Infant Vision - Jim Gold International

Infant Vision
by Jim Gold

What if you could see the world again with the freshness, freedom, and wonder of a child?
In Infant Vision: Bring Happiness to the World, Jim Gold invites readers into a delightfully offbeat universe where animals converse, strangers transform one another’s lives, and the unexpected waits around every corner. Witty, imaginative, and deeply human, these short stories challenge the assumptions of adulthood and awaken a freer way of seeing. Open this book—and rediscover the infant vision still alive within you.

Read from the back cover below
READERS OF JIM GOLD’S FICTION have always been charmed by the odd worlds he creates that look an awful lot like the one we’re living in. . .except for something slightly out of place. At times, this skewed reality can be found in the forces that govern these invented worlds, where up is often down and right is often left. At other times, our heroes and heroines are driven by urges and beliefs we’ve rarely if ever encountered in our lives. Animals converse. Complete strangers engage in intimate, often lifechanging encounters. The author’s passion for the zany and offbeat marks his stories with a rainbow of the unexpected. In this collection, Gold turns his attention to an aspect of experience that is rarely examined. What if it were possible for all of us to somehow preserve the impressions and understandings of early childhood, where we saw the world around us free of the assumptions and preconceptions we gradually attach to everything we observe? What would that be like? It’s a journey in perception you get a chance to take in these witty, engrossing, and deeply humane tales—and maybe leave more eager to recapture the freedom of your own infant vision.

Excerpts from the book
Infant Vision
Tommy’s mother called from the kitchen. “It’s seven o’clock, dear. The school bus is coming in twenty minutes. Put on your shoes.”
“Ma, what grade am I in?” Tommy asked.
“First grade.”
“How old am I?”
“Five.” His mother gave him a hug. “But your sixth birthday is tomorrow.”
“Then why do I look eighty-four?”
“You don’t brush your teeth enough.”
“Ma, am I really eighty-four?”
“You’re six. Brush your teeth. You’ll be late.”
”But Ma–”
”All right, all right. You’ll be eighty-four tomorrow.”
“You mean I can be six and eighty-four?”
“Of course. Most people have two ages, some many more.”
“Why?”
“They have infant vision.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s how infants see things.”
“Is it good?”
“Sometimes.”
“When?”
“If it’s pure, fresh, and simple.”
“Does infant vision run in the family?”
“Your father has it. That’s why he jumps out the window when he tries to fly.”
“Does he hurt himself?”
“Rarely. When he jumps from the first floor it’s okay. But when he forgets to open the window, he’s gets cut pretty badly–and there’s lots of broken glass. But Dad enjoys hospitals.”
“Is that why I’m five and eight-four?”
His mother saw the school bus pull up to the house. “Hurry,:” she said. “Put on your shoes. And take your homework assignment.”
“But how old am I?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”

Oro Lox Y Los Tres Osos

(Goldy Locks and the Three Bears)

Once upon a time there lived three bears, a mama bear, a papa bear, and a baby bear. They lived in a charming split-level next to a wildlife sanctuary just south of Piscataway, New Jersey.

Mama Bear wore a long dress, looked like Stalin, and spoke Russian. Papa Bear had a long beard, wore a tunic of many colors, looked like Moses, and spoke Hebrew. Baby Bear wore short pants, looked like Franz Liszt, and bubbled in Hungarian.

Each bear had a porridge bowl—a little bowl for Baby Bear, a soup bowl for Mama Bear, and a large salad bowl for Papa Bear. Each bear had a chair to sit on—a small plastic chair for Baby Bear, an armchair for Mama Bear, and a four-seat sofa for Papa Bear.

One morning the three bears cooked porridge for breakfast, poured it into their bowls, and, while waiting for it to cool, went for a short walk in the sanctuary.

All morning long, Oro Lox had been hiding behind a maple tree in the sanctuary, watching the house. She wore a jump suit and running shoes, carried a large shopping bag, looked like Torquemada, and spoke Spanish. When at last she saw that the house of the three bears was empty, she said to herself. “Soy contento. Ahora puede robar la casa de los tres osos.” (I’m happy. Now I can rob the house of the three bears.)

She ran to the house, slid her master charge card into the door crack, sprang the lock, pushed the door open, and entered. She searched the living room, the upstairs closets and drawers, and emptied the loose change, jewelry, credit cards, and cell phone into her shopping bag. Then she turned to the kitchen and lifted the silverware and microwave oven. The delicious smell of fresh-cooked porridge wafted up to her nostrils. She took a soup spoon out of her shopping bag and tasted the porridge. Mmmm, so good. She tasted it again. Mmmm, delicious. She added heavy cream, butter, honey, raisins, and a few slices of banana. Ah, even better!

She ate until she could eat no more.

The extra lactose, heavy cream, butter, and high cholesterol in the porridge soon went to work. Oro Lox wanted to sit down and rest.

First she sat in Baby Bear’s plastic chair. Too tight. Next she sat in Mama Bear’s armchair. Too soft. Then she sat in Papa Bear’s four-seat sofa. Ah, just right.

Soon she began to get sleepy. She went upstairs and laid herself on Baby Bear’s cot. Too narrow. Next she tried Mama Bear’s box spring. Too hard. Finally, she went to Papa Bear’s king-sized bad. Just right. She covered herself with his sheepskin blanket and fell asleep.

When the three bears thought their porridge had cooled enough, they came home from their Sunday morning walk.

Baby Bear looked at his empty porridge bowl and cried, “Nem jó van. Ki eszik porridgom?” (“No good. Who is eating my porridge?”)

Mama Bear looked at her empty porridge bowl and groaned. ”Ya doomayoo kto-to ookral moyoo porridge” (“I think someone stole my porridge.”)

Papa Bear looked at his empty porridge bowl and roared: “Mi ochel et ha porridge sheli?” (“Who ate my porridge!”)

Papa Bear angrily picked up the empty porridge bowls and put them in the sink. Mama and Baby Bear went into the living room, only to find their chairs in disarray.

In a puzzled voice, Baby Bear asked, “Ki úl szekom? En nem boldog vagyok” (“Who is sitting in my chair? I’m not happy.”)

Then Mama Bear cried, ”Smotri! Ya ne choostvoya sebya choposho.” (“Look, I don’t feel well.”)

Papa Bear finished washing the bowls, crawled into the living room, looked at his chair and growled, “Yesh harbein bayot ba beit shelanu. Mi yoshev ba kisei sheli?” (“There are lots of problems in our house. Who sat in my chair?”)

The bears were about to call the police when Mama, on a premonition, ran upstairs, pushed open the door to her bedroom, and checked at her box spring bed. “Smotri! (Look!) She shouted. “Kto bil f moi krovats?” (“Who was in my bed?”)

Baby Bear followed her, looked in his bedroom, saw his cot lyingd on its side, and said, “Mit csinál? Nö vagy férfi ágyoban.” (“What’s going on? A woman or a man was in my bed.”)

Papa Bear lumbered upstairs, went in his room, pulled the sheepskin blanket off his king-sized bed, and roared. “Yesh isha ba mita sheli!” (“There’s a woman in my bed!”)

When Oro Lox heard the Hebrew roar of Papa Bear it woke her with a start. Opening her eyes wide, she asked, “Que pasa?” (“What’s happening?”). She looked around the room, saw the hairy menacing form of Papa Bear hovering over her, heard Mama Bear growling “Glupi, glupi” (“Stupid, stupid!”) in the corner, and Baby Bear cursing in Hungarian. She was scared. “Tengo miedo, tengo miedo!” she cried. Then she bolted out of bed, scampered between Papa Bear’s powerful hairy legs, brushed past Mama Bear, jumped over Baby Bear, ran down the stairs four steps at a time, pulled open the front door, and dashed down the road.

“Viszontlátásra” (“Goodbye”), said Baby Bear.

“Dosvidanya” (“Goodbye”), said Mama Bear.

“L’hitraot” (“Goodbye”), said Papa Bear.

And Los Tres Osos never saw Oro Lox again.

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About Jim Gold
Jim Gold is a writer, folk dance teacher and choreographer, classical and folk guitarist, cultural-tour organizer, and founder of Jim Gold International. For decades, he has brought people together through dance, music, travel, writing, culture, and friendship. His books explore creativity, movement,
humor, struggle, beauty, and the art of living fully.

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Infant Vision
Or contact:
Jim Gold International
jimgold@jimgold.com
(201) 836-0362

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