June 14: Phone Call, Classic Saint Marty, New Cartoon

Got a distressing phone call last night from my sister in the hospital.  She was calling to tell me that she loves me and was tired of being a burden.  Then, she preceded to tell me how she was going to kill herself after she got off the phone with me.

Thank goodness, I was at my parents' house.  I waved my arm, got my other sister's attention, and told her to call the nurses' station.  I kept my sister talking.  I don't even remember what I said to her.  Babbling.  At that point, I'm pretty sure I was babbling.  Anything to keep her distracted.

I heard the nurse come into her room and say something to her.  My sister paused on the phone and said, "Oh, you called in the troops."  She said something else to me that didn't make sense, and then she hung up.

It was a bad night, between phone calls and texts and guilt.  I'm not sure what's wrong with my sister.  The doctors don't know what's wrong with her.  Since my car has been basically out of commission for the past five or six days, I wasn't able to visit her much during the week.  She's had visitors, but she doesn't remember them.

I'm happy to report that, when I saw her this afternoon, she is much improved from last night.  It was almost as if she had no recollection of what transpired.  I brought her strawberry custard, and we actually had a cogent conversation.  In fact, I haven't seen her so upbeat and talkative in months.  This morning, even the doctor noted the improvement.

I hope last night was simply the end of a long period of decline for my sister.  She's got a long recovery ahead of her.  Hopefully, that recovery won't include any more emergency phone calls.

Today's episode of Classic Saint Marty first aired three years ago, during my time with Scrooge and company.

June 14, 2012:  Neglected Grave, Mortal Coil, Last Day

Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.

Most of my disciples can probably guess where this little paragraph occurs in A Christmas Carol.  It is the culmination of the visit of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.  In it, Scrooge is given the unpleasant revelation of his imminent demise.  Judging from all the evidence, Scrooge's death is fast approaching.  Not ten years down the line.  Not five years down the line.  The impression I've always gotten from reading the book is that Scrooge is going to die within a year. 

The main clues for this assumption come from the death of Tiny Tim.  The Ghost of Christmas Present predicts, "If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race...will find him here."  That means that Tiny Tim will be dead within a year.  In the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come stave, Scrooge sees Bob Cratchit mourning over his son's body.  A few scenes later, the paragraph above appears.  That means that Scrooge is already planted in the ground by the time Tiny Tim shuffles off this mortal coil.  Scrooge has less than a year to live at this point in the narrative.

I've posed this scenario to my Good Books students in the past:  if you suddenly heard God's voice in your ear, and God's voice told you, "You will die next Tuesday at 3:17 p.m. EST," what would you do?  The answer I invariably receive is not sit in a classroom with me, talking about Great Expectations or The Grapes of Wrath.  They would be out with their family or girlfriends or boyfriends.  They would spend their remaining time with their kids.  They wouldn't worry about their finances.  In fact, 100% of my students don't even mention money, unless they intend to purchase gifts for loved ones.  That last mortgage payment for J. P. Morgan Chase doesn't even make a blip on the radar.  It doesn't even make the top 100 list of things to do.

Certainly, when Scrooge is faced with the reality of his untimely end, it changes him.  Actually, it scares the shit out of him.  He can no longer go back to his old life and old habits.  He must embrace a different way of thinking and acting.  I know, if I were in the position of knowing my final dance was approaching, I wouldn't be blogging.  I wouldn't be working.  I wouldn't be doing a lot of the things I normally do every day.

That's what makes the difference for Scrooge.  It should make a difference for everybody.  There's no guarantee, when you eat that bowl of Rice Krispies this morning, that you will be around to finish off the box of Rice Krispies tomorrow.  That should make us hug our daughters a little longer.  Enjoy that Milky Way bar a little more.  Listen to those birds singing for a few extra minutes.  I know it would change my day(s) drastically.

Maybe I should live today like it is my last day.  Make choices that really count, that make me happy.

Saint Marty needs to go.  He has a family-size bag of Cheetos and a pan of brownies to eat.

Judgement Day is here.  Grab a spoon.

Confessions of Saint Marty