholarly Engagement.

Te editors also extend thanks to theUndergraduate Research Opportunity Program,

and the Institute o Scholarship in the Liberal Arts,both o which are directed by Dr. Agustin Fuentes.

Stephen Lechner, Editor in Chie;Raymond Korson, Executive Editor;

Joseph Kuhn and Conor Rogers, Associate Editors

Lost Piece was designed in Adobe InDesign, CS5;

its body copy is set in 13 pt Adobe Caslon Pro.Tis publication was designed by Vu Nguyen.

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Lost Piece- Beauty or Beast?