Books
by Frank Polite available at Amazon.com (click
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FLAMINGO
HYDE,
A Novella Noire
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Heidi
Zircoff's Boot
by Frank Polite
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I first
met Dr. Jung near the ski lift at Wildspitz
in
the canton of Zug. He was there to speak
to
a conference of Zeiss lens designers on the
relationship
of their craft to the eastern mandala.
Imagine
my fright; here was C.G. Jung, world-
renowned,
hoary with wisdom, and I - merely
sixteen,
a green slip of a girl, and wholly in awe
of
him! I had devoured most of Jung's writings,
a
lot of which I didn't nearly understand, but all I
had
ever felt and thought Jung had articulated
in
his theories - my life, as it were, in a blink
of
his eye. Of course, I was precocious, insanely
so,
barely able to control the flood of images
that
assailed me, when I was captured by Jung's
theater
of Archetypes, Shadow, Animus, Anima,
and
so on. It fascinated and calmed me, knowing
that
I was not alone in the phantasmagorias
of
my mind. In the whiz-kid category I excelled,
perhaps,
even Sabina Spielrein who was very
bright
indeed. But that, as they say, is another
story,
and unlike mine, not a very happy one.
Anyway,
here was the great man and I was about
to
be introduced to him. Understandably shy,
I
began to edge toward the rear of the group that
surrounded
Jung when, suddenly, I slipped on
a
patch of ice and fell backward. I must have
let
out a cry, I don't remember now, that caused
all
attention to be focused on me. Jung, ever
the
doctor, was immediately at my side inquiring
if
I felt particular pains in my back and legs.
When
my movements assured him that I wasn't
hurt,
he helped me up and that was the moment
my
mother stepped forward to introduce me.
"Dr.
Jung, this is my daughter, Fraulein Heidi
Zircoff."
Jung took my hand and was about to
greet
me when a weird vibration ran up my right
leg.
I looked down, and to my horror, a small
dog
was rapidly humping my fur-lined boot.
Well,
I was so shocked and embarrassed, I didn't
have
the presence of mind to shake off the dog
or
do anything except stand there mortified.
Time
had stopped for me. The dog kept on
humping
while I could only stare at Jung wide-
eyed
and speechless. Jung looked at the dog,
and
then at me - with those razory-blue eyes of
his
- and said, "As you see, dear Heidi, the
Pomeranian
and I are delighted to meet you."
Well,
that sent up a howl of laughter from the
group,
myself and Jung joining in, and the spell
was
broken. A blitz of witticisms followed that
actually
had us rolling in the snow. Mrs. Jung
said
that the dog was obviously the renegade
analyst,
Otto Gross, in a small furry suit.
"In
that case," Dr. Von Franz said, "we must all
book
analysis with Herr Doktor Dog at 5
milkbones
an hour." Mr. Van Der Post said,
"At
5 boners an hour, I would not need an
analyst,
but a splint." When the hilarity quieted
down,
Jung said to me in mock seriousness,
"When
your boot has puppies, we will all stand
as
Godparents." That started it off again, an
avalanche
of wit and laughter that escalated into
a
terrific snowball fight. Oh yes, I almost forgot
-
at some point I kicked off the boot and gave
it
to the dog, which it continued to bang away on
oblivious
to our human melee. Years later,
Jung
told me that he had observed my "generous
spontaneity"
marking me in his regard as a
special
person. Imagine! a man rolling in the
snow
being that keenly observant. Well, my first
meeting
with Jung characterized our relation-
ship
for the next 30 years - laughter and learning.
Under
his guidance I took advanced degrees
in
medicine, anthropology, religion, and, of course,
my
years as a Jungian analyst. A footnote to
this
story occurred at Jung's 80th birthday party
in
Kusnacht. I presented him with the fur-
lined
boot that had gotten itself so thoroughly
humped
that day. I dyed the fur silver-gray and
attached
eyes to it and a dog's nose and tail.
"Here
is your Godson, Carl Gustav, to greet you
on
your birthday." Frail as he was, Jung's
laugh
shook the table. "Don't tell me, Heidi, he's
a
Jungian analyst, practices in Hollywood,
and
he's writing my biography from a dog's point
of
view - no doubt, an 'unexpurgated Jung' to
boot."
That broke up the whole table and the
witticisms
started flying! Before I left, and it
was
the last time I saw my beloved friend, Jung
kissed
my hand and said, "If I get to Heaven, Heidi,
I'll
tell the Pomeranian his family has prospered."
That
was Jung, all forgot the original dog but him.
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