Thursday, April 30, 2026: Matt McGee's "Colonel Kurtz Slows to a Stop"

 

Colonel Kurtz Slows to a Stop

Dr. Robert Hudson has seen a lot of patients who’ve said he’s the only person that listens to them. Some accuse him of listening just because he gets paid to do it. Technically that’s true, but he knows he’d do it for free. People have good stories.

Hudson hasn’t owned a television since 2006. He says there’s no point. The stories told in his office are the best entertainment. And Clay Chalmers’ story, he thought, was pretty entertaining.

In their first session Clay told Hudson he didn’t have anyone to listen to his innermost thoughts anymore. His parents had died young, he’d never said how, so Hudson suggested Clay write his thoughts down and send them to himself.

“I don’t really believe in the mail system,” Clay said.

Hudson rolled his eyes.

“Tell the truth, I don’t really believe in listeners anymore either.”

Clay wrote the letter anyway, and the following week he brought it to the office.

“Open it,” the psychologist said.

Clay did and, without hesitation, started reading aloud.

“In the movie Forrest Gump, Forrest goes running for three years. Then one day he slows to a stop in the middle of Utah. There’s a whole group of people behind him and when he stops, they all stop too. And listen. And wait. Finally Forrest says: ‘I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go home now.’”

Clay read on. “I didn’t realize until last night, I’ve been running exactly 25 years. I wasn’t looking for anything. I’ve enjoyed the scenery. But all this time, I thought something scary was going to catch me.”

“You can’t hurt a person in constant motion. I’ve had other relationships. All while running.

The person I originally broke up with has passed away. I didn’t find out about it until years after. No one called me. We’d dated before social media. Still, I’ve kept running out of habit.”

Clay set the letter aside. “So I’ve come to this spot, doc. I’m in the middle of my Utah. On a road in the middle of nowhere. And you know what’s here for me?”

“What.”

“I sincerely don’t know. When Forrest stops he says ‘I think I’ll go home now.’ Well, I don’t have a home. I mean, I’m not homeless. But I’ve looked around. I realize almost everyone I care about is gone. And no one else has come along and taken their place.”

Hudson waited. Patients reveal things on their own.

“I thought if I moved away from the people causing the pain, I could control it. It worked. Mostly. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. You can’t hurt a man in motion.”

“People in motion usually think so,” Hudson said.

“So doc, let’s say I’ve outrun the pain. Let’s say I’ve succeeded. Thing is, now that I’ve stopped in my Forrest Gumpy kinda way, I don’t see any sign yet pointing to a new place.”

“Perhaps a moment of patience. Catalog the places you’ve been. Things you’ve done, people you’ve met.”

“There’ve been a lot of people and places.”

“Do you remember them all?”

Clay nodded. “In my laptop is an almost daily journal. Yeah, I know where I’ve been and who I’ve been with. It’s been quite the journey.”

“Good.”

Clay said “I threw myself into my work back around the time of the break-up. And my career accomplishments kinda went up and up. How much better does it get when a person reaches the top of their field, awards and all that, while having a smorgasbord of lovers and food and art?”

“Not much better than that.”

“And when they feel accomplished,” Clay said, “you know what people usually do?”

Hudson waited.

“They move over and let someone else have their spot. Or sit back and wait.”

“Wait for…” Hudson led.

“The killer.”

Clay expected Hudson to understand.

“You ever see Apocalypse Now?”

Hudson nodded.

“Like that. You settle in. Like Colonel Kurtz. Big ol’ fat Marlon Brando, you wait for the killer to come up the river. Cause he’s coming, baby. He’s on his way.”

“You think if you stand still someone’s going to slaughter you like a sacred cow?”

“I think life has a way of getting us out of the way so someone else can have our spot. Because it’s someone else’s turn.”

“Or,” Hudson suggested, “perhaps someone else is moving out of the way so you can have their spot. Wherever they are, whatever they’ve been doing.”

Clay nodded slowly. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“With life, always eyes open. Always. When new slots become available we’ll know where we’re needed. Where that new home is.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is easy. Like any addiction, stopping’s the hard part. Leaving what’s comfortable and familiar. We outgrow the things we don’t need anymore.”

Clay nodded.

“That’s what Forrest does in that scene,” Hudson said, “he literally realizes he’s done and walks away.”

“Turns and goes home,” Clay said.

“Yep. Wherever home is. And wait. The next place you’re needed will call you. Be ready to answer. Meanwhile, get lots of rest.”

Clay stood. He shook Hudson’s hand. “I will.”

“See you next week.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Clay shrugged. “I may have moved on by then.”

Hudson took a moment, nodded, then smiled.

“I’d like that,” he said.

© Matt McGee