Nine doctors claim that Samuel Simon is suffering from delusions. I
am of the same opinion.
For 29 years I have been in the mental institute. They are friendly
to me. I can do what I want. When it's warm, I go into the garden
and listen to the hours die. When it is cold, I sit at the window
and let my mind drift towards the sky. Often I watch the people,
when they call or work or are sad... I am glad that I am far away.
I do not miss life. I am glad if no one does anything to me or wants
anything from me. I don't envy people.
Nine times a year my pale wife brings me flowers. My son Siegmund
never comes. The last time I saw him was when I was buried. On my
49th birthday-I lay in a plain wooden coffin. I was placed on a
wagon-like catafalque. Nine pall-bearers dressed in black walked
beside me. Behind me was the pastor, Leopold Lehmann, and at his
side my wife Frieda and my nineteen-year-old son Siegmund. Behind
them were a few relatives, who were contented, and were speaking
about the plague of caterpillars.
The sun cast warm light. Wind blew from time to time. It crawled
over the gravel, tickling the women's breasts and calves. We stopped
before the open grave. The coffin was lowered, and a few formalities
and
prayers were taken care of. Then the pastor, Leopold Lehmann, began,
at the behest and at the expense of my wife, to deliver a memorial
speech. He said:
"Dear sisters and brothers! Once again a kindly fate has robbed us
of the life of a dear person. In grief we stand at the grave of the
departed and remember him sadly."
My son Siegmund bit his lips. The pastor said:
"The earth, which has singled out the body so that it might lead its
own life for a short while, has taken it back into the bosom of the
mother. A noble man has gone home--"
A fit of laughter overcame my son Siegmund. His face became red and
serious... He laughed until he was gasping.
My wife shrieked.
A pall-bearer dropped a bottle of whiskey, which broke on the coffin.
The pall-bearer regretfully cast his eyes down.
The relatives were outraged. They were ashamed of my son Siegmund.
Some women cried into genuine lace handkerchiefs.