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Three Days to See Hellen Keller
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited andspecified time to live.Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short astwenty-four hours.But always we were interested in discovering just how thedoomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours .
I speak, of course,of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere ofactivities is strictly delimited .
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similarcircumstances.What events, what experiences, what associations, should wecrowd into those last hours as mortal beings ?
What happiness should we findin reviewing the past , what regrets ?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as ifwe should die tomorrow .
Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the valuesof life.We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor , and a keenness ofappreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constantpanorama of more days and months and years to come .
There are those, ofcourse, who would adopt the epicurean motto of‘Eat , drink, and be merry’ ,but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death .
In stories, the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by somestroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed .
Hebecomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritualvalues.It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do .
Most of us, however, take life for granted.We know that one day we mustdie, but usually we picture that day as far in the future.When we are inbuoyant health, death is all but unimaginable .
We seldom think of it.Thedays stretch out in an endless vista.So we go about our petty tasks, hardlyaware of our listless attitude toward life .
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our facultiesand senses.Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize themanifold blessings that lie in sight.Particularly does this observation apply tothose who have lost sight and hearing in adult life.But those who have neversuffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of theseblessed faculties .
Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily,without concentration and with little appreciation.It is the same old story ofnot being grateful for what we have until we lose it , of not being conscious ofhealth until we are ill .
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being werestricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life .
Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach himthe joys of sound .
Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see .
Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a longwalk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed .“ Nothing inparticular ,”she replied.I might have been incredulous had I not beenaccustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeingsee little .
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through thewoods and see nothing worthy of note ?I who cannot see find hundreds of thingsto interest me through mere touch .I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf.I passmy hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggybark of a pine.In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of abud , the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter s sleep.I feel thedelightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkableconvolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me .
Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song.I am delighted to have the coolwaters of a brook rush through my open fingers.To me a lush carpet of pineneedles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug .
To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action ofwhich streams through my finger tips .
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things.If I can getso much pleasure from mere touch , how much more beauty must be revealed bysight.Yet , those who have eyes apparently see little .
The panorama of colorand action which fills the world is taken for granted.It is human, perhaps, toappreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not , butit is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mereconvenience rather than as a means of adding fullness to life .
If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory coursein“How to Use Your Eyes”.
The professor would try to show his pupils howthey could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed beforethem.He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties .
Ⅰ.About the Author
Helen Keller ( 1880 1968) was an American writer, who proved howlanguage could liberate the blind and the deaf.She overcame her blindness anddeafness and her stories still have implications for every living person .
