I have recently been in discussion with some young adults, college graduates, and they all make me feel kind of ancient. Some of them knew Sergeant Pepper. Nobody had a clue what "ring around the collar" meant, or "Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz" or what Mr. Whipple didn't want you to squeeze. And, it's my guess that most likely they never heard of Simon & Garfunkel either. Well, they may have an excuse for the last one. I mean, honestly, when did Paul Simon last have a hit? And, Art Garfunkel is probably most famous for how his career disappeared when the duo broke up. But, I remember them for "The Sounds of Silence", "The Boxer", "Slip Slidin' Away" and "I Am a Rock". If you look up the lyrics, none or them were too happy. So, maybe these young people aren't missing so much after all? Then again, I know what they are probably listening to today. I'll stick with the classics.
But, all this got me to thinking. What on earth does "Garfunkel" mean. Seriously, of all the names anyone could select, why would anyone want to be the first Mr. Garfunkel? And, why would the first Mr. Simon want a name that could just as easily be a first name or a last name? I know all about that confusion. I had to look up the names.
Most references for Simon go back to the twelve apostles of Jesus. The disciple Simon was also called Peter, "the Rock". The name Simon comes from Hebrew and means "listen". It's my guess that Paul Simon didn't "simon" to his singing partner Garfunkel. I've always heard they hated each other. You aren't listening to the other person's point of view when you're too busy hating on him. Of course, Paul may have simply preferred the Greek meaning of Simon which translates as "flat-nosed".
And then, there is Garfunkel.
It comes from Yiddish for "carbuncle". I've heard of the word, never knew the definition, and looked it up. Now, I wish I never had. It's a collection of pus filled boils that are somehow connected under the skin. Now, I'm perfectly willing to tell people that Phillip means "lover of horses" even though I don't care one whinny about them. But, I'd never tell anyone what Garfunkel means if it were my name. Never. I know it's not safe to say never. But, never! Fortunately, thankfully for Art, it also refers to red granite. And, since that folk music duo came and went, the term "Garfunkel" has a few additional meanings. It means the friendlier, more out-going person in a duo. It also means to tag along, like someone unnecessary (at least to Paul Simon). And, sadly, it also means to disappear mysteriously, like Art's career.
I found it most interesting, among all this trivia, that both of their names had something to do with a rock. Perhaps that is what moved them to write the lyrics, "I am a rock; I am an island." In my mind, they are some of the dumber lyrics ever written. Okay, they wrote, "a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries". Nobody wants to get hurt. I get that. And, if you get hurt, you might pull away for a while. But, the lyrics don't say, "Sometimes, to protect myself, I am a rock so I won't get hurt. But, it's only temporary". When in high school, they probably didn't listen to their English teacher quoting John Donne. (If my English teacher gave the same speech, I didn't listen or remember either. That class was a good time to be a rock - or block - head.) Anyway, in 1624, Donne first penned these words:
No man is an island entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
Okay, I agree, this is a really long introduction to get to my point. John Donne was right. No man is an island. Nobody should strive for that. Forget about being a hermit. It's not what we were created to do. It is not God's plan. We need community. We have to rely on others. There are some burdens that you just can't bare alone. There are times when we all need help. Even Gilligan had several other castaways.
You can't do it all alone.
This became ever so abundantly clear to me recently. My legs have been mildly swollen for a very long time. I can't remember when I last wore regular socks. I always wear white anklets. But, things took a turn for the worse this winter. My feet, ankles and calves have been extremely swollen. I turned to compression socks for relief. If you've never worn them before, you have no idea. They are next to impossible to pull up over your feet. They do the job for a while, but even they stop their effectiveness eventually.
This should have been enough. Who needs any more problems than this? Not me, but I got it. In May, I had an introduction to tendonitis and the foot doctor also said I had plantar fasciitis. I went on steroids and anti-inflammatory medication for months. If I tried to wean myself off them, as instructed by the doctor, the inflammation flared back and I couldn't walk.
And, then, August rolled around.
Things took a turn for the worse. You know it's worse when you can't walk. And, that's where I found myself. Both feet swelled up, the tendonitis inflamed and both ankles were in pain. I couldn't walk. The first day, I had to crawl around my home. And, I'm still puzzled how babies do that so well. The carpet hurt my knees. I tried tying T-shirts or towels around my knees to crawl. That didn't work. Success, if you can call it that, came when I realized I could put each knee inside a cat bed and crawl around my home. And, fortunately, two different neighbors contacted me the next day. I knew this was no time to be an island. When I was asked, "How are you doing?", I told the truth. Yes, forget you, Simon & Garfunkel. I am not a rock. I am not an island.
There is little you can do when you cannot walk and every movement of an ankle is painful. I moved into my bed for the next three weeks. Eventually, I had access to a wheelchair, but getting in and out of it was strenuous. I fell more than once. And, to make things worse that should never be worse, I pulled some muscles in my lower back. That did it! I confined myself exclusively to bed until that healed.
My landmarks in the healing process mostly revolved around trips to the bathroom. It doesn't matter if you cannot move and nobody is there to help you. When you have to go to the bathroom, you have to go. To accomplish that task, I had to stand and walk on legs and feet that screamed not to be used that way. It was agony. And, it was my lowest point. After falling from my wheelchair, again, I finally collapsed back in bed. I feared this might be a permanent situation. There were not so many good thoughts swirling around my mind. Thankfully, I fell asleep.
After a few more days exclusively in bed, the next landmark, also centered around a bathroom event, brightened my life when I realized I could stand on my left foot without any pain. It made getting in and out of the wheelchair much easier. There was no longer complete darkness and utter despair in this whole situation. This was my first sign of improvement.
The next landmark, on the next bathroom visit, was when I realized I could stand on both feet.
Of course, there were several trips to the doctor's office throughout this. Again, this is no time to be an island. Sometimes a neighbor, sometimes a brother drove me. But after one trip, I decided I was in no mood to crawl from the car to the garage door. I felt strong enough to walk. And, I successfully managed the ten steps from the car to the garage door. Then, I crawled upstairs to my wheelchair and rolled my way to bed for a well deserved, and exhausted, two hour nap.
I consider that last hurdle, actually walking, to be the final one to cross before complete recovery. There are still things that I need help with around the home, but I can do more and more each day, before collapsing for another nap.
Simon and Garfunkel had most of their success in the mid-sixties to early seventies. While they were fading in popularity, another singer from Hawaii began to edge her way onto center stage in the early seventies. And, I'm happy to say that Bette Midler is still alive and kickin', belting out hits to her fans. I'm always partial to one of her earliest songs. Simon & Garfunkel likely disagree with her, and you may never have heard the song before, but Bette and I agree that, "You've Got to Have Friends!"
So. I want to thank my friends and family who have helped me through the recovery process -- Pat, Janice & Tim, Mark & Bubbles, Phyllis & Jim, and Gary.
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