Nathan Englander - Lost & Found

 

 

The pandemic started so soon after I moved to Canada. I had no idea it was global. I just thought it was a local Toronto thing, [audience laughter] like charming cities shame it's always closed. [audience laughter] It was me, my wife, Rach, whose job we moved for our daughter, Olivia, and our baby, I mean, a real baby son, Sam. 

 

Literally, by the time we could get two kids into snowsuits, they were like, “Let's wrap this back up and head on inside.” When we told the Canadians, “As a nation, if you wear a mask at the supermarket and spend some time in the house, your neighbors won't die.” They were like, “That sounds utterly sensible.” [audience laughter] So, we did that. 

 

So, there we are in the house and we are cut off from everyone. It's just us. Me, Rach and two littles and a dog. So, there we are running a nursery, and a grade school and a dog college. [audience laughter] It's all on us, one gets up early, one goes to sleep late, and I'm doing it all. All the pandemic stuff, I'm baking the sourdough breads and getting fancy. I'm cutting my own hair. I'm doing everything, except the one thing that I have done every day of my life, which is, write. That is what I do. It's what gives my life meaning outside of that family. It is what keeps me sane and keeps me together. But that is just gone.

 

Well, a quick two years later, we take our masks off, and go back on side, and we're starting to do stuff, play dates again, all that kind of thing. I dropped my daughter on a Sunday at her friend, Mia's, house and I head home and I see something I have not seen in a while, the house is silent. Dog is asleep on the floor. Rach is quiet doing stuff at the table. And we have just not had quiet together in so long. But she knows me and she knows what I need and she's like, “Go, write.” 

 

So, I head to my office, which is the boiler room, and I start working on a story. I am terrified. For a number of reasons, this is how I contribute. Writing fiction is how I support the family. I haven't had a book, and my play didn't open and I haven't worked in two years. I am missing two years of income. And I'm terrified, because it's like going to the gym after two years. It's like getting back in shape. I have interrupted this practice and I have to learn how to sit again. That's hard. 

 

I'm terrified for another reason is because I was born terrified. You know what I'm saying? [audience laughter] I was born straight flight in this world, and it has never stopped. And then, they sent me to Jewish school and they taught us Jewish history, which did not go well. [audience laughter] You know what I'm saying? And then, there's my mother, who is just classic silent generation worrier. If you go outside, you're going to die across the street. You're going to get hit by a car. You're going to choke on whatever that is. [audience laughter] All I got was terror. You know what I'm saying? 

 

Because of that, I am literally never in the moment. I spent my whole life worrying. I've had a very fortunate career and I worried like, it's already gone wrong. It will go wrong. I have a lot of friends here tonight. I'm like, “They're mad at me. They will be mad at me. I'm so sorry. I think you're mad at me right now.” [audience laughter] That's how I live. 

 

So, I am working on this story and it is like pulling teeth, but I got to grind. That's how you get back in shape. I push and I push and it's just not going well. I just look at my watch, time of death, 03:15, like, let's hit the showers. So, I get in the shower, I call upstairs to Rach to see if she wants to lifeguard. She comes down, she joins me and hilarity ensues. No, we had sex. Anyway. [audience laughter] 

 

But she goes back upstairs. I know we need to conserve water, but I am stressed. I have told you I take a hot shower, I boil myself, I just need to calm down. So, I head upstairs in my towel, and Rach’s again doing her thing upstairs and I'm like, “I think I had a waking dream.” It's so bizarre. Now, if any of you married to writer types or artsy types, super not weird for me to think I'm in a waking dream. Doesn't even look up. And then, I'm like, “Where's Olivia?” And she's like, “At Mia's.” And I'm like, “Who's Mia?” And that gets her attention. 

 

And then, I ask it again, and then she's like, “Something is terribly wrong.” So, she's like, “How'd the story go today?” And I'm like, “What story?” And then, she asked me, “You know about my whole writing career in five books.” And I'm like, “No idea what she's talking about.” It becomes clear that I know who she is, the kids are and nothing else. I have had a massive stroke. I am erased. 

 

She dials 911, and they're on the way. Firstly, she and I both being, she says I was my best self and she hers, like, her life has just ended. She's like, as she knows it, she's not putting me out with recycling. She has two little kids now, and me. She's got plenty of worries, but mostly, she's just worried about me being okay. You know what I'm saying? It's just love. And on my end, she said, I just keep going, “Where's Sammy? Where's Olivia?” Trying to get a handle on making sure my kids are safe. I know that. And also, I say really sadly, because I know what I love, what I do. I say, “I know I need my brain for work, and I don't think I'll be able to do that anymore.” It's just sad. 

 

The other thing, back to being terrified and worry all the time, I'm also really shy. I don't want an ambulance to come in Toronto. It's not New York, where if you hit the street, everyone just steps over and gets on the G train, I got to get to a coffee. [audience laughter] You know what I'm saying? I met a neighbor in my building after three years who lived next door. I'm like, “New here?” that kind of thing. [audience laughter] In Toronto, they're all up in your business, taking your mail, helping you, shoveling. I spent all day shoveling for neighbors, putting your garbage pails away. I don't want them to see me get in an ambulance, which you really don't take the advice of someone who just seems to have had a massive stroke. Nonetheless, not a good idea. 

 

The ambulance shows up right quick. In come the paramedics, who are heroic. Thank you, our brave paramedics. Incoming three paramedics, and they are on me and getting me outside and getting me ready and they were also on Rach. They know the routine. They're like, “You, wallet, phone charger. Wallet, phone charger.” They get us out the door, into the ambulance, strap us in. Me, Rach's in the back, sirens blaring, we are off to the stroke hospital right quick. Rachel is just weeping in back. I'm repeating questions, but she's repeating, “Is there any way that there isn't the worst-case scenario? Is there any way that this can be okay?” They got nothing to tell her. It looks bad. 

 

And then, one of the paramedics has been doing it for years. He's like, “A long time ago, there once was a woman, and I think it was fine.” That's all they got for her. [audience laughter] She's working the phones. And there I am up front, and I'm looping my questions, and I got an extra question. I'm like, “Where are the kids? Where is this--” just trying to get a handle on it was and this primal. I don't think I've ever said this word. They're trying to take care of me. I'm like, “Did we bone?” And the guy's like, “Yes, sir, you boned.” You know what I'm saying? [audience laughter] I'm just looping, looping. 

 

So, we get to the hospital, they stick us in a room and everybody's trying to figure out what's wrong. They come in, they come out. Rachel's on the phone with my buddy, Dr. Daniel, a dear friend in New York, top doctor. He's helping out. And in comes the attending, the head of the stroke hospital. He can't figure it out. And Daniel's like, “Wait, the paramedic said he once saw a thing. If those guys have seen it's out there.” Daniel figures it out. He says, “There's this thing called TGA, Transient Global Amnesia.” We tell the doctor, he's like, “Let me google that. I'll be right back.” [audience laughter] 

 

He goes off to check WebMD. He's never seen it at the stroke hospital, [audience laughter] but it really is a thing. It is extraordinarily rare and maybe I got it. It comes with a checklist. Here's the checklist. Like, number one, “Have you been stressed?” I already told you, I was born stressed. Number two, extremes of heat and cold. “Have you done the Polar Bear Plunge at Coney Island? Did you sit in the hot tub too long with a beer?” Check. 

 

Number three, “Are you repeating questions?” I am looping like a motherfucker. [audience laughter] That's it. And number four, and I will stick here with the medical term, “Have you recently boned?” [audience laughter] Anyway, I got it all. The doctor comes back. He's like, “I've never seen it before, but this really could be it. But you don't mess around with the human brain.” They're like, “Let's get him a CAT scan and see if it burst.” So, they send me into the back room, they're going to turn me into a human corn dog, put me on that bed and shoot me into the Holland Tunnel. [audience laughter] 

 

And the tech, first, they got to do is give you a shot and dye all your capillaries. I don't know what it is, like, melted ices and mercury. But nonetheless, they fill me up. They start rolling me into the machine, and he says, “Don't worry. It's completely normal. You may have a metallic taste in your mouth, or you may feel a tingling in your groin.” And I'm like, “Sir, that's how we got into this mess.” [audience laughter] Anyway, they send me in, they send me out. Rach and I go into the waiting room. 

 

On the inside of the hospital, we're just cuddling and having our moment. And the time is going by. They got to read this. And I'm doing the Monday New York Times crossword puzzle, which could mean I'm getting better or that I stroked out, it's Monday. [audience laughter] But nonetheless, eventually, the doctor comes and he's like, “I've never seen it, but you're fine. It's this thing. There's nothing. No hereditary, no future, no, don't eat red meat. Like, nothing. No neurologist. Just go home. You've got a miracle on your hands.” 

 

So, we say thanks. We head out the door into the night and Rachel goes, “Did you see that?” And I'm like, “What? I'm already worried about the quality of my memory. What did I miss? What did I miss?” She's like, “We didn't pay. It's fucking Canada.” [audience cheers and applause]

 

There is nowhere to pay, because that's what a poorer and decent country does. It is a human right. And I am thankful I got a roof over my head. But man, the ambulance, the emergency room, the CAT scan, it would have ruined us. And most people don't even have enough to get ruined. All I got to pay for is the Uber, and I'm like, “Honey, it's on me.” [audience laughter]

 

So, I get us a car, we head home. I told you those Canadians are nosy. Ishbel was looking out the door. She saw me and Rach get in an ambulance and no kids around, and she's worried and she baked us bread. There was a loaf of hot bread waiting at the door. I take it in, and we go to the counter and Rach and I are just eating hot buttered bread at the counter looking at each other, and I noticed something has changed. I'm present. I don't think I've ever been in the now before. And that feeling sticks with me, like I'll just be walking down the street with my sweet old dog, Callie and Sammy, and I'm just taking a walk with my son.

 

And one morning, Olivia wakes up at dawn, my daughter, and we're just cuddling in a blanket in the windowsill watching the sunrise. And I think, is this what life is for other people? And I go to Rach and I was like, “Is this what other people do? Is this how they live?” I never knew.” And Rachel cries. She cries. She's so sad. But I don't. I don’t cry, because a half a century of worry gone by, and I got thrust into the moment and now I never want to leave. Thank you.