Group portrait with pear
The past seems to have disappeared forever. As each day passes, the picture of Medina gets blurrier. The Ark’s animals invent stories of what life was like in Medina. They question Noah’s wisdom and judgment. “Can we count on Noah as our leader?” That question is no longer whispered. Time creeps forward, never backward. The only constant is the never-ending storm at sea.
What do the animals do while waiting for landfall? Some of the Ark’s animals gather in the dining room/game room on Monday afternoon at 3:00. They have gotten used to the bobbing, weaving, and rocking of the Ark and can concentrate on a game they call ‘Minds in Play’. Each week, they choose a theme that can be an idea, a dream, or an object, and then make up a little story, a song, or even a dance step about what comes to mind thinking about that theme. They come up with stories that invariably express who they are.
This week’s theme was simple, almost a joke. ‘What does the pear on the table make you think of?’ Before they started writing, they engaged in some low-brow gossip.
The Near-Sighted Llama asked, “Well, fellow beasties, does Noah look like he is more with it? Do you think he is regaining his footing?
The Bellow Spiker laughed, “That is such a funny term, regaining footing as a stand-in for getting it together, whatever that is. Language has so many quirky terms like that. And how about ‘waiting with baited or is it bated breath’. Is the term bated breath close to bad breath, and what if you are winded?
The other animals ignored the Bellow Spiker as he sat chuckling to himself. The Green Spear Spotter pipped up (pipped up, ha ha). “Let’s get cracking (cracking what). We all have a half an hour to write about “A pear”.
Half an hour later, they sat around and listened to each of their pear stories. Here is a synopsis of their stories
Riveted thumper wrote: Looking at the pear brought me back in time and place. The last time I arrived in Vienna from a trip to the Urals, I had dinner at the Spätzle just inside the Ring. For dessert, I had a poached pear served in heavy, sweetened cream. Unforgettable. As I sat there wondering if I should also have an espresso, I asked myself, is a pear an apple? Well, no, but kind of yes since the pear is a member of the plant family Rosaceae, sub-family pomoideae. Apples, pears, nashi, and quince are also part of the family. Different types of pears come in different colors: Bartlett, Comice, Asian, Bosc, and Liminera. When I get back home, I will search for the history of the pear, where it was first cultivated, and the festivals created to honor the pear harvest.
Bellow Spiker wrote: I sit here and look at the pear all by itself. I can see the pear wishing to be with others, even with grapes, oh no. Now I see the pear slowly lifting off the table, up into milky early morning light, twirling and floating, a pear kite in the low sky. It flies, tumbling and mumbling towards the hills on the horizon, turns, and now it is getting tired. The pear is waiting to come back to rest on the table. Suddenly, a hand reaches down, grabs the pear, and gobbles it, so that’s it. No more pear.
Full-breasted Humac bird wrote: I can relate to the pear in several ways. The pear I am looking at brings me to my relationship with my first pear ever. That pear was waiting for me, pining for me. I stared at the pear and wished I could renew that time with my first pear. The pear and I are sitting, staring at one another, being here together. Being together with the pear is what matters.
Green spear spotter wrote: Pears are a difficult crop to manage. Growing and harvesting pears is very labor-intensive. Working pear orchids requires skills that machines can’t duplicate. I like to eat pears but don’t think pear production is profitable. It is not as efficient or cost-effective a crop as corn and soybeans. I empathize with those who choose to make a pear orchid a profitable venture. However, if I am in charge of a pear production, I will make sure that it is successful. I take pride in what I do.
The Purple Beaked Goose Gobbler wrote: One pear. There are so many of us. How can we share one pear? One slice each? Perhaps. But that would be a taste tease. Maybe we should wait until we have more fruit collected. Also, drawing pears is not as satisfying as eating them. I love the taste of pear juice in my mouth. I can’t enjoy the pear with all of you left pearless. I want you to enjoy a pear with me. One pear. What a shame.
The Near-Sighted Llama wrote: The pear I see has such a beautiful shape. Its skin is natural, nothing flimsy about it. I like the feeling that it leaves in my hand. Holding it makes me feel peaceful, at ease. I lift the pear and sniff its fragrance. I take a deep breath, then another, and then put the pear back down on the table. I look at it and am carried away by its beauty.
After reading the completed stories, everyone in the group thought they knew who wrote each of the pear stories.
Each Monday afternoon was a chance to make believe about one thing or another. The animals kept discovering something new about each other. Often, they were surprised by what they learned about who they were. Regardless of what stories they wrote and shared and what they told each other about who they were, they remained a mystery even to themselves.