Polly is not real.
Polly exists.
At first
glance, those two statements may appear contradictory. But
think about it for a minute. Santa Claus is not real; no jolly
elf dressed in red and white lives at the North Pole and
commands a cadre of worker elves. Sherlock Holmes is not real;
no cocaine-addicted consulting detective/violinist ever lived
at 221B Baker Street in London. James Bond is not real; no
licensed-to-kill British superspy travels the world seducing
beautiful babes and foiling supervillains.
And yet:
Santa Claus exists; the Strategic Air Command tracks his
progress every Christmas Eve, the Post Office handles tons of
mail for him each year and department stores and malls erect
shrines to his glory. Sherlock Holmes exists; his famous
profile with the deerstalker cap and meerschaum pipe survives
long after John Barrymore, the so-called Great Profile, is
long vanished from memory. James Bond exists; just ask any
movie theater owner, or bartender who's been asked to make a
martini shaken and not stirred.
Polly
exists. She's a concept, a wonderful ideal, a goal to strive
for, a model to live by. She's a god even an atheist can
believe in. She's a symbol of creation and tolerance. You
don't have to worship her to believe in what she represents.
In fact, she'd rather you didn't. There are more important
ways to invest your time and energy.
There's no
Church of Polly. But you can be her friend. She'd like that.
Contents of this page © 2021 by Stephen
Goldin. All Rights Reserved. So there!