Faramir the Fish became a part of our family over a week ago. I won him at the Mountain State Fair! At the time, I felt bad because my 12-year-old son had clearly hoped to do the winning himself. For $5.00, my husband, son, and I received a bucket of ping-pong balls that we attempted to toss into one of numerous tiny fish bowls (the actual fish were kept somewhere else). Only one of our 35 balls actually made it into a bowl. The midway at the fair is one of those places where it pays to be cynical: they’d lose money if the rate of success was much higher than ours.Although my son would have preferred to win the fish himself, he was excited to have a pet again. I’ll probably alienate readers by confessing this, but I’m not much of a pet person. Neither is my husband: his family briefly adopted a cat, but neither of our families ever owned dogs. (My parents used to tell us that we had little sisters instead of dogs—no offense, Lesley and Christie!) I’ve concluded that my disinterest in owning a pet is due to a character flaw—a lack of warmth, or affection, or optimism, or interest in the outside world? Owning a dog might help me work through those issues, but it’s a vicious cycle, since I’m unlikely to ever own a dog. Most of my children have expressed interest in owning a pet. Poor kids! It’s hard to overcome the anti-pet instincts of not one, but two, parents. Our objections largely had to do with expense and care issues; over the past six years, we’ve put two kids through college, and two more are currently in college, so there have been other places for money to go. Add in the inevitable home maintenance costs and the odd car incident, and there goes any extra money. My husband was concerned that he’d wind up being the one who took care of the dog—and what about when we went out of town? So, no dog. My middle son wanted a rabbit, but his timing was off: we’d just had child #5, and I felt overwhelmed with homeschooling four kids and maintaining the much-larger home that we moved to before the baby came.
We have owned fish on and off through the years, though. My husband’s dear grandmother wanted all the great-grandchildren to have one of those betta fish who lived with a lily (remember those?). Mark lived for more than two years! Lion was next: my daughter won him at a school carnival, and he proved fairly long-lived. If Faramir stays around much longer, we’ll haul up the tank from the basement. Merry and Pippin were its last inhabitants; we briefly owned a Frodo, but he went to the Grey Havens before we’d had him long. (Yes, there’s a Tolkien theme; check out this post for more about my Tolkien obsession.)Currently, Faramir inhabits a classic goldfish bowl on the island in our kitchen. At the moment, he only has rocks to keep him company, but, as my daughter pointed out, he might appreciate a plant or two—something he could hide behind. I’m excited that he’s alive, because we’ve heard reports of other fish acquired at the fair that didn’t make it a week. From our previous fish experience, we knew to use distilled water rather than water from the tap: maybe that’s helping? Or maybe it’s the devotion from my son? While I’m not thrilled about pets, I am thrilled about the name that my son chose: Faramir, continuing the Tolkien tradition. His name could be spelled “Fairamir,” as a nod to his place of origin, but I’d rather be accurate than cute. David picked the name “Faramir” in gratitude for my winning the fish (we were down to our last five balls when I made the lucky toss). Faramir is possibly my favorite character from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy (turns out he was Tolkien’s favorite as well). It’s hard to pick a favorite LOTR character when there are so many good options: Frodo, with his desire to do the right thing and his openness about his weakness; Sam, whose folksy comments and sturdy courage get him and his master through many a dark moment; crusty Gandalf, whose bark is much worse than his bite; Éowyn, a feminist trapped in the wrong time and place; and, of course, Aragorn, the humble, healing would-be king who veils his glory in the tattered garments of a ranger.
Faramir, the undervalued younger son of Denethor, proud steward of Gondor, is more approachable than Aragon, although he resembles him in his humility, patience, and wisdom. Both soldier and scholar, Faramir takes a chance on the halflings that he encounters on the borders of Mordor, even though he suspects that his father will not approve of his assisting Frodo rather than dragging him back to Minas Tirith. Without the respite that Frodo and Sam received under Faramir’s care, would they have had the strength to complete their task? In fact, Sam uses the staff that he was given by Faramir to whack Gollum, when Gollum finally betrays them to Shelob. And what a resolution to Éowyn’s heartbreak: ultimately, she and Faramir, both convalescing in the Houses of Healing, find one another; Faramir’s kindness and love melt the bitter frost of the shieldmaiden of Rohan.Yes, David could hardly have chosen a better name than Faramir for our new fish. Initially, I was excited about Faramir’s black patches, since those in the service of Gondor wear black-and-silver livery. When my daughter heard me comparing our goldfish’s black spots to Gondorian armor, she said, “Mom, I hadn’t wanted to tell you this, but David and I think Faramir is developing more black spots. He may have ammonia poisoning.” Oh, dear. I did some research, and it appears that she is right: before he came to us, Faramir was apparently kept in a waste-filled tank and was burned. The black patches mean that he is healing, but we should not overfeed him, and we need to change his water several times a week (at least as long as he is living in the little bowl). For Faramir, every day of life is a miracle. Actually, that is true for all of us. May I make the most of having life today!