I think I’ve already mentioned that America’s foremost movie critic has now become one of its foremost blogger. Roger Ebert has lost the ability to speak (thus ending his TV appearance), but he also has lost his ability to use his mouth to eat and drink. (Apparently he is still able to be fed in some other unnamed way).
So that’s what’s sad about not eating. The loss of dining, not the loss of food. It may be personal, but for, unless I’m alone, it doesn’t involve dinner if it doesn’t involve talking. The food and drink I can do without easily. The jokes, gossip, laughs, arguments and shared memories I miss. Sentences beginning with the words, "Remember that time?" I ran in crowds where anyone was likely to break out in a poetry recitation at any time. Me too. But not me anymore. So yes, it’s sad. Maybe that’s why I enjoy this blog. You don’t realize it, but we’re at dinner right now.
See also Helen Keller’s essay Three Days to See and my essay The Seeing See Little .
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