A Written Rescue

Sam looked across the silent room in the institution where patients stayed who were said to have serious problems in their minds. There he saw his brother, Jim, whom he loved and whose mind he had long admired because of his amazing ability to write. But now, according to one of the staff that worked there had stated, “Your brother has nothing left in the tank. He does not say a word. It is like his mind is completely empty.”

Sam walked over to his brother slowly. He still had hopes for his brother and their relationship, but this time, as with the other such occasions, all he received in return was a blank stare, and utter silence. It was like he was saying to him “I don’t know who you are. Go away.” Still Sam had hope each time that he went there, that the two of them could talk to each other. But nothing like that came close to happening. Only one brother ever spoke..

He soon stood right in front of his brother. Jim only looked at him for a few seconds, not in recognition, but in complete dismay that there was something that he wanted which clearly was not there at this time, like all the other such times. When Sam reached out to shake his hand, no hand reached out to meet his. There was just a shaking of his brother’s head.

It wasn’t very long before Sam gave up, as he had done every single time before. He soon turned around and walked out briskly to and out the distant door of departure, wondering whether he should not try this again.

Returning Home

Returning to his wife at home, he walked up to her and gave her a big hug, as he always did when he returned after a failing meeting with his brother.They held each other tight for about ten minutes. She had noticed right from his arrival that there were tears in his eyes, yet again knowing what had just happened to her husband.

She had news for him. A man had called and asked to speak to Jim. That seemed strange. Anyone who knew Jim in the last year or so would know that speaking wasn’t likely for him.Sam wondered how he was going to explain to this gentleman that he would not get any words from Jim. He hated to tell him about the state that his brother was in. Still, he knew that he should return the call. He did not want his brother to be thought of as rude.

So he gave the man a call, not really sure what he was going to say. Once he was on the phone that did not become a problem, as the man certainly had a lot to say. Apparently he wanted to talk about a book. It had been misplaced in a back shelf for months, after it had been submitted, and they had just recently found it. Apparently my brother had written it before he had ‘lost his mind’.I did not make mention of that for a number of good reasons.

He then asked me whether another publisher had picked up the book, but he had not seen it in anybody else’s collection of present publications, so he reckoned that they could publish it.

All that was necessary now for the book to be published was for my brother to sign a contract. Knowing that that path might lead to failure, I had to do some quick thinking about how the contract could be signed. I soon did.I told him my brother had given me the rights to sign any contract that might appear. I was his manager.

The man clearly wanted the book so badly that he was ready to believe my story, and I signed an agreement. There was a big smile on his face. He said that they would begin the publishing right away. He then added, “We will tell you when it is ready, so we can make a dynamic event of the book coming out. I agreed and the man shook my hand vigorously. That reflected an optimism that I did not feel at the time.

I asked him what the name of the book was. I told him that I had forgotten, and then pretended to laugh at myself. That was for sure a truth. He told me that the name was “Written Rescue.”

After he left, my wife and I had a long conversation about what we were going to do concerning trying to make Sam respond to the publisher. Maybe he would be shocked into communication, into normalcy

We developed a strategy. I would write out the name of the book, and hand it to him each time I would go to see him. Perhaps that might bring about positive results. It was something of a wild plan, but I knew that I had to do something. This might just be the opportunity I had wanted for months.

Carrying Out the Plan

So every day I went to visit my brother. I would hand out a copy of the book title each time. There seemed to be at first the lack of reaction that I had been receiving all along. After a couple of weeks I got an idea that might prove to have a better result.

I called the publisher to ask whether there had been any copies printed yet. Much to my delight he said that there were. I told him that Sam would love to see one of them. The publisher agreed with my plan.

The next day, on my lunch break at work I drove like a demon to the publisher’s building. I grabbed a copy of the book and held it close to my heart, hoping against hope that this might bring about the result that I so much wanted. That night I read the book. To my way of thinking it was the best thing my brother had ever written. I knew it would sell well. I just had to convince Sam of that.

The Book is Passed On

I walked boldly into the room where Sam was staying. I dramatically handed him a copy, and said with a louder than usual voice, “Here is your book. I did not know about it before, but now it is published. The words there are yours. I think that it is the best thing that you have ever written. Congratulations!

The first surprise was how he held his book in his hands and stared at it, like it was the return of a long lost friend. He hugged the book. I told him that I would leave him to read it now, to remember that he has a great writer’s mind, and that the book could bring him back to being a writer once more.

When I returned the next day, Sam was a very different person, like the brother I grew up with. He actually spoke to me, thanking me for what I had done. I had almost forgotten what his voice sounded like. He told me that he had been devastated by the lack of response to his submission.

Then he said that he wanted to make contact with the publisher, to organize one presentation or more. Then he showed me that he had written a couple of pages about the shock to his system of the apparent failure of his book, and how the news of publication had struck him into sanity. It was a written rescue