Now, Who is that Character?

 

Cover of The Giver, Lois Lowery's 1993 Newberry Award winning story

'Who is that character?' That was the question I asked the other day after posting a selfie in a hand-knit Norwegian wool sweater standing in the mist-shrouded forest primeval on the Pilchuck. 

I supplied the answer that I liked to think that my unshorn hair and long, gray beard made me a likeness of the Norse god Oden. Perhaps I only managed to pull the Norwegian wool over my own eyes. To most, I probably look like one of the homeless drifters in the Pacific Northwest.

But then an epiphany! 

Yes, my new identity was sitting right under my nose. Shear happenstance, I had pulled a number of as-of-yet unread books from the shelves in my Texas home and packed them with me in anticipation of many, lonely months living in Washington as I oversaw the building of my new home on our woodland land. My eclectic reading material included a few books from my son's room; assigned reading from his middle school and high school English classes. Included in my haul of reading material was a book unknown to me, The Giver, a dystopian story by Lois Lowery. It had won a Newberry Award and I considered it worth packing  and stacking onto my small reading shelf in my travel trailer.

It only dawned upon me the other day after looking at the cover art that maybe the 'Giver' illustrating the cover bore a close resemblance to me in my current 'woodland wildman', Norse god persona. Not having a practical mirror in my travel trailer home, I took a selfie while holding the book cover next to my visage. It is almost magic, a trick worthy of Oden himself using mighty and magical gifts crafted by mythical Norse dwarves working in the under-realm. In this case, the magical gift I employed was crafted by Samsung.

Who is that character? Or what character have I become as I have lived in isolation for seven months? I think the resemblance is stunning - based on this coincidentally chosen paperback's cover art, I am The Giver; a single, individual living in isolation from society, assigned to hold society's truth and the memories of pain and pleasure in a world where fear, pain, color, delight and love - and choices, have been eliminated from everyone. 

 

 

I once was told that I bore an eery likeness to James Garfield. I now grace the cover of a book as a fictional, wise holder of memories. Now I need somebody to come visit me in my non-fictional isolation so that I may give them the benefit of my memories and stories. For such is the reason for this blog.