[The Montana Professor 21.1, Fall 2010 <http://mtprof.msun.edu>]
Robert Pack
Senior Distinguished Professor of the Humanities
UM-Missoula
Elephants also need to dream,
And when one suffers from insomnia,
So Aristotle wrote in his vast work,
"On Animals," painstakingly described,
The cure that will restore him to good health
Can be effected if his shoulders are
"rubbed with warm water, olive oil, and salt."
In his extensive study of the animals,
Amphibians and fish, insects and birds,
Describing how their organs serve their needs,
He claimed the legendary elephant
Exceeded other creatures with "its wit
And its intelligence," though what he meant
By wit is open to our speculation still.
I recently had graduated from
An elite college where I learned all this
And much more that I didn't know—
Delightful as such knowledge was—
How to apply it to my life. Depressed,
I was uncertain whether I should be
A doctor or a lawyer or just make
A lot of money as my uncle had.
My room-mate's family lived on a farm;
They had an empty barn with stalls
That weren't being used. And so I thought,
Before I could collect myself and make
The consequential choice of a career,
I would, still single, unattached,
Indulge myself and thus acquire
A baby elephant, since Aristotle had
Assured me "They are easy tempered and
Domesticated easily."
My plan was that I'd keep him in the barn
All languid summer long, and in the fall
I'd sell him to the zoo up in the Bronx
With an agreement that I'd have
The right to visit him at leisure on
Slow weekends and on holidays.
I need to warn you that this favorite
Remembrance only has begun: unlikely
As it sounds, an ad from Bloomingdales
Appeared in the bland New York Times
Announcing that they'd purchased, and would give
To some deserving zoo, a baby elephant
Whose mother had been shot and killed—
No doubt by hunters poaching ivory—
Just like the elephant of my imagining,
The one I'd always wanted to adopt.
You need to know we get names wrong
In our dyslexic family, and I called Macy's
By mistake, but when they transferred me
To an impatient salesman in
Their stocked department of stuffed toys,
I realized my error and hung up the phone.
And when I next called Bloomingdales,
The manager enquired what zoo
I represented and expressed contempt
When I explained quite simply that
My motive was my love of elephants:
Was that too hard for him to understand?
I had to borrow money, piles of it,
To cover the outrageous asking price,
From my bemused and wealthy uncle with
A bachelor's flair for wild extravagance,
And I was able, you'll be pleased to know,
To outbid the astounded New York zoos
With their tight budgets and constraints.
All summer long my elephant and I
Cavorted in the purple clover field
Or splashed each other in the lily pond;
Ears still, he'd sneak up from behind
And put his trunk between my legs,
Lift up, and tumble me head forward
In the cart wheel spin I had to learn
To play my part in our invented game.
This well might be considered wit, "panting
A sound just like a sighing man," as Aristotle
Had foreseen so many books ago.
So, Aristotle, thanks to you I knew
Just how to rub the shoulders of
My parabolic pachyderm
With the prescribed ingredients
To spare him from such dreams as cause
Insomnia, dread falling dreams of loneliness,
Bereavement, or abandonment.
My laughing gratitude calls out to you,
Dear founding father of philosophy,
Observer with an eye for wonder and
Astonishment, for how detail and fact
And information, tempered with, ah yes!
A touch of delicate embellishment,
Can be recalled to rescue us from gloom
And flourish forth some waking happiness.
[The Montana Professor 21.1, Fall 2010 <http://mtprof.msun.edu>]