My African Violet

My African Violet was withered by the sun, and so badly that it looked dead, beyond resuscitation.

The sight of a plant this droopy and lifeless, its leaves curled in on itself, is a gruesome thing, especially if you have known the creature in better times, in its turgid, boastful purple and green days.

I got a whole new perspective on the condition, however, when I learned on NPR's "You Bet Your Garden" that this shriveling and scoliosis of the stems is the plant's natural emergency mechanism for saving itself. What looked to me like a resignation to death was in fact a heroic grasp for life. My brave little potted friend was struggling to conserve what little strength it had left, in hopes, perchance, of a late summer rain (since its negligent human caretaker had gone away for a week and left no surrogate).

My mind made the leap from herbs to men. One encounters people throughout one's life who look like damaged goods. And no doubt they are. Droopy and lifeless, or curled in on themselves, they look gruesome and make the onlooker recoil and turn away.

The plant withered because it was trying to save itself. The unappealing person caved in with depression or addiction or surliness is trying to save himself too. The lesson from the African Violet-and a cardinal rule for understanding human behavior-is that no one does anything for no reason. You need to find the reason. And just knowing that there is one stirs my compassion.