Thursday, August 14, 2008

Babar and FU

Most people meet Babar, the French elephant from the children’s books when they are young, but I didn’t meet him till I was much older. My introduction was a gift from a friend when I was going through a bad time. I keep a picture of him on my desk, and especially now, I stop to say, “Thanks, Babar” for his message.

Babar is a survivor. In the first few pages of his story we witness the murder of his mother. It is cruel and sad. But Babar moves from the country to the city where he meets the Old Lady who becomes his mentor. With her guidance he learns to dress well—he’s French after all—in green suit and spats, and he acquires the skill of conversation in the Paris salons. But most importantly Babar moves beyond simply surviving to use his past to become an individual with deep values and strong character.

Babar is a leader. He marries Celeste and has a family. His leads his country, Celesteville and it is a community rich with diversity. The only really bad time comes when Celesteville is burned and Babar had the bad dream. In his dream demons came—hairy winged things named hate, fear, greed. But Babar summoned the spirits of patience and hope and chased the demons out of the country and peace was restored.

Babar is completely comfortable with himself; that’s what recommends him the most. Though he certain of his authority, and wears a crown to prove it, he is not heavy handed nor a workaholic. Babar seems to have the faith to really live one day at a time. (Did he go to therapy? Elephants Anonymous? de Brunhoff doesn’t say.)

Babar inspires. He is honest, he negotiates change, he’s committed to family and country and he sends this overriding message: “Don’t panic”.

I have a Babar. When John and I began living together I gently encouraged their relationship. Babar has traveled with us and he sometimes watches TV. Now that Babar has come to understand John's cancer he sometimes reads poetry and just last week he was sitting on our bed with his trunk in a copy of Susan Sontag’s “Illness as Metaphor.”

Today after John’s Chemo session we came home for the second stage which is wearing the infusion pump with 5-FU—the really wicked chemo agent. John has to wear this pump for two days. I noticed that Babar was a tad anxious. He doesn’t like chemo days either. So today I made Babar his own little infusion pump that he can wear just like John. I made it from a box of wooden matches covered in black paper and it has a strap made of an Hermes store ribbon. (He’s French after all) Now Babar is sitting on the couch with John. Both wearing their chemo pumps with straps jauntily crossing their chests. John has his nose in a book. Babar has his trunk in the air.

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