As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie,
he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok.
Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren’t any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause.
They are here to save our lives.
I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.
Harold Crick: Dave, can I pose a somewhat abstract, purely hypothetical question?
Harold Crick: If you knew you were gonna die, possibly soon, what would you do?
Dave: Wow, I don’t know. Am I the richest man in the world?
Harold Crick: No, you’re you.
Dave: Do I have a superpower?
Harold Crick: No, you’re *you*.
Dave: I know I’m me, but do I have a superpower?
Harold Crick: No, why would you have a superpower?
Dave: I don’t know, you said it was hypothetical.
Harold Crick: Fine, yes, you’re really good at math.
Dave: That’s not a power, that’s a skill.
Harold Crick: Okay, you’re good at math and you’re invisible. And you know you’re gonna die.
Dave: Okay, okay. That’s easy, I’d go to space camp.
Harold Crick: Space camp?
Dave: Yeah, it’s in Alabama. It’s where kids go to learn how to become astronauts. I’ve always wanted to go since I was nine.
Harold Crick: You’re invisible and you’d go to space camp?
Dave: I didn’t pick invisible, you picked invisible.
Harold Crick: Aren’t you too old to go to space camp?