Useless

“Useless”

The bike I pulled out of the junk pile was broken. The frame was bent. The dropouts were twisted. The wheels frozen in place.  This bike was never going to be ridden again. It was useless.

It was perfect!  For my use at least.  I’m an artist.  I’ve been fortunate–achieved some renown.  Perhaps you saw my most recent show at the Modern Art Museum.  Randal Terry of The Daily called the exhibit “Terrific—an insightful interrogation of life in the 21st century.”

The piece that really made my reputation was that broken clock face.  I found it in a junk pile–just like this one.  Broken, useless.  Time standing still.  If you’ve ever seen the painting The Persistence of Memory by Dali, you know the power of a clock as a symbol.  A clock that no longer works–is our time up?  Have we reached the end of history?  Or is time just an illusion–a hallucination in a fundamentally unchanging universe?

An artist asks the question, lets the viewer provide the answer.

Useless

That’s how the doctor described my legs.  The weeks I spent in the hospital went by much faster than the months in rehab.  I worked hard.  I did everything that was asked of me–all the exercises.  But the feeling never returned.  My back was broken, and my legs would never move again.

Useless

That’s what I had to tell the insurance company after the accident–that I was useless–that I would never be able to work again.  How could I build a house?  I couldn’t even stand on my own two legs.  How could I climb onto another roof?  I could barely climb out of my wheelchair.

Useless

That’s what my lawyer made me say on the stand.  Having to sit there, look your peers in the eye, and tell them that you are useless.  Can you imagine that?  I may be broken, but I am not useless.

The accident opened up a whole new life for me. After saying that I was useless, I discovered I had much more I wanted to say. I found a talent for saying it in new and compelling ways. I could connect deeply with other people’s experiences. I found a voice and a purpose I’d not had before.

Yes, the bike is useless. I have the perfect use in mind.