Harry's Beautiful Brain
The brain surgeon said, “Harry, you’ve had a series of small strokes. If we can compare your brain to an eight-cylinder combustion engine, six of your cylinders have been used up, the last two could blow at any time. It’s a wait and see situation.
“Await and watch situation?”
“I believe it is. You are responding well to our conversation, but the MRI scans show significant scar tissue within the hippocampus and amygdala. The scar tissue is not new; there is enough old scar tissue in the frontal lobes to indicate you’ve been having ongoing small strokes since you were a younger man. There has been continuous cognitive skill disruption, affecting your memory. Harry can you tell me who Albert Einstein is?”
He smiled. “Einstein said humans use 12% of their brains; new brain cells can activated to create new pathways.”
“Look at this area on the MRI, Harry.” (Hhis eyes followed the doctor’s finger). “This section on the left is not damaged. Can you perceive this healthy part of you brain with your mind.” (Harry nodded). “Here on in the center is another good part of the brain. Can you connect those two parts together?” Harry became silently thoughtful. The doctor pointed to an area on the right. “There are no scars in this area. Connect them together if you can.” Harry practiced this exercise several times. That afternoon, smiling and happy, he returned to the nursing home where he would live for the next five years.
In the nursing home his favorite past time was a dictionary game, He remembered how to spell each word, even difficult words, correctly and was delighted with himself. His confidence grew. His walking balance improved, he enjoyed going to restaurants and movies, but reading a book seemed impossible. I became Harry’s reader, He was very much intrigued by the humor of stories from the deep south. His favorite book was The Whole Town Is Talking by Fannie Flagg. He adored a Brer Rabbit tale, “The Smartest Man In the World.” He didn’t remember who actually wrote the story, but he savored the flavor of it. // Five years later late in the afternoon we finished the last page of Fannie Flagg’s book. Harry became very still. I noticed a luminescent glow leaving the center top of his head, a spiraling golden vapor, He said “Goodbye, Miz’ O’Dear.” I said “Goodbye, Harry,” I inhaled his last sweet breath. After he died, I helped clean his closet and found a Hammacher Schlemmer voice-recording tape measure tucked inside one of his shoes. The box said, No self-respecting builder would be caught dead without this twelve foot tape measure which can record 20 seconds of your own voice. I pressed play and Harry’s laughter tumbled out of the speaker.
Harry told me he regularly ordered items from the Hammacher Schlemmer catalogue. One year the catalogue featured an Eames chair covered in baseball mitt leather. The ad said, soothe your neck on the plush headrest, stretch out, curl sideways, swivel back and forth, this chair is luxurious and comfortable no matter how you sit. Another year Hammacher Schlemmer sold him an epilator with the strength of seventy-seven tweezers, advertised as superior to an electric razor, which it was not. His old Gilette worked better. He also ordered angora socks, fluffy genuine hair from rabbits raised in Germany; good for men who suffer from foot mold, thirty dollars a pair. One day Hammacher Schlemmer delivered a set of weatherproof outdoor furniture, a sofa with side tables and two art easels that allowed him to work together in the yard. He created joyful paintings, several of them have been shared with students around the world.
Lizzie Kunde 
Sydney Gay O'dear 