[Evening time, in the backyard, Kat sits on a lawn chair in the foreground, Wilson is heard behind his fence, tuning his collection of sub-Saharan ceremonial lutes.]
Kat: [Coming up to the fence.] Is that you, Wilson? [sonorous twanging from behind the fences comes to a halt.]
Wilson: Why, hi-dee-ho, neighbor Kat. I never expected to see you out here, what with the 90's being over and the sitcom "Home Improvement" surviving as little more than a dim cultural memory.
Kat: I know, I know. I don't think you guys are even on Nick at Nite yet.
Wilson: [Reassuringly] Mmhmm, mmhmm.
Kat: It's just...well, there's so much going on lately, and I don't know what to do.
Wilson: [Approaching the fence, leaving his nose and mouth comically obscured.] What seems to be the trouble, little neighborette? Problems at school? Don't know who to ask to that dance, or how to stand up to that bully?
Kat: No, nothing like that. It's just this thing with my hip. I'm having surgery on Thursday...and I'm a little...scared.
Wilson: Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Legend has it that the elders of the great Morobian tribe of Papua New Guinea would join hands around a fire the night before battle and howl at the sky to exhibit their manly and shameless fear of death. Their adversaries were known for attacking with the tusks of native island boars, introduced to the island by European tradesmen. Nobody likes the threat of evisceration by sharp, pointy objects neighbor Kat.
Kat: I'm not afraid of the surgery itself. I'm afraid that I won't ever feel complete again.
Wilson: Mmhmm...
Kat: Like, right now-- or with everything up until now- I've never really thought there was anything in the world that I would want to do, but be unable to do. I've never run a marathon, for instance, but I always thought that I could, if I ever had the time to train correctly and commit.
Wilson: A-ha...
Kat: Now, after I get this cartilage repaired, or if they have to just take it out, I might be limited. I might not even be able to jog again. Ever.
Wilson: Well, neighbor, as the old saying goes, "whenever fate closes a door, he opens a window."
Kat: I know, I know...and I'm looking forward to trying other sports that are a lot nicer on the joints. Buts that's part of the problem-- I never even knew I was in the room behind that door to begin with. I always really liked running, but I was never very good at it. I mean, if you're going to peak too soon, the peak might as well be a high one. I'm sitting on a molehill here.
Wilson: Interesting cross-idiomization.
Kat: Thanks. But do you see what I'm saying? I feel like I hurt myself doing something that I loved, but that wasn't grand in any other respect-- it didn't help anyone else, and I was bad at it. But it was part of what defined me and the thought that I might never be able to do it again is heart-wrenching sometimes. I don't know. I'm afraid that, when I do start working out again, I could just hurt myself. I'm afraid that I'll always feel broken, or like I could break at any second. And I'm afraid that I'll never stop thinking and obsessing about this one injury all the time.
Wilson: Well, the famous philosopher Descartes...
Kat: Wilson, if you mention any of the Meditations, I will be forced to feed you your own fisherman's hat.
Wilson: You're right. Too aphoristic, even for me.
Kat: [ grunts in agreement]
Wilson: What about "think outside the box?"
Kat: [disappointedly] Really? You did this every week for like, 8 years, and that's your runner up?
Wilson: Would you like to hear the tale of Riki-tiki-tembo-no-sa-rembo...?
Kat: That poor kid who falls down a well in that children's book? Are you crazy?
Wilson: It was a stretch. I was going for the whole "you're falling down your own well of self-generated doubt..." angle.
Kat: Yeah, too far.
Wilson: What about just "slow and steady wins the race?" I think that might work.
Kat: [after a pause.] Wow. I think you're right.
Wilson: Mmhmm...
Kat: Maybe I really do just need to take things one day at a time.
Wilson: I think so, neighbor. I think so.
Kat: And, until then, it's still okay if I act like the Bathrobians of Hamster New Guinea? And grab my fear by the tusks until it's bored with Europeans?
Wilson: In a manner of speaking, neighbor Kat, yes. In a manner of speaking.
Kat: And for the next couple of months I'll just deal with things as they come. Because eventually I can still win my own race. Thanks, Wilson.
Wilson: Anytime, neighbor Kat. Anytime. Welp, I'm off to go practice my bird calls and to dust my collection of authentic aboriginal didgereedoos. Going to a craft fair with Urkel and the two Frasier brothers. Have a nice night, and I hope everything works out.
Kat: 'Night, Wilson.
[Kat looks at her hip, pats it lightly with her hand, and slowly walks toward the house.]
[Scene fades out, and credits roll.]
And thanks to the rest of you, too...for all of the phone calls and visits. In a lot of ways, these past few months really haven't been so bad.
:)
Kat: [Coming up to the fence.] Is that you, Wilson? [sonorous twanging from behind the fences comes to a halt.]
Wilson: Why, hi-dee-ho, neighbor Kat. I never expected to see you out here, what with the 90's being over and the sitcom "Home Improvement" surviving as little more than a dim cultural memory.
Kat: I know, I know. I don't think you guys are even on Nick at Nite yet.
Wilson: [Reassuringly] Mmhmm, mmhmm.
Kat: It's just...well, there's so much going on lately, and I don't know what to do.
Wilson: [Approaching the fence, leaving his nose and mouth comically obscured.] What seems to be the trouble, little neighborette? Problems at school? Don't know who to ask to that dance, or how to stand up to that bully?
Kat: No, nothing like that. It's just this thing with my hip. I'm having surgery on Thursday...and I'm a little...scared.
Wilson: Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Legend has it that the elders of the great Morobian tribe of Papua New Guinea would join hands around a fire the night before battle and howl at the sky to exhibit their manly and shameless fear of death. Their adversaries were known for attacking with the tusks of native island boars, introduced to the island by European tradesmen. Nobody likes the threat of evisceration by sharp, pointy objects neighbor Kat.
Kat: I'm not afraid of the surgery itself. I'm afraid that I won't ever feel complete again.
Wilson: Mmhmm...
Kat: Like, right now-- or with everything up until now- I've never really thought there was anything in the world that I would want to do, but be unable to do. I've never run a marathon, for instance, but I always thought that I could, if I ever had the time to train correctly and commit.
Wilson: A-ha...
Kat: Now, after I get this cartilage repaired, or if they have to just take it out, I might be limited. I might not even be able to jog again. Ever.
Wilson: Well, neighbor, as the old saying goes, "whenever fate closes a door, he opens a window."
Kat: I know, I know...and I'm looking forward to trying other sports that are a lot nicer on the joints. Buts that's part of the problem-- I never even knew I was in the room behind that door to begin with. I always really liked running, but I was never very good at it. I mean, if you're going to peak too soon, the peak might as well be a high one. I'm sitting on a molehill here.
Wilson: Interesting cross-idiomization.
Kat: Thanks. But do you see what I'm saying? I feel like I hurt myself doing something that I loved, but that wasn't grand in any other respect-- it didn't help anyone else, and I was bad at it. But it was part of what defined me and the thought that I might never be able to do it again is heart-wrenching sometimes. I don't know. I'm afraid that, when I do start working out again, I could just hurt myself. I'm afraid that I'll always feel broken, or like I could break at any second. And I'm afraid that I'll never stop thinking and obsessing about this one injury all the time.
Wilson: Well, the famous philosopher Descartes...
Kat: Wilson, if you mention any of the Meditations, I will be forced to feed you your own fisherman's hat.
Wilson: You're right. Too aphoristic, even for me.
Kat: [ grunts in agreement]
Wilson: What about "think outside the box?"
Kat: [disappointedly] Really? You did this every week for like, 8 years, and that's your runner up?
Wilson: Would you like to hear the tale of Riki-tiki-tembo-no-sa-rembo...?
Kat: That poor kid who falls down a well in that children's book? Are you crazy?
Wilson: It was a stretch. I was going for the whole "you're falling down your own well of self-generated doubt..." angle.
Kat: Yeah, too far.
Wilson: What about just "slow and steady wins the race?" I think that might work.
Kat: [after a pause.] Wow. I think you're right.
Wilson: Mmhmm...
Kat: Maybe I really do just need to take things one day at a time.
Wilson: I think so, neighbor. I think so.
Kat: And, until then, it's still okay if I act like the Bathrobians of Hamster New Guinea? And grab my fear by the tusks until it's bored with Europeans?
Wilson: In a manner of speaking, neighbor Kat, yes. In a manner of speaking.
Kat: And for the next couple of months I'll just deal with things as they come. Because eventually I can still win my own race. Thanks, Wilson.
Wilson: Anytime, neighbor Kat. Anytime. Welp, I'm off to go practice my bird calls and to dust my collection of authentic aboriginal didgereedoos. Going to a craft fair with Urkel and the two Frasier brothers. Have a nice night, and I hope everything works out.
Kat: 'Night, Wilson.
[Kat looks at her hip, pats it lightly with her hand, and slowly walks toward the house.]
[Scene fades out, and credits roll.]
And thanks to the rest of you, too...for all of the phone calls and visits. In a lot of ways, these past few months really haven't been so bad.
:)
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