[¹ø¿ª] Àå¾ÖÀÎÀ» À§ÇÑ »õ·Î¿î Èñ¸Á¨ç

 

 

 

 

³ª´Â Çҷζõ Á¾ÇÕ º´¿ø¿¡ ÀÔ¿øÇÏ°í ÀÖ´Â ÇϹݽŠÀå¾ÖÀÚÀÎ Á¸ Å©¶ó¿îÀÌ´Ù. ³» À°Ã¼Àû »óó´Â Á¤½ÅÀû »óó¿¡ ºñÇÏ¸é ¾ÆÁÖ ÀÛÀº °ÍÀÌ´Ù. Á×À» °íºñ¸¦ ³Ñ¾î ´õ ÀÌ»ó »ì°í ½ÍÁö ¾ÊÀº ¼¼»óÀ¸·Î µ¹¾Æ¿Í ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ´Ù. µ¶Àç·ÎºÎÅÍ ÀÌ ¼¼°è¸¦ ±¸Çϱâ À§ÇÑ À§´ëÇÑ ÀüÀïÀ̾ú´ø 2Â÷ ¼¼°è ´ëÀü¿¡ Âü°¡Çß°í ÀÌ ¸ñÀûÀ» À§Çؼ­ ÇÔ²² ½Î¿ì´Ù Á׾ µ¿·áµéÀ» ÁöÄÑ º¸¾Æ¾ß Çß´ø ³ª´Â, Áö±Ý ÀÌ ¼¼»ó¿¡¼­³ª ÀÌ ³ª¶ó¿¡¼­µµ ÆòÈ­¸¦ ¹ß°ßÇÒ ¼ö°¡ ¾ø´Ù.

My name is John Crown. I am a paraplegia at Halloran General Hospital. My physical wounds are very small in comparison with very spiritual wounds. I have come back from death to a world that I no longer care for. I, who have been engaged in the great struggle to save the world from tyranny and having seen my comrades die for this cause, can new find no peace in the world or in my country.

Áö³­ 2³âÀ» Á×À» °íºñ¸¦ ³Ñ±â¸ç »ì¾Æ ¿À¸é¼­ ÀÌ ¼¼»ó¿¡ ¿Ö ÆòÈ­°¡ ¾ø´Â°¡¸¦ »ý°¢ÇØ ¿Ô´Ù. ±× ÀÌÀ¯¶õ ³Ê¹«³ªµµ »ç¼ÒÇÏ´Ù´Â °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù. ·¯½Ã¾Æ´Â ´Ù´Ù³ÚÁî ÇØÇùÀ» Â÷ÁöÇÏ·Á°í ÇÏ°í, À¯°í½½·Îºñ¾Æ´Â Æ®¸®¿¡½ºÆ®¶õ ¶¥µ¢¾î¸®¸¦ Â÷ÁöÇÏ·Á°í ÇÏ°í, ¸ð½½·½(ȸ±³µµ)Àº Àεµ¸¦ Â÷ÁöÇÏ·Á°í ÇÏ°í ÀÖÀ¸¸ç, ³ëµ¿ÀÚ´Â ´õ ¸¹Àº ÀÓ±ÝÀ» ¿øÇÏ°í, ÀÚº»°¡´Â ´õ ¸¹Àº ÀÌÀ±À» ¿øÇÏ°í, ½º¹Ì½º¶õ »ç¶÷Àº Àڱ⠾տ¡ ÀÖ´Â Â÷°¡ ¾î¼­ Áö³ª°¡ Áֱ⸦ ¹Ù¶ó¸ç, ÀþÀºÀÌ´Â µ·À» ´õ ¸¹ÀÌ ¾²°í ½Í¾îÇÑ´Ù. ÀÌ·± ÇÏÂúÀº ´ë°¡¸¦ À§Çؼ­ »ç¶÷À» Á×ÀÌ°í ºÒ±¸·Î ¸¸µé¾î¾ß ÇÏ´ÂÁö ¹¯°í ½Í´Ù.

Having lived close to death for two years, the reasons why there is no peace seem infinitesimally flimsy. Russia wants the Dardanelles, Yugoslavia wands Trieste, the Moslems want India, labor wants more wages, capitol wants more profit, Smith wants to pass the car in front of him, Junior wants more spending money. To these, I say, is it necessary to kill and cripple human beings for these petty gains?

»ç¶÷ÀÇ ¸öÀÌ ¶¥ ÇÑ µ¢¾î¸®À̳ª µ· ¸î Ǭ, ¶Ç´Â ¸î ºÐÀÇ ½Ã°£À» À§Çؼ­ ³²Àº »ý¾Ö µ¿¾ÈÀ» ¹ã³·À¸·Î ³»¾ß ÇÏ´Â Á×¾î °¡´Â µíÇÑ ½ÅÀ½ ¼Ò¸®¸¦ µéÀ¸¸ç »ì¾Æ¾ß ÇÒ ¸¸Å­ °ª½Ñ °ÍÀÎÁö ¾Æ¹«µµ »ý°¢ÇÏÁö ¾Ê´Â °Í °°´Ù.

Anyone who thinks a human body is so cheap that it can be traded for a tract of land, a piece of silver, or a few minutes of time should be forced to listen to the moans of the dying night and day for the rest of his life.

ÀÌ ¼¼»óÀÇ ¸ðµç ¹®Á¦µéÀº º¸Åë »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô¼­ ºñ·ÔµÈ´Ù. ³ª¶óµé »çÀÌÀÇ À̱âÀûÀÌ°í ¿å½É »ç³ª¿î ½À¼ºÀº °¢ °³ÀεéÀÇ ½À¼ºÀÌ ¼ö ¹é¹è·Î ÁõÆøµÈ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. º¸Åë »ç¶÷µéÀÇ µµ´öÀÌ ¶³¾îÁú ¶§ ±¹°¡³ª ¼¼»óÀÇ µµ´öµµ ¶³¾îÁö´Â ¹ýÀÌ´Ù.

All the troubles of the world originate in the common man. The selfish and greedy ways of nations are just the ways of each individual man multiplied a hundredfold. When the morals of the common man drop, so do the morals of the nation arid of the world.

°¢ °³ÀεéÀÇ µµ´öÀÌ ¼èÅð±â¿¡ ¸Ó¹°¾î ÀÖ´Â ÇÑ ÀÌ ¼¼»óµµ ±×·¯ÇÒ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ¿ì¸® °¢ÀÚ°¡ ÀÚ±â Â÷·Î µµ·Î¸¦ µ¶Á¡ÇÏ·Á°í ½Î¿ì°í, ¹ö½º¿¡¼­ ÀÚ¸®¸¦ Â÷ÁöÇÏ·Á°í ´ÙÅõ°í, ¼­·Î ¹Ý¹ÚÀ» ÀÏ»ï´Â ³íÀïÀ» ±×Ä¡Áö ¾Ê´Â ÇÑ, ¼¼»ó¿¡´Â ÆòÈ­¶õ ¾øÀ» °ÍÀÌ´Ù. Àηù°¡ ÆòÈ­¸¦ ´Ù½Ã ¹Ù¶õ´Ù¸é °¡Àå Å« °è¸íÀ¸·Î µ¹¾Æ°¡¾ß¸¸ ÇÑ´Ù. "Çϳª´ÔÀÇ »ç¶ûÀ¸·Î ³× ÀÌ¿ôÀ» ³× ¸ö°ú °°ÀÌ »ç¶ûÇ϶ó"

As long as our individual morals remain 9t low ebb, so will be the world. Until each of us stops "hogging the road" wish his car, stops fighting over the seat on the bus, stops arguing over why is going to cut the grass, there will be no peace in the world. If man wishes peace again, he must return to the great Commandment, "Love thy neighbor as thyself for the love of God."

À§ÀÇ ±ÛÀº 1946³â 10¿ù 20ÀÏÀÚ ´º¿å ŸÀÓÁî¿¡ ³­ Çҷζõ Á¾ÇÕ º´¿ø¿¡ ÀÔ¿ø ÁßÀÎ »óÀÌ ¿ë»ç, Á¸ Å©¶ó¿îÀÇ °ßÇØÀÌ´Ù. ¹ßÇà ÈÄ ÇÑ ÁÖÀÏ µ¿¾È ¸¹Àº ÆíÁö¿Í ÀüÈ­¸¦ ¹ÞÀ¸¸ç, Á¸ Å©¶ó¿îÀÌ ´©±¸³Ä? ±× ¹Û¿¡µµ ¶Ç ¾´ °ÍÀÌ ÀÖ´À³Ä? ±×¿¡ ´ëÇØ Á»´õ ¸»ÇØ ÁÙ ¼ö ÀÖ´À³Ä?´Â Áú¹®µµ ¹Þ¾Ò´Ù.

The Above, printed without comment in The New York Times on October 20, 1946, were the views of John Crown, a disabled veteran who was a patient at Halloran Hospital. In the week after its publication, many letters were received, as well as many telephone calls, asking, "Who is John Crown? Has he written anything else? Can you tell me more about him?"

Á¸ Å©¶ó¿îÀº 1942³â, Á÷ÀåÀ» ±×¸¸ µÎ°í ÀÔ´ëÇß´ø »ç¶÷µé °¡¿îµ¥ ÇÑ »ç¶÷ÀÌ´Ù. ÀüÀï Áß, Ȧ¶õµð¾Æ(Àεµ³×½Ã¾ÆÀÇ ºÏµ¿ºÎ Ç×±¸ ÄÚÅ͹ٷçÀÇ ¿¾ Áö¸í:¿ªÁÖ)¿¡¼­ ÁöÇÁ Â÷ »ç°í·Î ôÃ߸¦ ´ÙÃļ­ ÇϹݽÅÀÌ ¸¶ºñµÇ¾ú´Ù. 2³â µ¿¾ÈÀ» º´»ó¿¡ °¤Èù ä, »ý°¢ÇÏ´Â °Í ¸»°í´Â ¾Æ¹« °Íµµ ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ¿©·¯ ´Þ µ¿¾ÈÀ» °íÅ뽺·± Àڱ⠺м®À» ÇàÇÑ ³ë·Â ³¡¿¡ "ÀÚ½ÅÀÌ ´À³¤ ´ë·Î Ç¥Çö"À» ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù.

John Crown was one of the men who left his job in 1942 to enter the Army. During the war, his back was broken in a jeep accident in Hollandia, and he was paralyzed from the waist down. In the two years he was confined to bed in a hospital, he was unable to do much but think, and after months of painful, soul-searching effort, he was able to express "how he felt."

ÀÌ À̾߱â´Â ±×°¡ ÇàÇÑ ¹Ù¿¡ ´ëÇÑ À̾߱â´Ù. Çҷζõ º´¿ø¿¡ ´©¿ö ÀÖ´ø ±× ÇØ °Ü¿ï, ¿ì¸®°¡ ¶È°°Àº ³× º®¸¸À» ¹Ù¶óº¸¸é¼­ 2³âÀ» º¸³½ ÈÄ¿¡ °¡Áö°Ô µÉ Àλý¿¡ ´ëÇØ ±× °°Àº ¼ºÂûÀ» ÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´ø °ÍÀÌ´Ù. Áï ÈÙü¾î³ª º´»ó¿¡¼­, ¶Ç´Â ÃÖ¼±ÀÇ °æ¿ì Ŭ·¯Ä¡¸¦ ¤°í »ç´Â Á¸Àç°¡ µÇ¾î¼­ ¿ì¸® ´Ù¸®¿¡ Èûµµ °¨°¢µµ ¾øÀÌ ÀλýÀ» ¸í»óÇÏ°Ô µÈ´Ù¸é ¿ì¸® ´ëºÎºÐÀÌ ±×·¯ÇÑ »ý°¢À» ÇÏ°Ô µÉ °ÍÀÌ´Ù. ±×·Î ÀÎÇؼ­ ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ °úµµÇÑ Àå¾ÖÀÇ Ãæ°Ý¿¡ ¼Ò¸êµÇ¾úÀ» °Í °°¾Ò´ø ±×¿¡°Ô »î¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¿­¸Á°ú µ¿±âºÎ¿©ÀÇ ºÒ²ÉÀÌ ÀϾ ÀÇ»ç¿Í ÀçÈ° Àü¹®°¡µéÀÌ Á¸°ú ²ÙÁØÈ÷ ÀçÈ° °úÁ¤À» ¼öÇàÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ°Ô ÇØÁÖ¾ú´Ù. 

This is the story of how he did it. that winter, while he tar in Halloran Hospital, he ?ad the same outlook on life that you and I might have after spending two years looking at the same four walls- the outlook most of us would have if we were without power or sensation in our legs, and contemplated life in a wheel chair or hospital bed or, at best, a "crutch life" existence. The doctors and rehabilitation specialists had worked diligently with John, but the spark of ambition and motivation in him seemed to have been extinguished by the overpowering impact of his disability.

°°Àº Àå¾Ö·Î °í»ýÇÏ°í ÀÖ´Â Àð´Ï¸¦ ÁöÄѺ¸´Â »ç¶÷µéÀº, ±×°¡ Èû¾ø´Â ´Ù¸®¿¡ ±³Á¤±â(braces)¸¦ ºÎÂøÇÑ Ã¤ Ŭ·¯Ä¡¸¦ ¤°í¼­ ±æ°í Áö·çÇÑ °ÉÀ½¸¶ ¿¬½ÀÀ» ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» º¸¸é¼­ ÁøÁ¤ÇÑ Àγ»¸¦ ¹è¿ì°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. Àð´Ï¿¡°Ô ÀÛº° Àλ縦 ÇÏ°í¼­ ¸¹Àº »ç¶÷µéÀÌ º´¿øÀ» ¶°³ª°¬´Ù. ±× »ç¶÷µéÀº ½ÉÇÑ Àå¾Ö¿¡µµ °¡´ÉÇÑ º¸Åë »ç¶÷µéó·³ »ì·Á°í ÀÇÁö°¡ ÀÖ¾úÁö¸¸ Àð´Ï¿¡°Ô´Â ±×·± ÀÇÁöÀÇ ºÒ²ÉÀÌ ÀϾÁö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ´ÜÁö ±×°Ç ½Ã°£ ¹®Á¦¿¡ ºÒ°úÇß´Ù. ±×´Â 70 ÆÄ¿îµå(31.5kg)ÀÇ ¸ö¹«°Ô·Î ½ÃÀÛÇß´Ù.

Other men in the ward with Johnny, who suffered the same disability, had learned by sheer fortitude and long, tedious hours of training to walk on crutches, with their powerless limbs held rigid by braces. Many came to tell Johnny good-by as they left the hospital. Severely disabled physically, ther had the will to live as much like other men as Possible, but the spark in Johnny did not kindle. His weight fell to seventy pounds; it seemed to he merely a matter of time.

¾î´À ³¯ Àû½ÊÀÚÀÇ ºÀ»çÀÚÀÎ ±×·¹ÀÌ ºÎÀÎÀº Àð´Ï¿Í ÀÏ»óÀûÀÎ Â÷Æ®¸¦ ±â·ÏÇÏ´Ù°¡, º´¿øÀ» ¶°³ª ÁýÀ¸·Î °£ »ç¶÷µé, ºÎ·çŬ¸°¿¡ ÀÖ´Â Àð´ÏÀÇ Áý, ±×¸®°í Àð´Ï Àڽſ¡ ´ëÇØ À̾߱⸦ ÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â "³»°¡ Àü¿¡ ÀÛ°¡°¡ µÇ°í ½Í´Ù°í »ý°¢Çß¾ú´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾Æ½ÃÁÒ. ¸¶ºñ »óÅ°¡ ÀÛ°¡°¡ µÇ´Â µ¥ ºÒÆíÇÏÁö´Â ¾ÊÀ» °ÍÀ̶ó°í »ý°¢ÇϼÌÁÒ. ±×·¡¼­ ´ç½ÅÀº ¸»ÇØ¾ß ÇÒ °ÍÀ» »ý°¢ÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ°í »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô ¸»Çϱ⸸ ÇÏ¸é µÈ´Ù°í ÇϼÌÁÒ."¶ó°í ¸»Çß´Ù. ±× ºÎÀÎÀº ±×°¡ ¹«¾ùÀÌµç ½áº¸¶ó°í ÇßÁö¸¸, Àð´Ï´Â ¸Ó¸®¸¦ Èçµé¸ç "°íµîÇб³ ¶§ ÀÛ°¡°¡ µÇ¾úÀ¸¸é Çß¾úÁö¸¸, ±×·¯Áö ¸øÇß¾î¿ä."¶ó¸ç ´ë´äÇß´Ù.

One day, a Red Cross Gray Lady stopped for her daily chat with Johnny. They talked about the men who had left the ward to go home, about Johnny's home in Brooklyn, and about Johnny himself."You know," he said, "I was thinking the other day I wish I were a writer. Being paralyzed wouldn't be so bad if you were a writer. You could just think up things to say, and then say them."The lady asked if he had done any writing, but Johnny shook his read. "No, when I Was in high school I thought once I would like to write, but I never did," he answered.

±×·¯³ª ±× ºÎÀÎÀº ±×¿¡°Ô ¼Ò°³ÇØ ÁÙ »ç¶÷ÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù°í ¸»Çß´Ù. ±× ³¯ Àú³á, Àð´Ï´Â [ÀçÇâ ±ºÀÎ ÀÛ°¡ µ¿¿ìȸ](Veterans Authors' Workshop)ÀÇ ¼³¸³ÀÚÀÎ Ç¿¡Å¸ »þ·ÐÀ» ¸¸³µ´Ù. ±×³à´Â Àð´Ï¿¡°Ô ÀÌ µ¿¿ìȸ´Â Ã¥¿¡ ³¾ ÀڷḦ ¸ðÀ¸´Â µ¿¾È ¾ßÀü º´¿øÀÇ È¯ÀÚ °¡¿îµ¥ ±ÛÀ» ¾²´Â °Í¿¡ °ü½ÉÀÌ ÀÖ´Â »ç¶÷µéÀ» ¹ß°ßÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾î¼­ ½ÃÀÛÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù°í ¼³¸íÇØ ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. [¿ù°£ ´ë¼­¾ç]ÁöÀÇ Àü ÆíÁýÀÎ µµ·Î½Ã º¸À̽º¿Í 1Â÷ ¼¼°è ´ëÀüÀÇ ÀçÇâ ±ºÀÎ ÀÛ°¡ ¾Æ´õ »õ°³Æ®, ±×¸®°í Çҷζõ º´¿ø¿¡ ÀÖ¾ú´ø ·¤ÇÁ ÆåÀ» ¼Ò°³ÇØ ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×µéÀº Àú¼ú¿¡ °üÇؼ­ À̾߱âÇØ ÁÖ¸ç, ¸î ÁÙÀ» ¹Þ¾Æ ½áº¸¶ó°í Çß´Ù. ±×´Â ÇÑ ¹®´ÜÀ» ¹Þ¾Æ¾²°í´Â ¹®¹ýÀÌ Æ²·È±â ¶§¹®¿¡ ´çȤ½º·¯¿ö º¯¸íÀ» ÇØ¾ß Çß´Ù. ±×µéÀº ±×¸¦ °Ý·ÁÇØ ÁÖ°í ´Ù½Ã ¿À°Ú´Ù°í Çß´Ù. 

The Red Cross worker told him there was someone the wanted him to meet. "I will bring her around and introduce you to her," she said. That evening, Johnny met Henrietta Bruce Sharon, founder and organizer of the Veterans Authors' Workshop.
She told Johnny that the workshop had started as a result of an interest in creative writing she had found among patient in military hospitals whill gathering material for a book. She introduced him to Dorothy Boyce, a former editor of the Atlantic Monthly: Arthur Sagat, writer-veteran of World War I; and Ralph Peck, an ex-Halloral Patient They talked to him about Writing, and asked him to set down a few sentences. Embarrassed and apologetic for his grammatical errors, he dictated a paragraph. They encouraged him, and said they would be back again.

¾î´À ³¯ Àú³á¿¡ µ¿¿ìȸ ȸ¿øµéÀÌ Àð´ÏÀÇ º´½Ç¿¡ ¿ÔÀ» ¶§ ±×´Â ¼Ò¼³ °ßº»À» º¸¿© ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. ¹Ì½º »þ·ÐÀº µÇµ¹·Á ÁÖ¸ç "½â ÁÁÁö ¾ÊÀº µ¥¿ä. ±×·¯³ª ¿ì¸° ÀÌ ±Û¿¡ °ü½ÉÀÌ ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï ¿¹¿ä. ³ª´Â Àð´Ï°¡ ¿©·¯ Â÷·Ê ´Ù½Ã ½è´Ù´Â °ÍÀ» ¾Ë ¼ö ÀÖ¾î¿ä. Áß¿äÇÑ °Ç Àû¾îµµ Àð´Ï°¡ Áö³­ ÁÖ¿¡ °ü½ÉÀ» °®°í ÀÖ´ø °Í¿¡ ´ëÇؼ­ ½è´Ù´Â °ÍÀÔ´Ï´Ù."

On another evening, when the workshop members arrived at the paraplegic ward, Johnny had a sample of fiction. "It wasn't vet good," Miss Sharon recalled, "but that was not what we were interested in then. I could see Johnny had rewritten the page sever times. At least he had had something to do the past week in which he was interested."

±×°ÍÀÌ ½ÃÀÛÀ̾ú´Ù. ¸Å ÁÖÀÏ ±×·ì ¹ÌÆÃÀÌ À̾îÁö¸é¼­, º¸ÇàÀÌ °¡´ÉÇÑ È¯ÀÚµéÀ» À§ÇÑ µ¿¿ìȸ°¡ °è¼ÓµÇ¾ú´Ù. À¯¸íÇÑ ÀÛ°¡¿Í ÆíÁýÀεéÀÌ È¯ÀÚµé°ú ´ëÈ­¸¦ ³ª´©¸ç ±×µéÀÇ ³ë·ÂÀ» ÆòÇØ ÁÖ¾ú°í, ±×µé ¸î¸îÀº Àð´Ï¸¦ ¸¸³ª·Á ¿Ô´Ù. ±×·¡¼­ µ¿¿ìȸ ȸ¿øµé°ú Á¸ Çã½Ã, ¾îÀ© ¼î¿Í °°Àº À¯¸íÇÑ ¼Õ´ÔµéÀÌ Ã£¾Æ¿À´Â ¼ö¿äÀÏ ¹ãÀ» ±â´Ù¸®¸ç ±×¿¡°Ô °ü½ÉÀ̶õ °ÍÀÌ ÀϾ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. Àð´Ï°¡ °ü½ÉÀ» °®°Ô µÇ¸é¼­, ±×¿¡ ´ëÇÑ Áø·á Â÷Æ®¿¡ ÀÇ»çµéÀº ³«°üÀûÀ¸·Î ±â·ÏÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù.

That was the start. Week after week, following the group meeting the workshop held for ambulatory patients, where well-known writers and editors talked with patients and criticized their efforts, some of them went to see Johnny. His interest was aroused, and he looked forward to the Wednesday-night visits with the workshop group and their guests, such as John Hersey, Irwin Shaw, Hervey Allen, Rex Stout, John Mason Brown, Emily Hahn, Joe McCarthy and Myer Berger. Johnny became interested, and the prognosis notes made by the doctors on his chart became more optimistic.

¹æ¹®ÀÌ ½ÃÀÛµÈ ÀÌÈÄ ¸î ´ÞÀÌ Áö³ªÁö ¾Ê¾Æ¼­, ¸¶Ä§³» Àð´Ï´Â ÈÙü¾î¸¦ Ÿ°í ±×·ì ¹ÌÆÿ¡ Âü°¡ÇÏ°Ô µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ´õ¿í ¿­Á¤ÀûÀÌ µÇ¾î °¬°í, °°Àº º´µ¿ÀÇ ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µé¿¡°Ô Âü¼®Çϱ⸦ ±ÇÀ¯Çß´Ù. "¾²´Â °Í¿¡ °ü½ÉÀÌ ¾ø´õ¶óµµ ÀÌ º´½ÇÀ» ¹þ¾î³¯ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â ÁÁÀº ÀÏ ¾Æ´Ï¾ß. ÀÚ³×ÀÇ ¿©»ýÀ» ÀڽŠ¼Ó¿¡´Ù °¡µÎ¾î µÐ ä·Î º¸³»°í ¸» ¼ö´Â ¾øÁö ¾Ê³ª. ÀÌÁ¦ ½ÃÀÛÇÏ°Ô."¶ó¸é¼­.

Finally, a few months after the visits started in January, Johnny attended one of the group meetings in a wheel chair. He became even more enthusiastic, and urged the other men of the paraplegic ward to attend. "Even if you don't care about writing," he argued, "its good for you to get out of this ward. You can't spend the rest your life cooped up by yourself. Come on over."

¸î »ç¶÷¸¸ ³ª°¬À» »ÓÀÌÁö¸¸, ´ëºÎºÐÀº Àð´Ï¿¡°Ô ÀϾ º¯È­¿¡ ³»½ÉÀ¸·Î ±â»µÇß´Ù. 1946³â 10¿ù Àð´Ï´Â Åð¿øÇß´Ù. Àû½ÊÀÚÀÇ ºÀ»çÀÚÀÎ ±×·¹ÀÌ ºÎÀΰú ÀçÇâ ±ºÀÎ ÀÛ°¡ µ¿¿ìȸ ȸ¿øµéÀÌ Àǻ簡 ó¹æÇØ ÁÙ ¼ö ¾ø´Â Áß¿äÇÑ °ÍÀ» ÇØ ÁÖ¾ú´ø °ÍÀÌ´Ù. Áï µ¿±âºÎ¿©, »ì°Ú´Ù´Â ÀÇÁö, °¡´ÉÇÑ ÇÑ µ¶¸³ÀûÀ¸·Î »ì¾Æ º¸·Á´Â ÀÇÁö ¸»ÀÌ´Ù.

Some men went, but most of them smiled inwardly at the clean, that had come over Johnny. In October 1946, he left the hospital. The Red Cross Gray lady and the members of the Veterans Authors' Workshop had provided something important that no doctor can give by prescription-motivation, the will to live, the will to live as independently as possible.

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