It is my hope that all of you grammarians who read these essays will be aware of the fact that I really said “falling” not “falling down.”  I have observed over this long life that things do not fall up.  The fact is that they fall in a downward fashion.  And so this lecture will have to do with my record of falling.  Under ordinary circumstances, I do not like to make my adventures the topic of these essays.  But in this case, I think it is of the common good particularly as men and women age that I should embark on a course on falling.  I have had a bit of experience in this area.
I have written more than 720 essays at this desk and I have never used the term “lecture.”  It is widely known that I have no academic credentials to present a lecture except for one instance.  On a tour of northern Israel, my great and good friend Ariyeh Ron and I stopped at the commissary at the University of Haifa, Israel to enjoy some orange juice.  While there, Ariyeh introduced me to an administrator of the university.  He showed us through many of the departments of the school.  At the conclusion the administrator announced to us that henceforth we could introduce ourselves as “having been through the University of Haifa.”  So it is on that basis that I presume to lecture you about the art/science of falling.
There is a famous physician who works for the Summit Medical Group here in New Jersey who has delivered perhaps two lectures to me on the highly desirable subject of avoiding falls.  I like Dr. Alterman who delivered the warnings, but I did not find much help in trying to avoid falling.  But in any case I like Dr. Lloyd Alterman and I expect that when I fall he will console me.
As all of us age, it means we get weaker in the legs and our eyesight is not as strong as it used to be.  Over the past seven years since I have been blind, I have calculated that I have fallen on perhaps 14 occasions.  For better or worse, that makes it two per year.
The falls are distributed among a number of reasons.  For example, I used to take out the garbage to the street on two days.  This meant that I had to retrieve the garbage can on another two days.  When the driveway was constructed, there were gradations in the pavement to bar the entry of rainwater into the garage.  In the early days I could see the gradations in the asphalt and I was aware that I was going uphill or downhill.  When I was no longer able to see changes in the level of the asphalt, I have tripped.
There was an occasion a year or so ago when my feet got tangled up in my own kitchen, which resulted in a fall.  In this case, the fall was toward the refrigerator.  Fortunately the refrigerator door was closed, so I hit my head on the exterior portions of the refrigerator.  I made a small dent in the surface of the refrigerator which was a conversation piece for six months or so.
Finally, to make this lecture short, the third item has to do with missing the seats of chairs.  For all of those of you who say, “How can you miss the seat of a chair?” I will guarantee you that it is quite easy.  At the moment, in my latest fall, I am nursing a leg which has been giving me trouble as a result of falling, having missed the seat of a chair.
So there you have tripping, getting your feet mixed up as in the kitchen of my house here, and thirdly the missing of seats to sit on.  If I can impart some piece of wisdom to you about falling, it is that having your body in a relaxed condition is better than having rigidity throughout your body.  And as you begin to fall, it seems in my case to take a bit of time for the fall to be completed.  When the fall starts, it is obvious that the arms should reach out to catch something to break the fall. If there is nothing to grab onto, the arms should be next to the body.   Finally, it has been my habit to say, “Oh, God damn it!”  I am quite certain that my expression of annoyance at the fall has prevented me from having much more serious consequences.
Until about a year or 18 months ago, I always took the garbage to the street.  The neighbors and the garbage collectors knew that I had no eyesight at all.  They have been uniformly generous in assisting me in any way they can.  There is one garbage collector named Louie who grabbed my two cans and took them back to the rear entrance to the garage.  He is a wonderful fellow.  That did not prevent the township of Millburn from contracting out the collection of garbage.  These new people are doing the best they can, I assume, but I still prefer Louie and his cohorts of Millburn collecting our garbage.
So that is my lecture on the art/science of falling.  In my own case, I am blind.  I would not recommend that to anyone as a means of realizing the full benefits of the lecture that I have finished.  I suppose that more than anything else, falling must come with the territory as we age.  Our limbs get less strong and eyesight does not improve with age.  Philosophically we are left to say that in old age, falls come with the territory.
I realize that this philosophy probably is at variance with the title of this essay having to do with the art and the science of falling.  That is quite all right if you always remember to say, as you lie there on your back after the fall, “Oh, God damn it!”  That expression always lessens the severity of the fall and in most cases it makes the fallen person feel better.
So at this time, I have delivered nearly all I know about the art/science of falling.  If one wishes to avoid falling in every circumstance, it would require sort of a coddled existence.  It used to be when I was a child that falling was part of playing.  But – and this will come as no surprise to most of my readers – I am no longer a child.  So on this Sunday morning as I nurse my left leg back into good health, it is Dr. Lloyd Alterman’s view that we should all avoid falling.  What a wonderful world it would be if that were the case.
 
 
E. E. CARR
December 30, 2012
Essay 728
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Kevin’s commentary: See, this essay makes me feel a little bit silly. Most of my recent experiences with falling have come as a direct consequence of strapping slippery oblong pieces of fiberglass to my feet and attempting to slide down a mountain. Moreover I have done so with the guiding philosophy of “if you’re not falling, you’re not doing it right” which guides most skiers. This basic idea, that if one is not falling regularly then he is not being adventurous enough, would seem to suggest that Pop leads a very bold life.
On the other hand, even in skiing I subscribe to the idea that cursing wildly as one is falling generally softens the blow. As I read Pop’s words of wisdom on this subject I was forced to think of my mother, who throughout my childhood would think of situations where X phrase was necessary for Y result to happen. For instance, if one drove through a tunnel, and one did not say “ibbledy bibbledy yib yib yib” then the tunnel would go on forever. Similarly, if one is falling and refrains from saying “oh God dammit” then one sustains more damage from the fall.
Runs in the family, I guess.