Brain Fever

My mother recently described to me a cautionary story her mother once told her while she was going to school in Norway. Far more than a story, it's a window into the temperance of southern Norway in the early fifties. It's a gentle warning to live a life of moderation, to exercise restraint in matters of exertion, and to soothe the rough tangle of thoughts that so often can complicate and inflame the individual's existence.

The story:
There was once a small boy who desired to learn everything. He attended school religiously and worked diligently at his studies. At school, teachers were impressed by his efforts - his careful consideration of classroom lessons, his neatly printed homework, and his shining, well scrubbed face at lunch as he poured over textbook materials. His parents were pleased too, laughing sometimes at the fervency with which he applied himself to lessons, lenient sometimes when he begged to read just one more chapter before bed. This boy, they thought, would go far.

As he grew older, the boy began to feel that the world was passing him by, that in the short time he had been allotted to live his life, there was an infinite amount of things to learn. Though school was pleasant enough for him, lessons accounted for only a small portion of the day, and an even smaller portion of the things there were to know. His work at home completed now well before dark, the boy began to delve into the few books his parents had saved in the dusty recesses of their meager home.

These did not last long, and soon he found himself making weekly journeys to the library, three blocks down, returning home with stacks of hard covered books - in Norwegian, Danish, English, and French, covering everything from Medieval history to contemporary politics and literature. These he consumed far into the night, even after he bade his parents the final "sleep well" of the day.

Soon his parents and others who knew him noted that his complexion had begun to gray. His eyes, once bright and eager, were now swollen and feverish. His hair had taken on a dull, lank quality and his demeanor, though pleasant, was far removed from the happenings of daily life. His mother, thinking at first this was due to the lack of fruit (expensive now at the market) in their diet, regaled him with fresh bananas and apples and grapes, but to no avail. Despite her efforts, his frame began to thin and bow and his face took on a ghostly luminescence.

Go To Page: 1 2

Articles in this Topic    Discussions in this Topic