Doodley-dee

I remember when I was first introduced to Kurt Vonnegut. Mr. Guthrie was the common friend between the two of us. He was teaching a course on philosophy or something (no matter the class, he always seems to work abstract thought in, to my delight) in Project Excellence and happened to mention Vonnegut’s short story “Harrison Bergeron.” I believe I was in sixth grade, but years bleed into one another for me. The point is, I was pretty young. I remember thinking, “Kurt Vonnegut? Must be some Russian guy.” Didn’t think much of it. Mr. Guthrie described the story and it sounded interesting, but I hadn’t given it much thought. A couple of months later, my favorite uncle, Daniel, mentioned “Harrison Bergeron,” wondering if I had ever read it. I said no and came out of the subsequent scolding with the impression that I should read it. Uncle Dan would probably deny his ever giving me a sermon on reading “literature with substance” and not that “lateral mystery junk” I was into at the time, but Uncle Dan goes to Confession a lot. He won’t admit it, but he does. I’m onto your “Coffee Bean” code, Uncle Dan. Plus, he’s studying to become a priest, so he has to get all of his lying out now.

Anyway, I thought the story was magnificent the first time I read it. My mind was in a whirl for literally three days after reading it. Okay, maybe not literally, but metaphorically. Sometimes I exaggerate. “Harrison Bergeron” was one of those stories that I always told myself I needed to write the name down so I wouldn’t forget, but never actually did so. Subsequently, I forgot the title and the author’s name. I would describe the story to people, wondering if they had read it and recalled the name, but all I got was blank stares. Apparently, “it was about the preposterousness of equality and the guy’s name was Russian” isn’t much help to some people. Years passed and, with it, the memory of the story. If my love affair with Vonnegut had ended there, it would’ve been a tragedy. Thankfully, it’s not!

Vonnegut popped up again as I was browsing the local Barnes and Noble a year or so ago. I had gift cards left over from Christmas (a miracle!) and was ready to pay full price for a book (another miracle!). T it so happened was listed close to V at that store. I had been looking at Twain books, of course, but was considering expanding my horizons. After all, this was a special occasion. I was going to pay full price for a book. If I’m going halfway out of my usual habit, why not all the way? I was feeling risky—I might even say alive, but I won’t. It was destiny. The first book I picked up by Vonnegut was Player Piano. I looked over the back, mildly interested. There it was, a review that gave my heart to him right away: “Vonnegut’s writing harkens back to the dark humor of Twain.” Or something like that anyway. More grand, probably. I was sold. That book was sold. Everything was sold. It was love at first review that mentioned Twain?

Imagine my delight when I re-discovered “Harrison Bergeron” while looking through the literature textbook over the summer. The story is so quintessentially Vonnegut that I just want to hug it and go, “Aw, Kurt, you’re such a humanist!” “Bergeron” challenges everyday thought with a dark twist of humor and a haunting message, just like most of Vonnegut’s writing.

What I love the most about “Bergeron” is the difference Vonnegut emphasizes between equality and equality of opportunity. Americans tend to call for equality. I argue with my mom about this sometimes. “Mom, no, not total equality. Just equality of opportunity. That’s what America’s about. That’s what the founding father’s meant,” I say. Mom shakes her head and continues about some feminist thing. Probably about the fire department again. See, the fire department has different requirements for women than they do for men. The female requirements are easier. Women have to do fewer pushups and pull-ups and all that kind of stuff to make it into the department. I say this is wrong, unjust. If women want to claim they’re just as good as men in every way, why should the requirements be different? Mom claims this just makes it fair for women. It makes it equal. To me, this is “Harrison Bergeron” in action. We never agree. (756)



I realize this blog is rather disjointed and scattered, but I like to think that it is merely Vonnegut’s influence seeping into my writing, especially since I’ve been reading so much of him lately. I know this blog also didn’t have a whole lot to do with the ideas discussed in class, but I felt it was relevant. Hope you don’t mind. Oh, and I did discover that "Vonnegut" is German-based, not Russian.

So it goes.