SEIZE THE DAY
41 7
Tamkin kept repeating as they walked down the street that there
were many who were dedicated to suffering. But he told Wilhelm, "I'm
optimistic in your case, and I have seen a world of maladjustment.
There's hope for you. You don't really want to destroy yourself. You're
trying hard to keep your feelings open, Wilhelm. I can see it. Seven
per cent of this country is committing suicide by alcohol. Another three,
maybe, narcotics. Another sixty just fading away into dust by boredom.
Twenty more who have sold their souls to the Devil. Then there's a
small percentage of those who want to live. That's the only significant
thing in the whole world of today. Those are the only two classes of
people there are. Some want to live, but the great majority don't." This
fantastic T amkin began to surpass himself. "They don't. Or else, why
these wars? I'll tell you more," he said. "The love of the dying amounts
to one thing; they want you to die with them. It's because they love you
Make no mistake."
True, true! thought Wilhelm, profoundly moved by these revela–
tions. How does he know these things? How can he be such a jerk, and
even perhaps an operator, swindler, and understand so well what gives?
I believe what he says.
It
simplifies much . . . everything. People are
dropping like flies. I am trying to stay alive and work too hard at it.
That's what's turning my brains. This working hard defeats its own
end. Where should I start over? Let me go back a ways and try again.
Only a few hundred yards separated the cafeteria from the bro–
ker's, and within that short space Wilhelm turned again, in measur–
able degrees, from these wide considerations to the problems of the
moment. The closer he approached to the Market, the more Wilhelm
had to think about money.
They passed the newsreel theater where the ragged shoeshine kids
called after them. The same old bearded man with his bandaged beggar
face and his tiny ragged feet and the old press clipping on his fiddle
case to prove he had once been a concert violinist, pointed his bow
at Wilhelm saying, "You!" Wilhelm went by with worried eyes, bent
on crossing Seventy-second Street. In full tumult the great afternoon
current rared for Columbus Circle where the mouth of midtown stood
open and the skyscrapers gave back the yellow fire of the sun.
As they approached the polished stone front of the new office
building, Dr. Tamkin said, "Well, isn't that old Rappaport by the door?
I think he should carry a white cane, but he will never admit there's
a single thing the matter with his eyes."
Mr. Rappaport did not stand well; his knees were sunk, while his
pelvis only half filled his trousers. His suspenders held them, gaping.
He stopped Wilhelm with an extended hand, having somehow
recognized him. In his deep voice he commanded him, "Take me to
the cigar store."
"You want me .. .? Tamkin!" Wilhelm whispered, "You take him."
Tamkin shook his head. "He wants you. Don't refuse the old
gentleman." Significantly, he said in a lower voice, "This minute is
another instance of the 'here-and-now.' You have to live in this very
