Certain stories stick with me more than others. I really was captivated with Gary Paulsen's "Stop The Sun."
STOP THE SUN
Gary Paulsen
Terry Erickson was a tall boy; 13, starting to fill out with muscle but still a little awkward. He was on the edge of being a good athlete, which meant a lot to him. He felt it coming too slowly, though, and that bothered him. But what bothered him even more was when his father’s eyes went away. Usually it happened when it didn’t cause any particular trouble. Sometimes during a meal his father’s fork would stop halfway to his mouth, just stop, and there would be a long pause while his eyes went away, far away. After several minutes his mother would reach over and take the fork and put it gently down on his plate, and they would go back to eating - or try to go back to eating - normally.
They knew what caused it. When it first started, Terry had asked his mother in private what it was, what was causing the strange behaviour. ‘It's from the war,’ his mother had said. ‘The doctors at the veterans’ hospital call it the Vietnam syndrome.’
‘Will it go away?’ ‘They don’t know. Sometimes it goes away. Sometimes it doesn't. They are trying to help him. ‘But what happened? What actually caused it?’ ‘I told you, Vietnam’.
‘But there had to be something,’ Terry persisted. ‘Someting made him like that. Not just Vietnam. Billy’s father was there, and he doesn’t act that way.’ ‘That’s enough questions,’ his mother said sternly. ‘He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask. Neither will you. Do you understand?’
‘But, Mom.’ ‘That’s enough.’
And he stopped pushing it. But it bothered him whenever it happened. When something bothered him, he liked to stay with it until he understood it, and he understood no part of this.
Words. His father had trouble, and they gave him words like Vietnam syndrome. He knew almost nothing of the war, and when he tried to find out about it, he kept hitting walls. Once he went to the school library and asked for anything they might have that could help him understand the war and how it affected his father. They gave him a dry history that described French involvement, Communist involvement, American involvement.. But it told him nothing of the war. It was all numbers, cold numbers, and nothing of what had happened. There just didn’t seem to be anything that could help him.
Another time he stayed after class and tried to talk to Mr. Carlson, who taught history. But some part of Terry was embarrassed. He didn’t want to say why he wanted to know about Vietnam, so he couldn’t be specific. ‘What do you want to know about Vietnam, Terry?’ Mr. Carlson had asked. ‘It was a big war.’
Story continued here...
When I read this story, I thought of Trinity. Trinity died from a gun shot wound. He was sixteen and a good friend of my brother-in-law. I remembered how I would dream of running back in time to stop him from drinking and to take him away from the gun. Sometimes, I dream that I find Trinity alive in a snowbank, and I bring him back to show everyone. I wake up, reality hits, and I shed a few tears.
We read this story at the end of the year. It sort of snuck up on me. Next year, we will pay more attention to this selection.
