Parsonism: The Philosophy of Ava. Fed.
The Introduction:
A Man Who Had No Eyes:
by MacKinlay Kantor
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A beggar was coming down the avenue just as Mr. Parsons emerged from his hotel.
He was a blind beggar. carrying the traditional battered cane and thumping his way before him with the cautious, half-furtive effort of the sightless. He was shaggy, thick-necked fellow; his coat was greasy about the lapels and pockets, and his hand splayed over the cane's crook with a futile sort of clinging. he wore a black pouch slung over his shoulder. Apparently he had something to sell.
The air was rich with spring; sun was warm and yellowed on the asphalt. Mr. Parsons standing there in front of his hotel and noting the clack-clack approach of the sightless man, felt a sudden and foolish pity for all blind creatures.
And thought Mr. Parsons, he was very glad to be alive. A few years ago he had been little more than a skilled laborer; now he was successful, respected, admired...Insurance...
And he had done it alone, unaided, struggling beneath handicaps... And he was still young. The blue air of spring, fresh from its memories of windy pools and lush shrubbery, could thrill him with eagerness.
He took a step forward just as the tap-tapping blind man passed him by. Quickly the shabby fellow turned.
"Listen guv'nor. Just a minute of your time."
Mr. Parsons said, "It's late. I have an appointment. Do you want me to give you something."
"I ain't no beggar, guv'nor. You bet I ain't. I got a handy little article here."
- he fumbled until he could press a small object into Mr. Parsons' hand - "That I sell. One buck. Best cigarette lighter made.
Mr. Parsons stood there somewhat annoyed and embarassed. He was a handsome figure, with his immaculate gray suit and gray hat and malacca stick. Of course the man with the cigarette lighters could not see him...
"But I don't smoke," he said.
"Listen. I bet you know plenty people who smoke. Nice little present." wheedled the man. "And mister you would'nt mind helping a poor guy out?" He clung to Mr. Parsons' sleeve.
Mr. Parsons sighed and felt in his vest pocket. He brought two half dollars and pressed them into the man's hand. "Chertainly. I'll help you out. As you say , I can give it to someone. Maybe the elevator boy would -" He hesitated not wishing to be boorish and inquistive even with a blind peddler.
"Have you lost your sight entirely?"
The shabby man pcoketed the two half dollars. "Fourteen years, guv'nor." Then he added with an insane sort of pride: "Westbury, sir. I was one of 'em."
"Westbury," repearted Mr. Parsons. "Ah yes the chemical explosion... the papers haven't mentioned it for years. But at one time it was supposed to be one of the greatest disasters in-"
"They've all forgotten about it." the fellow shifted his feet wearily. "I tell you, guv'nor, a man who was in it don't forget about it. last thing I ever saw was C shop going up in one grand smudge, and that awful gas pouring in at all the busted windows."
Mr. Parsons coughed. But the blindpeddler was caught up with the train of his one dramatic reminiscence. And he was also thinking there was more half dollars in Mr. Parsons' pockedt.
"Just think about it, guv'nor. There was a hundred and eight people killed, about two hundred injured and over fifty of them lost their eyes. Blind as bats-" He groped forward until his dirty hand rested against Mr. Parsons' coat. " I tell you, sir, there was'nt nothing worse than that in the war. If I had lost my eyes in the war , okay. I would have been well taken care of. But I was just a workman, working for what was in it. And I got it. You're so right I got it, while the Capitalists were making their dough! They was all insured, don't worry about that. They-"
"Insured," repeated his listener.
Yes. That's what I sell-"
You want to know how I lost my eyes?" cried the man. "Well here it is!" His words fell with the bitter and studied drama of a story often told, and told for money. "I was there in C shop, last of all the folks rushing out. Out in the air there was a chance, even with buildings exploding right and left. A lot of guys made it safe iut the door and got away. And just when I was about there crawling along between those big vats a guy behind me grabs my leg. He says, ' let me past, you---!' Maybe he was nuts, I dunno. I try to forgive him in my heart, guv'nor. But he was bigger then me. He hauls me back and climbs right over me! Tramples me into the dirt. And he gets out, and I lie there with all that poison gas pouring down on all sides of me, and flame and stuff..."
The beggar swallowed - a studied sob - and stood dumbly expectant. He could imagine the next words: Tough luck, my man. Awfully tough. Now I want you to have....
"And thats the story guv'nor."
The spring wind shrilled past them, damp and quavering.
"Not quite." said Mr. Parsons.
The blind peddler shivered crazily. "Not quite? What you mean, you-?"
"The story is true," Mr. Parsons said, "except that it was the other way around."
"Other way around?" The peddler coraked un-amiably.
"Say, guv'nor-"
"I was in C shop." said Mr. Parsons. "It was the other way around. You were the fellow who hauled back on me and climbed over me. You were bigger than I was, Markwardt."
The blind man stood for a long time, swallowing hoarsely. He gulped: "Parsns. By heaven! By heaven! I thought you-" And then he screamed like a fiend from hell, "Yes. Maybe so. Maybe so. But I'm blind! I'm blind, and you've been standing here let me spoutto you, and laughing at me every minute! I deserve pity! I'm blind!"
People in the street turned to stare at him.
"You got away Parsons, but I'm blind! Do you hear? I'm-"
"Well," said Mr. Parsons, "don't make such a row about it Markwardt.... So am I."
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The actions of Parsons through out his life after the accident in Westbury is what Parsonism is based on.
He could have been a bitter man, and searched for the pity of all the others like Markwardt. But no, he faced his handicaps, and struggled and succeded, he was unaided, and had done it alone, society had not helped him. That is fundamental to Parsonism, you depend upon yourself, and not society to get you through.
However, Parsons does not spit on everyone that is poor and mock them, he takes some pity for the poor fellow and buys the cigarette lighter. However he buys it, he does not give, he buys. That is an important section of Parsonism, a Parsonist does not give, unless he believes that the cause which he is giving to his a higher value then that of his money.
Parsons is also polite and takes the time to talk to the poor fellow and show a little bit of empathy, Parsons could have walked away or ignored him, but he stayed and listened. Another important section of Parsonism is the Empathy that we need to have, a Parsonist can say, "Oh that's horrible I'm so sorry." But he will not give.
Another important part of Parsonism is the fact that Parsons went beyond his blindness, he worked hard and he succeded. That's the fundamental part of Parsonism, the importance of hard work, and having a good work ethic.
Now that you have a firmer understanding of what Paronism is, I'll start going in-depth on more of Parsonism.
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Originally Posted by Mythos
