In Picture

When I was younger, I used to have these pictures that were a collection of small images. When I would focus my eyes differently, a Loony-Toon would suddenly pop up. I never really connected this with anything but enjoyment. I used to enjoy drawing. I was never very good at it and at first I would trace the outer lines of various cartoons and then color them in. Eventually I became better at it but I could only draw things that I could see. I could never create a drawing that was any good. I simply liked the act of taking something and putting it onto paper with my own pencil, adding shading and character from my own understanding, thus turning into my subjective view of the picture.

Literature is the same way. We are taking what we are reading and subjectively painting a picture of it. Just like that Loony-Toon pop out image, we see words but if we shift our focus we can see the picture. The previous in-class exercise required us to draw a picture reflecting on the reading of The Things that They Carried. I regretfully did not keep that picture to scan and put onto this post but I will explain it as well as I can.

The picture showed a man seated in an armchair in front of a fire. There is a broken heart over his head. It is day outside the window, sunny and bright. From him comes a picture of a dark night. The grass is tall and a man is seen hiding there. Another man is leaving a small building walking towards a flying bullet coming from the man in the grass. Behind the building stands another man with a whole heart over his head. The third seen is a grassy plain with a bright sun and a blue, cloudless sky.

My question was this, “Can any of these men ever gain relief from the guilt or horrors that followed them after a time as Vietnam?”