Jack on the Tracks (17 page)

I didn’t know exactly how to stand. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t know where to look. To my left was a statue of an old man hunched over in agony. To my right was a woman draped in carved robes and carrying a large bowl in her hands. I remembered the statue
The Thinker
with his head leaning forward onto his fist, so I put my pointer finger against my temple, squinted, and tilted my head in thought. I imagined myself frozen in time with my mind focused on some lofty idea. But after a minute I figured I looked more like the dopey Scarecrow from
The Wizard of Oz
than a classical figure deep in thought. I can’t even think nice thoughts about myself, I said. I felt so depressed I sat down on the pedestal with my chin dropped down against my chest.

When I looked up again I spotted two men pushing a small cart as they went about collecting trash from big green cans. That will be my job someday, I thought. It will be a perfect fit for me. I love looking at garbage so much I can make a career out of it.

I took a deep breath and began to think. If I had to make a choice about what kind of person I would be in life, I’d choose to admire what was beautiful and thoughtful and honest, not disgusting and ugly. So how did it happen that I fell into the bad habit of only looking at gross things, thinking mean thoughts, and not always telling the truth? How did I let such awful things happen to me without knowing? It was like there was a hookworm of ugliness gouging out all that was smart and good in my heart and mind.

Something was all mixed up inside me and I wanted it to be straightened out. I had seen that I was one way, when I wanted to be another. That’s what this whole day was all about. It was pointing out that the beautiful things I wanted to love were on a collision course with the gross things I found so attractive. It was up to me to make the right decision about what I wanted, and have the strength to break away from the old, bad habits while getting new ones. I could steer myself away from what I didn’t like and toward what I did like. It was possible.

I closed my eyes and sat as still as a statue. I didn’t move a muscle, but inside me trainloads of screaming thoughts were crisscrossing from my fingertips to my toes. It felt as if the force of those speeding thoughts was just as powerful as the trains roaring through my back yard. And it seemed to me that just as I could be killed by standing in front of a speeding train, I could be killed by standing in the way of a powerful thought.

Now, it was as if two giant trains had raced toward me from different directions. One carried a cargo of beauty, kindness, and truth. The other held only ugliness. The conflict was forcing me to make a choice that would change my life for all the other days before me. But suddenly it was like those old movies where two trains collide, and when the dust settled something new inside me had been created.

I stood up on the pedestal and looked down the line of classical statues. Their noses were chipped. Some were missing arms. Fingers were snapped off. But it didn’t matter. They were still beautiful and always would be. I closed my eyes again and lifted my chin. I stood there feeling the sun shine warmly across my face until the glow of it filled my mind with a golden light. I could have stood there forever.

In the distance, Mrs. Pierre called out, “Snakes and snails and puppy dogs’ tails! Sugar and spice and everything nice! It’s time to go home!
Allez, allez!”

I saw the girl with the big eyes walking from the secret garden toward the driveway. She held a book with her finger between the pages as if a giant clam shell had snapped shut on her.

“Hey,” I yelled out. “Wait up.” As she turned toward me I jumped off the pedestal.

“What were you doing up there?” she asked.

At first I thought it was too embarrassing to tell her what I had been thinking. But then I did. I told her about how my whole day had built up into one important turning point in my life.

“Wow,” she said. “I hope I get a day like that.”

“I don’t think you want a lot of them,” I replied. ‘Just enough to keep you on track.”

“The only thing I learned today was to read in the shade,” she said.

“It all adds up,” I replied. “You’ll see. It all comes together at once and you have to have the guts to do something about it.”

When we reached the driveway kids were showing up from all directions. “Clap, clap,” Mrs. Pierre called out and clapped her hands as if they were cymbals. “The ball is over. Time to go home and become pumpkins again.”

We climbed back into our van and began to edge down the long driveway. I turned and stared at the mansion. It was magnificent. I thought of my house. It tilted to the side just a bit. It was missing shingles. The shutters sagged. I smiled just thinking about it because now it reminded me of all those chipped statues that were so beautiful. I’ll be back, I thought as I stared up into the carved eyes of the giant sea titans holding up the entrance arch. And when I return I’ll look you right in the eye and we’ll see who blinks first.