Art Hill and the Lemon
There is a little story I used to enjoy telling years ago which I only yesterday recalled. I had not thought about this in many years but the relevance within the tale is very poignant in today’s world. I think more and more people speak now about enjoying the small things in their lives and are trying to appreciate simplicity. I used to call this story Art Hill and the Lemon.
My first semester out of high school was at Sonoma State University in 1971. (wow) I was a wide eyed aspiring hippie with no particular agenda but I had a history playing, and an affinity for music. I was taking a music theory class from a middle aged professor named Art Hill. Art was a graceful middle aged gentleman with a full beard and a braid down to his waist. He wore the same thing every day I saw him: a green plaid pendleton shirt over a white button down and green khakis. He made a big impression on my youth as he was articulate, brilliant, and kind. One class he told us about a situation he had recently been in. A friend of his had a teenage son who was becoming increasingly disengaged, unsocial and disinterested in life. His friend asked Art if he could help and spend some time with the boy. Art often reminded me of an ancient philosopher. His first session with the youth Art brought out a lemon which he placed before his subject. Art then asked his friend’s son to describe everything he could about the lemon. The young boy began by stating the obvious; it is yellow, it is round, etc..The session thus ended with the boy assuming he had completed his task. The next week Art returned for another meeting with his pupil and pulled out the same lemon. Again he asked for a description. The young man tried again. How much is there really to say about a lemon? Its lumpy, it smells…..this went on for four of these sessions. Finally, depleted of adjectives or any more to add, the student threw up his hands in perplexed exhaustion. At that point Art took the ubiquitous ball point pen from his breast pocket and drew a small square on the side of the lemon. “Now” he requested, “describe what is just inside this square”.

CARMELA’S CORNER

One facet of our common thinking that I often observe is that our lives are, or should be, lineal with the passage of time. I think this belief is cultural in origin and I suspect that elsewhere in the world one does not find this train of thought so pervasive. I also believe this is a misconception which can be the source of much personal anguish. The lack of substance within the idea that things should always get bigger and better each passing year has been painfully forced into our view as the world economy cracks and sputters. We bring a lot of pain upon ourselves grasping at the notion that our new car should cost more and be “better” than our previous one, or that our stock portfolio should increase each year, or we should get a raise, have a bigger house, or an easier life as time passes. I can not say this way of judging progress is solely an American mind set, but it is certainly common and fundamental in the difficulties we experience accepting events and conditions we don’t care for. I am not so much speaking of simply the materialism that we have come to recognize as a major global ailment. I am trying to address more so the frame of mind that prevents us from seeing what is taking place simply as it is- without the usual judgements influenced by our expectations. Again, not just in relation to “things” getting bigger or better, but coming to terms with the realization that later in life we may feel less certain, steady, or secure as we did when younger despite our plans.



