From Up On Frederick's Stone

Frederick the Mouse lived in a family of five field mice. He liked to sunbathe, gaze at the scenery, and ponder the meaning of things. Because he did not gather nuts and seeds and straw with the rest of his family and friends, they looked at him reproachfully. “Frederick, why don’t you work?” they asked. “I am preparing for winter,” he would shyly reply, “gathering sun rays and colors and words.” And they would go back to working like little busy bees. When winter arrived, they crawled into their nest in the stone wall. They ate and shared stories and laughed for a while, until little by little, the rations got smaller, winter grew colder, and no one felt like chatting. But then they remembered what Frederick had said about sun rays and colors and words. “What about your supplies, Frederick?” they asked. Then Frederick climbed up on a stone and opened his mouth.

Herein are supplies for when most of the nuts and berries have been nibbled up, the straw is gone, and the corn is only a memory; for when it is cold in the wall and no one feels like chatting.

A retelling of Frederick, written and illustrated by Leo Lionni.

March 22, 2020

     Being in a spiraling existential depression for three years has opened me in many ways. Long have I been in a conversation desert. Many days my voice opens only for an empty word with a cashier, a question to the professor during lecture, a dark-humored deflection from another grad student, a dishonest exchange with a roommate scurrying in the door in which I don’t tell him about my day as he hastily hits me with a “How-are-you.” Although it has given me time to reflect and change, the prolonged lack of healing connection from family or friends has been sorely painful.