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Show -212 an apple. "Why did you quit at the factory?" she said. "Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life packing lampshades or taping petals." I didn't tell her about my dream, or maybe it was a vision, in the old elevator shaft, hanging among the wheels, gears and iron claws of the package hoist. It was a cool quiet place; half a dozen cobwebbed electric bulbs enlightened the gloom and threw shadows of chains, girders and gears on the walls. I was hanging alone in the heart of the building. I could hear the presses on the ground floor punching out bottlecaps ten thousand to the minute; the Christmas-card printers on the third floor were practically at my elbow; just above me were the people who made plastic chairs. Somewhere further up was my Fancy, dancing at her machine, feet and graceful fingers flying, turning out orange and avocado shades for which we had a big order from Kansas City. I stopped oiling and let my mind wander. I wanted to strip my life down to essentials, but I didn't know what they were. Is a TV essential? an extra pair of pants? books? a car? a wife? a house? children of my own? They're all encumbrances but so is life. Peel your daily existence down like an onion or a pearl and the danger is that you may find no essential center, Thoreau died at 44-was it because he'd lost his taste for that final encumbrance, his life? Did |