Home » Duncan Gurley's Smart Medicine

Although I had been diagnosed by an optometrist at a very early age with inverted vision I have often considered this more the result of my overactive imagination as a child than anything else. Yet, I must wonder. For by the time I had entered junior high school I was conversing frequently in reversed English with a friend of mine by the name of Nacnud Yelrug. Nacnud's real name, of course, was Duncan Gurley. I was Kram Cesrap.

Of all the friends I have ever had Duncan Gurley was my favorite. Duncan was a frail child, pale, and awkward. Duncan was very sick. I do not recall exactly what his diagnosis was. It seems to me that he had mentioned a brain tumor. He had told me that he had been in the hospital for a long time and that while he was there he was an idiot. Everyone had thought that Duncan was going to die. At least, Duncan thought he was going to die.

 

Duncan's father was a physicist at the Lawrence Livermore Laboratories. He was a very intelligent man, from what Duncan told me, and a very caring father. He found Duncan the best help money could buy. One day, the doctors gave Duncan some new medicine while he was in his bed. Duncan recovered and with his recovery Duncan discovered he was now very, very intelligent. He claimed that the miracle medicine had changed him and made him smarter!

 

Duncan taught me how to play chess, much to his chagrin. When finally I had defeated him at his own game Duncan became very dramatic about his loss. In fact, I believe he even cried. Then he snapped to attention, shook my hand in a very gentlemanly manner and congratulated me for my achievement.

 

Then Duncan's eyes lit up and he said, Now you are ready!"

"For what?" I asked.

"You will see..." Duncan said, with a fake German accent.

"What?"

"Some... ting..."

"What?"

"Some... ting..."

"What?"

 

Duncan squinted his eyes behind his thin wire rim glasses and leaned very close to me. His eyes darted suspiciously back and forth across the immediate area as if to ensure that what he was about to say was of the utmost secrecy. He raised one of his eyebrows and whispered, "Some ting verrry interesting."

 

He was impersonating the comedian from Rollan and Martin's Laugh In whom, in Nazi uniform and spectacles, had made the statement so familiar during the 70's.

 

"What?" I asked again.

"Come to my house tomorrow at... Vun O'Clock."

"Why?"

"You vill see!"

"I will see?"

"Yes, tomorrow. Vun O'Clock. At my house."

 

Duncan started to turn and walk away, but stopped. "Oh, yes! I almost forgot" he said pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here is my address. He handed me the paper, then walked away.

 

Duncan had planned the whole thing out. That's just the way he was. Everything was a game to him, and every game prepared you somehow for the next game to come. As I was soon to find out.

 

When I went to Duncan's house the next day, at Vun O'Clock, he met me at the door, held out two closed fists and said, "Pick a hand."

 

I picked a hand and Duncan opened it to reveal a small square cardboard game piece, with strange designs and numbers inscribed upon its pink surface.

 

"Good!" Duncan rejoiced. "I am Germany! I am zee Superior Race! I vill crush you! I vill destroy you!"

 

"Why?" I asked.

 

"Look!" He said pointing to the game piece he had handed me. "You are zee Russians. You are zee communist svine. I vill destroy you. Come... you vill see."

 

Duncan led me to the kitchen table where he had already set up something unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was, indeed, something... veryyy interesting. It was a military strategy board game called Stalingrad, by Avlon Hill.

 

"What is this?" I asked.

"Prepare yourself!" Duncan said taking a seat at the head of the table. "It is 1941 and YOU are being invaded! I am Germany. You are Russia. I vill destroy you."

"How do you play?" I asked.

"Play?" Duncan challenged. "This is not play. Dis is war!"

 

I knew nothing about the game prior to this. But, I did know enough about history to recall that Germany had lost World War II, and Russia had won. Because of this knowledge I decided that I had a good chance of defeating my adversary. I was wrong.

 

We played for three days. Russia lost World War II, and I was responsible for the deaths of millions of people. History had been changed.

 

In the weeks and months that followed we played again and again. We fought in Stalingrad, the Battle of the Bulge, Midway,. Iwo Jima, and Midway. Often Duncan would win, yet, sometimes I would win. But, it really did not matter who won, it was the experience that drove us on.

 

I learned about history. I learned about war. I learned about strategy and tactics, offense and defense, blitz and bluff, attrition and retention, supply and demand, success and failure, confidence and fear. And a whole new world opened up to me. I was no longer a weak little child, but empowered with the ability to think! It was as if I had somehow received the secret medicine the doctors had given Duncan Gurley through mental osmosis.

 

During those wonderful days of mental illumination it had occurred to me that Duncan had the strategic advantage of having the game boards at his disposal for unlimited perusal and contemplation. This I intended to change.

 

But, I could not go out and buy a game. No, my father was not a physicist. So, I designed and fabricated a game board of my own. I used old cardboard boxes of several varieties and thicknesses. First, I designed the game board, with a geography all my own, with rivers, lakes, mountains, forests, deserts, cities, and roads... all carefully drawn and painted. Over this geography I penned in an octagonal grid system, typical of military game boards. I cut up tiny square game board pieces, painted them red and blue, then labeled them into various categories of armies which listed their attack, defense, and traveling factors.

 

One day I invited Duncan to come over to my house.

 

"Vy?" He asked.

"Because I have something I want to show you." I told him.

"Vot?" He asked curiously.

"Some... ting..."

"Vot?"

"Some... ting... gnitseretni yrev."

"Vot?" He asked. "Vot is zis ting gnitseretni yrev?"

 

Then his eyes grew wide. Duncan, of course, spoke fluent Nacirema. I had to laugh when he sounded it out...

 

"Someting... Verrry interesting?" He asked.

"Yes." I replied.

"Vot?" He asked again.

"Cesrapdorf." I answered.

"Cesrapdorf? Cesrapdorf? Vot is dis Cesrapdorf?"

"Come to my house tomorrow at Noon and you will see." I answered. I then gave him the directions to my home.

 

When Duncan arrived at my house, the next day, the first words out of his mouth were, "Vot is dis Cesrapdorf?"

"Come" I said, "And you will see."

 

I led Duncan to the game board and when he looked at it he was filled with fascination and wonder.

 

"Here!" I said handing hi a red game piece.

"Vot is dis?" He asked dumbfounded.

"You are the Yelrugians!" I said, "I am the Cesrapians."

"But, how do you play?" He argued.

"Play?" I mocked. "Play? This is not play. This is not play. This is War!"

 

We fought battles through the Forests of Kram and pitched our tents along River Thaed. We engaged armies in Valley Trebor and in Desert Emash our soldiers fell. We warred in the land of Cesrap, we warred in the land of Yelrug. But, when at last Fort Nacnud had fallen I knew the world was mine!

 

I never again saw Duncan after that. For the winds of destiny had blown my way and our family moved away. But, the things that I had learned from my friend shall never be forgotten. They were the seeds that opened my eyes at a tender young age to another universe and shaped my conception of realities without number.

 

© 1997 Mark Parsec