by Barbara Branden

I have often thanked Michael Kelly privately for everything he’s done for me, but it’s time I thanked him publicly, and time I told those of you who are not familiar with his activities something about this remarkable man.

I did not know Michael until he appeared one day on Solo, long before the present hysteria, and wrote a very beautiful post thanking me for “The Passion of Ayn Rand,” and explaining that it had been of great value to him at a crucial time in his life. I was very pleased that this was so, as I told him, and I assumed that that was the end of it. It was not the end of it. I have learned that if Michael feels someone has helped him, he will return the help many times over. And that is what he has done for me.

There was a period of some months when Solo rang with praises for my biography of Rand– yes, much of it from people who are now denouncing it and me — but later, when I criticized Perigo for his rudeness and endless hysterical damnations of innocent people, when I defended an old friend against Perigo’s malice, when I sanctioned James Kilbourne’s article “The Drooling Beast” because I believed Perigo would not have published if he did not agree with it, the tide quickly turned. I was not startled by Perigo’s about-face; I had seen it many times before with other people whom he first praised and then damned, and I had had no doubt that his basic hostility would one day be directed against me should I ever cross him, but I was startled by the sycophancy that caused many people on Solo to become his clones. I had expected better of those who called themselves Objectivists.

When I left Solo, unwilling to sanction by my presence a debate on my integrity, and feeling that so long as I remained I would be swimming in a sewer of malice, Michael had taken up the battle that I was too disgusted any longer to fight. Many of you know what the results have been for him. He has become an equal victim of the brutish behavior on Solo and Noodlefood, the butt of Perigo’s ugliest spite and hatred; but he continued to stand firm as a rock in defense of those who were not there to defend themselves. He has fought not only for me, but for everyone and everything he values and who are being vilified: for Nathaniel, for The Objectivist Center, for David Kelley, among many others, and now for Chris Sciabarra, the latest victim of the campaign of lies and distortions. And with Kat’s invaluable help, he has created Objectivist Living, where people of good will can meet and exchange ideas in an atmosphere free of acrimony.

I have often told him that it’s enough, that he has his own important work to do, that he should return to it and leave the haters to stew in their own bile, but it became clear to me that he would not do so as long as there still were things he wanted to say and people he wanted to defend.

Many years ago, I wrote a novel called “Price No Object.” It’s theme was loyalty to values, a trait exemplified by the heroine of the novel who continued to fight for her values no matter what price she had to pay, no matter what the odds against her. For her, price was no object. The novel could have been dedicated to Michael Kelly.

Thank you, my friend. It is now I who am in your debt.

First published on Objectivist Living on April 29, 2006.

The following diddley is based on an email I wrote to Barbara Branden. I am keeping her name on it because the image of the “little green man in a tuxedo” is hers. I have tidied it up and added to it quite a bit since that email. It should be read as if it were a letter that was not sent immediately with a PS tacked on a few days later. Unfortunately, all of the dentistry details actually happened.

September 10, 2007

Dear Barbara,

It is funny you asked about how my toothache was because earlier today I returned to the dentist.

I had a molar on my bottom right side extracted last Wednesday. It was not an easy extraction because the dentist (a very nice man) had to saw—then split—the tooth in two and extract each half separately. The whole thing took about a half-an-hour after the pulling started (prefaced by a half-hour or so for the X-ray and the anesthetic to take). That’s a 30 minute build-up followed by another full half-hour of fun and games while the good doctor played tug of war with my tooth. (Push with one thing that looked like a nail with a wooden handle. Jab with another. Poke with another. Wiggle with pliers then PULL. Twist and PULL. Grunt. PULL. Grunt. PULL. Stop. Say, “Hmm. Looks like we need to do a bit more.” Repeat the entire procedure over and over and over. Then saw the tooth in half with a small automatic circular saw. Then do the entire procedure a few more times.) It was a barrel of laughs. All the while a nurse hovered over me with a suction tube like a Guardian Angel. She expressed concern and empathy and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

After the tooth came out, I spent a couple of days OK, then a little green man in a tuxedo came and sat on my shoulder and said, “Welcome to hell.” Since the dentist was closed over the weekend, I just had to make peace with the little green man. The pain came in waves and it was very intense. I managed to take some of the stronger pain medication and anti-inflammatory pills left over from my knee operation (I did that twice) in addition to gobbling ibuprofen like M&M’s and cuddling an ice-pack as if it were my dearest long-lost love. That helped some, but not much.

If I have seemed grumpy lately, that is the reason.

Today I went back to the dentist and there were two problems. The first is that a bone chip had lodged into my gum during the extraction and it was probably infecting the gum. It was a splinter stuck in right beside where the extraction had been made. But it was a sliver of broken tooth instead of wood.

The second problem is what they call a dry socket. This means that the blood clot on top of the jaw bone washed off and the bone was exposed. There is a hole in my gum where the root once was. It will eventually grow together, but for now, it is open. At the bottom of this hole is where the bone was exposed. I was told that this is inherently painful. I can confirm this.

The dentist (a very nice lady this time) removed the tooth splinter, cut the flesh inside the hole to make it bleed and form a new clot, and put some medication on top of the clot in the hole with a gauze wad. I have to go back on Wednesday so the very-nice-man-dentist can see everything. I also have to take penicillin for 10 days, so I know an infection was apparent. (My gum had started swelling up pretty noticeably.)

At this very moment the anesthetic has worn off and I feel no pain. I have bid adieu to the little green man, sticking my tongue out at him as he left, and am now in that heaven where relief feels like pleasure. I think the pain problem is over. All I have to do is obey the master’s instruction (THE ORIXÁ ORTHO-UGA-UGA) and take my pills.

I hope you do not have to go through anything like this with your dentist appointment.

Yours,

Michael

PS (September 13): I spoke too soon. The day after I wrote the above, the little green man in a tuxedo came back and said, “You shouldn’t have stuck your tongue out at me.” He brought Waves of Pain with him.

I have now been back to the dentist and received more medicine on a gauze plug shoved down into the hole in my gum. This helps a bit with the pain and the little green man goes out for a stroll, but he always comes back. I have been noting that the pain’s intensity is slowly decreasing and the intervals between the waves of attack are increasing. I have to go back to the dentist a couple more times for more hole-plugging.

It will end someday. I know it will. For the time being, the little green man just popped back in, tuxedo and all. I took out the deck of Cards of Fate and put them on the table.

“You deal,” I said. And I kept my tongue in my mouth.

First published on Objectivist Living on September 14, 2007 here.