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2021年2月9日发(作者：awkward)

Lesson One

The Company in Which I work

By Joseph Heller

Text

In

the

company

in

which

I

work

,

each

of

us

is

afraid

of

at

least

one

person .

The

lower

your

position is , the more people you are afraid of . And all the people are afraid of the twelve men at

the top who helped found and build the company and now own and direct it .

All these twelve men are elderly now and drained by time and success of energy and ambition .

Many have spent their whole lives here .They seem friendly ,slow , and content when I come upon

them

in

the

halls

and

always

courteous

and

mute

when

they

ride

with

others

in

the

public

elevators .

They

no

longer

work

hard .They

hold

meetings

,

make

promotions,

and

allow

their

names to be used on announcements that are prepared and issued by somebody else . Nobody is

sure anymore who really runs the company ( not even the people who are credited with running

it ) , but the company does run .

In the normal course of a business day …I am afraid of Jack Green be

cause my department is part

of his department and Jack Green is my boss Green is afraid of me because most of the work in

my department is done for the Sales Department , which is more important than his department ,

and I am much closer to Andy Kagle and the other people in the Sales Department than he is .

Green

distrusts

me

fitfully .He

makes

it

clear

to

me

every

now

and

then

that

he

wishes

to

see

everything coming out of my department before it is shown to other departments .I know he does

not really mean this : he is too busy with his own work to pay that much attention to all of mine ,

and

I

will

bypass

him

on

most

of

our

assignments

rather

than

take

up

his

time

and

delay

their

delivery

to

people

who

have

an

immediate

need

for

them .

Most

of

the

work

we

do

in

my

department

is

,

in

the

long

run,

trivial .

But

Green

always

grows

alarmed

when

someone

from

another department praises something that has come from my department . He turns scarlet with

rage and embarrassment is he has not seen or heard of it .

In

my department ,

there are six people who are afraid of

me , and one small secretary who is

afraid of all of us . I have one other person working for me who is not afraid of me who is not

afraid of anyone , not even me , and I would fire him quickly

, but I?m afraid of him …

The people in the company who are most afraid of most people are the salesmen . They live and

work

under

pressure

that

is

extraordinary

.

When

things

are

bad

,

they

are

worse

for

the

salesmen when things are good , they are not much better .

They

are

always

on

trial

,

always

on

the

verge

of

failure

,

collectively

and

individually .

They

strain, even the most secure and self assured of them , to look good on paper and there is much

paper for them to look good on . Each week , for example , a record of the sales results of the

preceding week for each sales office and for the Sales Department as a whole for each division of

the

company

is

kept

and

compared

to

the

sales

results

for

the

corresponding

week

of

the

year

before . The figures are photocopied and distributed throughout the company to all the people and

departments whose work is related to selling . The result of the photocopying and distributing is

that

there

is

almost

continuous

public

scrutiny

and

discussion

throughout

the

company

of

how

well or poorly the salesmen in each sales office of each division of the company are doing at any

given time .

When salesmen are doing well , there is pressure upon them to begin doing better , for fear they

may start doing worse . When they are doing poorly , they are doing terribly . When a salesman

lands a large order or brings in an important new account , his elation is brief , for there is danger

he might lose that large order or important new account to a salesman from a competing company

the next time around . It might even be canceled before it is filled , in which case no one is certain

if anything was gained or lost . So there is crisis and alarm even in their triumphs .

Nevertheless

,

the

salesmen

love

their

work

and

would

not

choose

any

other

kind .

They

are

vigorous , fun-loving bunch when they are not suffering abdominal cramps or brooding miserably

about the future on the other hand , they often turn cranky without warning and complain a lot .

Each of them can name at least one superior in the company who he feels has a grudge against

him and is determined to wreck his career .

The

salesmen

work

hard

and

earn

big

salaries

,

with

large

personal

expense

accounts

that

they

squander generously on other people in and out of the company , including me . They own good

houses

in

good

communities

and

play

good

games

of

golf

on

good

private

golf

courses .

The

company encourages this . The company , in fact , will pay for their country club membership and

all

charges

they

incur

there

,

and

rewards

salesmen

who

make

a

good

impression

on

the

golf

course .

Unmarried men are not wanted in the Sales Department , not even widowers , for the company has

learned from experience that it is difficult and dangerous for unmarried salesmen to mix socially

with prominent executives and their wives or participate with them in responsible civic affairs . If

a salesman?s wife dies and he is not ready to remarry , he is usually moved into an administrative

position

after

several

months

of

mourning .

Bachelors

are

never

hired

for

the

sales

force

,

and

salesmen who get divorced , or whose wives die , know they had better remarry or begin looking

ahead toward a different job .

Strangely enough , the salesmen react very well to the constant pressure and rigid supervision to

which they are subjected . They are stimulated and motivated by discipline and direction. They

thrive

on

explicit

guidance

toward

clear

objectives .

For

the

most

part

,

they

are

cheerful

,

confident, and gregarious when they are not irritable , anxious , and depressed . There must be

something in the makeup of a man that enables him not only to be a salesman , but to want to be

one .

The salesmen are proud of their position and of the status and importance they enjoy within the

company

,

for

the

function

of

my

department

,

and

of

most

other

departments

,

is

to

help

the

salesmen sell . The company exists to sell . That?s the reason we were hired , and the reason we

are paid .

The

people

in

the

company

who

are

least

afraid

are

the

few

in

our

small

Market

Research

Department , who believe in nothing and are concerned with collecting , organizing , interpreting ,

and reorganizing statistical information about the public , the market , the country , and the world .

For one thing , their salaries are small , and they know they will not have much trouble finding

jobs paying just as little in other companies if they lose their jobs here . Their budget , too , is

small , for they are no longer permitted to undertake large projects .

Most

of

the

information

we

use

now

is

obtained

free

from

trade

associations

and

some

governmental organizations , and there is no way of knowing anymore whether the information on

which

we

base

our

own

information

for

distribution

is

true

or

false .

But

that

doesn?t

seem

to

matter all that does matter is that the information come from a reputable source . People in the

Market Research Department are never held to

blame for conditions they discover outside the

company that place us at a competitive disadvantage . They are not expected to change reality , but

merely to find it if they can and suggest ingenious ways of disguising it . To a great extent , that is

the nature of my own work , and all of us under Green work closely with the Sales Department

and the Public Relations Department in converting whole truths into half truths and half truths into

whole ones .

I

am

very

good

at

these

techniques

of

deception,

although

I

am

not

always

able

anymore

to

deceive myself . In fact , I am continuously astonished by people in the company who fall victim

to their own propaganda . There are so many now who actually believe that what we do is really

important .

This

happens

not

only

to

salesmen

,

but

to

the

shrewd

,

capable

executives

in

top

management

.

It

happens

to

people

on

my

own

level

and

lower

.

It

happens

to

just

about

everybody in the company who graduated from a good business school with honors . Every time

we launch a new advertising campaign , for example , people inside the company are the first ones

to be taken in by it . Every time we introduce a new product , or an old product with a different

cover , color , and name that we present as new , people inside the company are the first to rush to

buy it ---

even when it?s no good .

It?s a wise person , I guess , who knows he?s dumb , and an honest person who knows he?s a liar .

And it?s a dumb person who?s convinced he is wise . We wise grownups here at the company go

sliding in and out all day long , scaring each other at our desks and trying to evade the people who

frighten us . We come to work , have lunch , and go home . We goose-step in and goose- step out ,

change our partners and wander all about , and go back home till we all drop dead . Really , I ask

myself every now and then , depending on how well or poorly things are going at the office or at

home with my wife , or with my retarded son , or with my other son , or my daughter , or the

colored maid , or the nurse for my retarded son , is this all there is for me to do ?Is this really the

most I can get from the few years left in this one life of mine ?

And the answer I get , of course , is always ---

Yes !…

I

am

bored

with

my

work

very

often

now .

Everything

routine

that

comes

in

I

pass

along

to

somebody else . This makes my boredom worse . It ?s a real problem to decide whether it?s more

boring to do something boring than to pass along everything boring that comes in to somebody

else and then have nothing to do at all .

Actually , I enjoy my work when the assignments are large and urgent and somewhat frightening

and will come to the attention of many people . I get scared , and am unable to sleep at night , but I

usually perform at my best under this stimulating kind of pressure and enjoy my job the most . I

handle all of these important projects myself , and I rejoice with tremendous pride and vanity in

the compliments I receive when I do them well . But between such peaks of challenge and elation

there

is

monotony

and

despair .

(

And

I

find

,

too,

that

once

I

?ve

succeeded

in

impressing

somebody

,

I

?m

not

much

exci

ted

about

impressing

that

same

person

again

;

there

is

a

large

,

emotional letdown after I survive each crisis , a kind of empty , tragic disappointment , and last

year?s threat , opportunity , and inspiration are often this year?s inescapable tedium . I f

requently

feel I ?m being taken advantage of merely because I ?m asked to do the work I ?m paid to do . )

On

days

when

I

?m

especially

melancholy

,

I

began

constructing

tables

of

organization….classifying people in the company

on the basis of envy , hope

, fear , ambition ,

frustration, rivalry , hatred , or disappointment . I call these charts my Happiness Charts . These

exercises in malice never fail to boost my spirits ----but only for a while . I rank pretty high when

the

company

is

analyzed

this

way

,

because

I

?m

not

envious

or

disappointed

,

and

I

have

no

expectations

.

At

the

very

top

,

of

course

,

are

those

people

,

mostly

young

and

without

dependents , to whom the company is not

yet an institution of any sacred merit but still only a

place to work , and who regard their present association with it as something temporary . I put

these people at the top because if you asked any one of them if he would choose to spend the rest

of his life working for the company , he would give you a resounding No ! , regardless of what

inducements

were

offered .

I

was

that

high

once .

if

you

asked

me

that

same

question

today,

I

would also give you a resounding No ! and add:

“

I think I?d rather die now . “

But I am making no plans to leave .

I have the feeling now that there is no place left for me to go .

Lesson Two

Eveline

By James Joyce

Text

She sat at the window watching the evening invade the head was leaned against

the window curtains , and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne . She was tired .

Few people passed . The man out of the last house passed on his way home she heard his

footsteps

clacking

along

the

concrete

pavement

and

afterwards

crunching

on

the

cinder

path

before the new red houses . One time there used to be a field there in which they

used to play

every evening with other people?s children . Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built

houses in it ----not like their little brown houses , but bright brick houses with shining roofs . The

children of the avenue used to play together in that field

–

the Devines , the Waters , the Dunns ,

little Keogh the cripple , she and her brothers and sisters . Ernest , however , never played: he was

too grown up . Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick but

usually

little

Keogh

used

to

keep

nix

and

call

out

when

he

saw

her

father

coming .

Still

they

seemed to have been rather happy then . Her father was not so bad then and besides , her mother

was alive . That was a long time ago she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up ; her

mother

was

dead .

Tizzie

Dunn

was

dead

,too,

and

the

Waters

had

gone

back

to

England .

Everything changed . Now she was going to go away like the others , to leave her home .

Home ! She looked round the room , reviewing all its familiar objects

which she had dusted

once a week for so many years , wondering where on earth all the dust came from . Perhaps she

would never see again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided .

And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing

photograph

hung

on

the

wall

above

the

broken

harmonium

beside

the

coloured

print

of

the

promises made to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque . He had been a school friend of her father .

whenever he showed the photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word :” He

is in Melbourne now . “

She had consented to go away , to leave her home . Was what wise ? She tried to weigh each

side of the question . In her home anyway she had shelter and food she had those whom she had

known all her life about her . Of course she had to work hard , both in the house and at business .

What would they say of her in the stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow ?

Say

she

was

a

fool

,

perhaps;

and her

place

would

be

filled

up

by

advertisement . Miss

Gavan

would

be

glad .

She

had

always

had

an

edge

on

her

,

especially

whenever

there

were

people

listening .

“Miss Hill , don?t you see

these ladies are waiting ?”

“ Look lively , Miss Hill , please . “

She would not cry many tears at leaving the stores .

But in her new home , in a distant unknown country , it would not be like that . Then she would be

married ---she , Eveline . People would treat her with respect then . She would not be treated as

her mother had been . Even now , though she was over nineteen , she sometimes felt herself in

danger of her father?s violence . She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations . Whe

n

they were growing up he had never gone for her , like he used to go for Harry and Ernest , because

she was a girl but latterly he had begun to threaten her and say what he would do to her only for

her dead mother?s sake . And now she had nobody to prot

ect her , Ernest was dead and Harry ,who

was

in

the

church

decorating

business

,

was

nearly

always

down

somewhere

in

the

country .

Besides

,

the

invariable

squabble

for

money

on

Saturday

nights

had

begun

to

weary

her

unspeakably . She always gave her entire wages ----seven shillings ----and Harry always sent up

what

he

could

,

but

the

trouble

was

to

get

any

money

from

her

father .

He

said

she

used

to

squander

the

money

,

that

she

had

no

head

,

that

he

wasn?t

going

to

give

her

his

hard

-earned

money

to

throw

about

the

streets

,

and

much

more

,

for

he

was

usually

fairly

bad

on

Saturday

night .

In

the

end

he

would

give

her

the

money

and

ask

her

had

she

any

intention

of

buying

Sunday?s dinner . Then she had to rush out as quickly as she could and do her marketing

, holding

her

black

leather

purse

tightly

in

her

hand

as

she

elbowed

her

way

through

the

crowds

and

returning home late under her load of provisions . She had hard work to keep the house together

and to see that the two young children who had been left to her charge went to school regularly

and got their meals regularly . It was hard work ----a hard life ----but now that she was about to

leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life .

She was about to explore another life with Frank . Frank was very kind , manly , open- hearted .

She was to go away with him by the night

–

boat to be his wife and live with him in Buenos Ayres ,

where he had a home waiting fro her . How well she remembered the first time she had seen him

he was lodging in a house on the main road where she used to visit . It seemed a few weeks ago .

he was standing at the gate , his peaked cap pushed back on his head and his hair tumbled forward

over a face of bronze . Then they had come to know each other . He used to meet her outside the

stores every evening and see her home . He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated

as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him . He was awfully fond of music and

sang a little . People knew that they were courting , and when he sang about the lass that loves a

sailor , she always felt pleasantly confused . He used to call her Poppens out of fun . First of all it

had been an excitement for her to have a fellow and then she had begun to like him . He had tales

of distant countries . He had started as a deck boy at a pound a month on a ship of the Allan Line

going out to Canada . He told her the names of the ships he had been on and the names of the

different

services .

He

had sailed

through

the

Straits

of

Magellan

and

he

told

her

stories

of

the

terrible Patagonians . He had fallen on his feet in Buenos Ayres , he said , and had come over to

the

old

country

just

for

a

holiday .

Of

course

,

her

father

had

found

out

the

affair

and

had

forbidden her to have anything to say to him .

“

I know these sailor chaps , “ he said .

One day he had quarreled with Frank , and after that she had to meet her lover secretly .

The evening deepened in the avenue . The white of two letters in her lap grew indistinct . One was

to Harry the other was to her father . Ernest had been her favourite , but she likeed Harry too .

Her father was becoming old lately , she noticed he would miss her . Sometimes he could be very

nice . Not long before , when she had been laid up for a day , he had read her out a ghost story and

made toast for her at the fire . Another day , when their mother was alive , they had all gone for a

picnic to the Hill of Howth . She remembered her father putting on her mother?s bonnet to make

the children laugh .

Her time was running out , but she continued to sit by the window ,leaning her head against the

window curtain , inhaling the odour of dusty cretonne . Down far in the avenue she could hear a

street organ playing . She knew the air . Strange that it should come that very night to remind her

of the promise to her mother , her promise to keep the home together as long as she could . She

remembered the last night of her mother?s illness she was again in the close , dark room at the

other side of the hall and outside she heard a melancholy air of Italy . The organ-player had been

ordered

to

go

away

and

given

sixpence .

She

remembered

her

father

strutting

back

into

the

sick- room saying :

“

Damned Italians ! Coming over here !”

As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother

?s life laid its spell on the very quick of her being

---that life of commonplace sacrifices closing in final craziness . She trembled as she heard again

her mother?s voice saying constantly with foolish insistence :

“

Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun !”

She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror . Escape ! She must escape ! Frank would save her . He

would give her life , perhaps love , too . But she wanted to live . Why should she be unhappy ?

She had a right to happiness . Frank would take her in his arms , fold her in his arms . He would

save her .

*

*

*

She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall .He held her hand

and she

knew that he was speaking to her , saying something about the passage over and over again . The

station was full of soldiers with brown baggages . Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught

a glimpse of the black mass of the boat , lying in beside the quay wall , with illumined portholes .

She

answered

nothing .

She

felt

her

cheek

pale

and

cold

and

,

out

of

a

maze

of

distress

,

she

prayed

to

God

to

direct

her

,

to

show

her

what

was

her

duty .

The

boat

blew

a

long

mournful

whistle

into

the

mist .

If

she

went

,

tomorrow

she

would

be

on

the

sea

with

Frank

,

steaming

towards Buenos Ayres . Their passage had been booked . Could she still draw back after all he had

done for her ? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body

and she kept moving her lips in silent

fervent prayer .

A bell clanged upon her heart . She felt him seize her hand :

“ Come!”

All

the

seas

of

the

world

tumbled

about

her

heart .

He

was

drawing

her

into

them

:

he

would

drown her . She gripped with both hands at the iron railing .

:”Come !”

No! No! No ! It was impossible . Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy . Amid the seas she sent a

cry of anguish .

“

Eveline ! Evvy !”

He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow . He was shouted at to go on , but he still

called to her . She set her white face to him , passive , like a helpless animal . Her eyes gave him

no sign of love or farewell or recognition .

Lesson Three

What?s Wrong With Our Press ?

By marya Mannes

Text

Newspapers

have two great advantages over television . They can be used by men as barriers

against

their wives . It is still the only effective screen against the morning features of the loved

one

,and , as such , performs a unique human service .The second advantage is that you can?t

line a garbage pail with a television set ----

it?s usually the other way around .

But here are some interesting statistics from a little , and little known , survey by Mr. Roper called

“ The public?s reaction to Television Following the Quiz Investigations “ . In it he asks everybody

but

me

this

question

:

Suppose

you

could

continue

to

have

only

one

of

the

following---radio ,television , newspapers ,or magazines ---which would you prefer ? Newspapers

came in second : Forty

–

two percent said if they could only have one , they would keep television.

Thirty

–

two per cent said if they could only have one , they would keep newspapers .

Even so , newspaper people should be much happier than the magazine people , because only four

per cent said they needed magazines , as against nineteen per cent for radio .

But listen to this . Mr. Roper asked these same

harried people :” If you get conflicting or different

reports of the same new story from radio , television , the magazines , and the newspapers , which

of

the

four

versions

would

you

be

most

inclined

to

believe

?

“

Thirty

–

two

per

cent

believe

newspapers as against thirty per cent who believe television . But then something really strange

happens .

When

Mr.

Roper

asked

his

guinea

pigs

which

of

these

media

they

would

be

least

inclined to believe , the newspapers topped the list . In a big way , too . Twenty

–

four per cent

don?t believe newspapers as against nine per cent who don?t believe television .

The

fact

is

that

although

network

television

still

allots

too

little

time

to

the

vital

service

of

informing the public , it does a better job in that little t

ime than the nation?s press as a whole . And

when

I

speak

of

the

nation?s

press

as

a

whole

,

I

am

not

speaking

of

the

five

or

six

splendid

newspapers ----and the one great newspaper -----which serve the world as models of responsible

public information . I am speaking of the local press which in hundreds of American communities

is the only news available , aside from those recitals of ticker tape that pass for radio news .

Why do I think network Tvdoes a better job of informing than these papers ? Well , l

et?s get the

partisan bit over with . Television lives on advertising to an even greater extent than newspapers ,

and

since

advertising

is

big

business

,

advertising

is

by

nature

Republican .

yet

nowhere

in

network

newscasts

or

network

commentaries

on

current

events

have

I

encountered

the

intense

partisanship , the often rabid bias that colors the editorial pages of the majority of newspapers in

this country . Douglass Cater , in his book The Fourth Branch of Government , confines himself to

only one pungen

t footnote on this subject . “ I have deliberately avoided , “ he writes , “ getting

into

the

predominantly

one-

party

nature

of

newspaper

wonership .

it

is

a

fact

of

life .

“

This

particular fact of life is a shameful one : that newspapers whose duty is to inform the American

public give them only one side of the issues that affect them profoundly ---the Republican side .

This is shameful not only for Democrats ---they have survived it before and will survive it again

----but for the maturity of our people . Some of the same papers which loudly extol the virtues of

free enterprise and a free press are consistently failing to print the facts on which a people can

form a balance and independent opinion . That balanced and independent opinion is our only real

security as a nation .

Now

,

very

often

,

television

coverage

of

news

is

superficial

and

inadequate .

very

often

the

picture takes precedence over the point . But by and large the news reports and commentaries on

CBS and NBC and ABC make every effort to present viewers with more than one aspect of an

issue , either by letting opposing spokesmen have their say , or by outlining the positions held by

both major parties on the subject involved .

Television

also

provides

a

wide

range

of

opinion

by

setting

up

four

or

five

experts

and

letting

them knock each other down . What has the local press of this nature ?

Fortunately for the American public , television does not tolerate the kind of distortion of fact , the

kind

of

partisan

virulence

and

personal

peeve

,

that

many

newspapers

not

only

welcome

but

encourage . In its entertainment , television caters far too much to the lowest instincts of man ,

particularly the lust for violence . But there is one appetite it does not feed and which the partisan

newspapers of the nation do : the appetite for hate ---hate of whatever is different . I do not find on

televison the kind of editorials chronic in the New York tabloids as well as in many local papers

across the country .

A newspaper has the right ----the duty even ----to assume an attitude , to take a position . But it has

an equally sacred right to explain that position in the light of the opposing one , to document that

position , and to bolster it , not with emotion but with fact .

Here , of course , is where background information helps the public to draw its conclusions . TV

does a great deal of this in the form of documentaries , and you can of course say that they have

the time and the money to do this and you haven?t . Yet across this wide country , and with

the

exception

of

a

handful

of

syndicated

columns

,

I

fail

to

find

in

any

local

paper

any

attempt

,

however minimal , to strengthen this muscle of digestion , without which news can neither nourish

nor inform . It can only stuff . Between the opinions of the editor and the bare statements of the

wire

services

there

is

nothing

,

nothing

,

that

is

except

a

collection

of

snippets

used

as

fillers

between the ads and picked at random .

One

of

the

greatest

and

most

justified

criticisms

of

television

has

been

that

in

appealing

to

the

largest audience possible , it neglects minority audiences and minority tastes . This is still largely

true .

But

there

is

,

perhaps

,

one

program

a

day

and

many

,

of

course

,

on

Sunday

which

an

intelligent man or woman can enjoy and derive interest from . In my trips east or west or north or

south , I pick up the local paper to find this enjoyment or interest ---

in vain . Now , surely there?s

something wrong here . Many of these places I ?ve visited

---

and I ?m sure this is true of the

whole

country -----have college communities where highly intelligent and talented people live , whether

they are teachers or doctors or lawyers or musicians or scientists . What is there for them in the

paper , usually the only paper , of their town ? What features are provided for these people ? What

stimulation ? How many times have I heard them say “ If you want to see what a really bad paper

is like , read our sheet “?

I believe that over a period of decades newspapers have become a habit rather than a function .

They have held their franchise so long that change has become inadmissible . I do not know , in

fact , of any medium that has changed as little in the last twenty years as the daily press . And this

resistance to change is the end of growth ---which , in turn , marks the end of usefulness .

Change means trouble , change means work , change means cost . It is easier to print wire services

dispatches than have a reporter on the beat . It is easier to buy syndicated columns than find ---and

train ---local talent . It is easier to let the ads dictate the format than develop a format that elevates

news above dogfood . it is easier to write editorial copy that appeal to emotion rather than reason .

This is , to me , a tragedy . I am a printed

–

word woman myself , and I still think the word was not

only in the beginning but will be in the end . No picture can ever be an adequate substitute . The

word will prevail that is , if you , who are its guardians , treat it with the respect it deserves . For

it

you

degrade

and

cheapen

the

word

too

long

,

the

people

will

turn

to

the

picture .

They

are

beginning to turn to the picture now . Not in New York , maybe , not in Washington D.C.,or St.

Louis, or two or three other cities , but in hundreds of towns across the country . Oh, they will buy

your papers ---to hold up at breakfast or to line the trash can or to light a fire .But not to learn .And

you may wake up one day to find you have lost the greatest power entrusted to men : to inform a

free people .

Lesson Four The Tragedy of Old Age in America

By Robert N. Butler

Text

What is it like to be old in the United States ? What will our own lives be like when we are old ?

Americans find it difficult to think about old age until they are propelled into the midst of it by

their own aging and that of relatives and friends . Aging is the neglected stepchild of the human

life cycle . Though we have begun to examine the socially taboo subjects of dying and death , we

have leaped over that that long period of

time preceding death , we have leaped over that

long

period of time preceding death known as old age . In truth , it is easier to manage the problem of

death than the problem of living as an old person . Death is a dramatic one-time crisis while old

age is a day-by

–

day and year

–

by

–

year confrontation with powerful external and internal forces ,

a bittersweet coming to terms with one?s own personality and one?s life .

Those

of

us

who

are

not

old

barricade

ourselves

from

discussions

of

old

age

by

declaring

the

subject morbid , boring or in poor taste . Optimism and euphemism are other common devices .

people

will

speak

of

looking

forward

to

their

“

retirement

years

“ .

The

elderly

are

described

respectfully as “ senior citizens “ , “ golden agers “ , “ our elders “ , and one hears of old people

who are considered inspirations and examples of how to “ age well “ or “ gracefully “ . There is

the

popularly

accepted

opinion

that

Social

Security

and

pensions

provide

a

comfortable

and

reliable

flow

of

funds

so

the

elderly

have

few

financial

worries

.

Medicare

has

lulled

the

population

into

reassuring

itself

that

the

once

terrible

financial

burdens of

late-life

illnesses

are

now

eradicated .

Advertisements

and

travel

folders

show

relaxed

,

happy

,

well-dressed

older

people enjoying recreation , travel and their grandchildren . If they are no longer living in the old

family home , they are pictured as delighted residents of retirement communities with names like

Leisure World and Sun City , with lots of grass , clean air and fun . This is the American ideal of

the

“

golden

years

“

toward

which

millions

of

citizens

are

expectantly

toiling

through

their

workdays .

But

this

is

not

the

full

story .

A

second

theme

runs

through

the

popular

view

of

old

age .

Our

colloquialis

ms reveal a great deal

: once you are old you are “ fading fast “ , “ over the hill “ ,

“ out to pasture “ , “ down the drain “ , “ finished “ , “ out of date “ , an “ old crock “ , “ fogy “ ,

“ geezer “ , or “ biddy “ . One hears children saying they are

afraid to get old , middle-aged people

declaring they want to die after they have passed their prime , and numbers of old people wishing

they were dead .

What can we possibly conclude from these discrepant points of view ? Our popular attitudes could

be

summed

up

as

a

combination

of

wishful

thinking and

stark

terror . We base our

feelings

on

primitive fears , prejudice and stereotypes rather than on knowledge and insight . In reality , the

way

one

experiences

old

age

is

contingent

upon

physical

health

,

personality

,

earlier-life

experiences , the actual circumstances of late

–

life events ( in what order they occur , how they

occur

,

when

they

occur

)

and

the

social

supports

one

receives

:

adequate

finances

,

shelter,

medical

care

,

social

roles

,

religious

support

,

recreation

.

All

of

these

are

crucial

and

interconnected elements which together determine the quality of late life .

Old

age

is

neither

inherently

miserable

nor

inherently

sublime---like

every

stage

of

life

it

has

problems , joys , fears , and potentials . The process of aging and eventual death must ultimately

be accepted as the natural progression of the life cycle , the old completing their prescribed life

spans

and

making

way

for

the

young .Much

that

is

unique

in

old

age

in

fact

derives

from

the

reality of aging and the imminence of death . The old must clarify and find use for what they have

attained in a lifetime of learning and adapting they must conserve strength and resources where

necessary

and

adjust

creatively

to

those

changes

and

losses

that

occur

a

part

of

the

aging

experience . The elderly have the potential for qualities of human reflection and observation which

can

only

come

form

having

lived

an

entire

life

span

.

There

is

a

lifetime

accumulation

of

personality and experience which is available to be used and enjoyed .

But what are an individual?s chances for a “ good “ old age in America , with satisfying final years

and a dignified death ? Unfortunately , none too good . For many elderly Americans old age is a

tragedy

,

a

period

of

quiet

despair

,

deprivation

,

desolation

and

muted

rage .

This

can

be

a

consequence of the kind of life a person has led in younger years and the problems in his or her

relationships with others . There are also inevitable personal and physical losses to be sustained ,

some of which can become overwhelming and unbearable . All of this is the individual factor , the

existential

element .

But

old

age

is

frequently

a

tragedy

even

when

the

early

years

have

been

fulfilling and people seemingly have everything going for them . Herein lies what I consider to be

the genuine tragedy of old age in America

–

we have shaped a society which is extremely harsh to

live in when one is old . The tragedy of old age is not the fact that each of us must grow old and

die

but

that

the

process

of

doing

so

has

been

made

unnecessarily

and

at

times

excruciatingly

painful , humiliating , debilitating and isolating through insensitivity , ignorance and poverty . The

potentials for satisfactions and even triumphs in late life are real and vastly underexplored For the

most part the elderly struggle to exist in an inhospitable world .

Are things really that bad ? Let?s begin by looking at the basic daily requirements for survival .

Poverty or drastically lowered income and old age go hand in hand . People who are poor all their

lives remain poor as they grow old . Most of us realize this . What we do not realize is that these

poor are joined by multitudes of people who become poor only after growing older . When Social

Security becomes the sole or primary income , it means subsistence

–

level styles for many , and

recent increases do not keep up with soaring costs of living . Private pension plans often do not

pay off , and pension payments that do come in are not tied to inflationary

decreases in buying

power. Savings can be wiped out by a single

unexpected catastrophe . In January , 1971, half of

the elderly , or over 10 million people , lived on less than $$75a week , or $$10 per day . Most lived

on far less . Even the relatively well

–

off are not assured of an income that will support them .

It has been estimated that at least 30per cent of the elderly

live in substandard housing . Many

more must deprive themselves of essentials to keep their homes in repair .

The American dream promised older people that if they worked hard enough all their lives , things

would turn out well for them . Today?s elderly were brought up to believe in pride , self

-reliance

and

independence .

Many

are

tough

,

determined

individuals

who

manage

to

survive

against

adversity . But even the tough ones reach a point where help should be available to them .

Age

discrimination

in

employment

is

unrestrained

,

with

arbitrary

retirement

practices

and

bias

against hiring older people for available jobs . Social Security penalized the old by reducing their

income checks as soon as they earn more than $$2,400 a year . Job-

training programs don?t want

the elderly ( or the middle-aged , for that matter ) , so there is no opportunity to learn new skills .

Employers

rarely

make

concessions

for

the

possible

physical

limitations

of

otherwise

valuable

older employees , and instead they are fired , retired or forced to resign .

It is obvious that the old get sick more frequently and more severely than the young , and 86 per

cent have chronic health problems of varying degree . These health problems , while significant ,

are largely treatable and for the most part do not impair the capacity to work . Medicare pays for

only

45

per

cent

of

older

people?s

health

expenses

;

the

balan

ce

must

come

from

their

own

incomes

and

savings

,

or

from

Medicaid

,

which

requires

a

humiliating

means

test .

A

serious

illness can mean instant poverty . Drugs prescribed outside of hospitals , hearing aids , glasses ,

dental care and podiatry are not covered at all under Medicare . There is prejudice against the old

by

doctors

and

other

medical

personnel

who

don?t

like

to

bother

with

them .

Psychiatrists

and

mental-health

personnel

typically

assume

that

the

mental

problems

of

the

old

are

untreatable .

Psychoanalysts , the elite of the psychiatric profession , rarely accept them as patients . Medical

schools and other teaching institutions find them “ uninteresting “ . V

oluntary hospitals are well

known for dumping the “ Medicare patient “ into municipal h

ospitals municipal hospitals in turn

funnel

them

into

nursing

homes

,

mental

hospitals

and

chronic-disease

institutions

without

the

adequate diagnostic and treatment effort which might enable them to return home . Persons who

do

remain

at

home

while

in

ill

health

have

serious

difficulties

in

getting

social

,

medical

and

psychiatric services brought directly to them .

Problems large and small confront the elderly . They are easy targets for crime in the streets and in

their

homes .

Because

of

loneliness

,

confusion

,

hearing

and

visual

difficulties

they

are

prime

victims

of

dishonest

door

–

to

–

door

salesmen

and

fraudulent

advertising

,

and

buy

defective

hearing

aids

,

dance

lessons

,

useless

“

Medicare

insurance

supplements

“

,

and

quack

health

remedies . Persons crippled by arthritis or strokes are yelled at by impatient bus drivers for their

slowness in climbing on and off buses . Traffic lights turn red before they can get across the street .

Revolving doors move too quickly . Subways usually have no elevators or escalators .

Old

women

fare

worse

than

old

men .

Women

have

an

average

life

expectancy

of

seven

years

longer than men and tend to marry men older than themselves so two-thirds ( six million ) of all

older women are widows . When widowed they do not have the social prerogatives as older men

to date and marry those who are younger . As a result , they are likely to end up alone ---an ironic

turn

of

events

when

one

remembers

that

most

of

them

were

raised

from

childhood

to

consider

marriage

the

only

acceptable

state .

The

income

levels

of

older

working

women

are

generally

lower than those of men many never worked outside the home until their children were grown

and then only at unskilled , low-paying jobs . Others who worked all their lives typically received

low wages , with lower Social Security and private retirement benefits as a result . Until 1973 ,

housewives who were widowed received only 82.5 per cent of their husband ?s Social Security

benefits even though they were full

–

time home

–

makers .

Black , Mexican

–

American and American Indian elderly all have a lower life expectancy than

whites , due to their socioeconomic disadvantages . Although the life expectancy of 67.5 years for

white men remained the same from 1960to 1968 , the life expectancy for black men declined a full

year during that time ( from 61.1 to 60.0) . Blacks of all ages make up 11 per cent of the total

United States population , but they constitute only 7.8 per cent of the elderly . The life expectancy

for Mexican- Americans is estimated at 57 years , and for American Indians at 44 years . Most do

not live long enough to be eligible for the benefits of Social Security and Medicare . Poverty is the

norm . Scant attention is paid to their particular cultural interests and heritage .

Asian-American elderly ( Chinese , Japanese , Korean , Filipino and Samoan ) are victims of a

public impression that they are independently cared fro by their families and therefore do not need

help .

However

,

patterns

of

immigration

by

Asian-Americans

to

this

country

,

the

cultural

barriers

,

language

problems

and

discrimination

they

have

faced

have

all

taken

a

toll

of

their

elderly and their families . This is particularly true of older Chinese men , who were not allowed

to bring their wives and families with them to the United States or to intermarry .

Lesson Five

Trifles (Part One )

By Susan Glaspell

Text

Characters

George Henderson , county attorney

Henry Peters ,Sheriff

Lewis Hale, A neighboring farmer

Mrs. Peters

Scene

The kitchen in the now abandoned farmhouse of John Wright, a gloomy kitchen , and left without

having been put in order ---unwashed pans under the sink , a loaf of bread outside the breadbox , a

dish towel on the table ---other signs of incompleted work. At the rear the outer door opens and

the sheriff comes in followed by the county attorney and Mr. Hale . The sheriff and Mr. Hale are

men in middle life , the county attorney is a young man , all are much bundled up and go at once

to the stove . They are followed by two women

---

the sheriff ?s wife first ; she is a slight wiry

woman

,

with

a

thin

nervous

face .Mrs.

Hale

is

larger

and

would

ordinarily

be

called

more

comfortable

looking

,

but

she

is

disturbed

now

and

looks

fearfully

about

as

she

enters .

The

women have come in slowly , and stand close together near the door .

County attorney : ( rubbing his hands . ) This feels good . Come up to the fire , ladies .

Mrs. Peters: ( After taking a step forward . ) I ?m not

--- cold .

Sheriff : ( Unbuttoning his overcoat and stepping away from the stove as if to mark the beginning

of

official

business .

)

Now,

Mr.

Hale

,

before

we

move

things

about

,

you

explain

to

Mr.

Henderson just what you saw when you came here yesterday morning .

County

attorney

:

By

the

way

,

has

anything

been

moved

?

Are

things

just

as

you

left

them

yesterday ?

Sheriff : ( Looking about ) It ?s just the same . When it dropped below zero last night I thought I ?d

better send Frank out this morning to make a fire for us ----no use getting pneumonia with a big

case on , but I told him not to touch anything except the stove ----and you know Frank .

County attorney : Somebody should have been left here yesterday .

Sheriff : Oh ----yesterday .

When I had to send Frank to Morris Center for that man who went

crazy

----I

want

you

to

know

I

had

my

hands

full

yesterday

,

I

knew

you

could

get

back

from

Omaha by today and as long as I went over everything here myself ----

County

attorney

:

Well

,

Mr.

Hale

,

tell

just

what

happened

when

you

came

here

yesterday

morning .

Mr. Hale : Harry and I had started to town with a load of potatoes . We came along the road from

my place and as I got here I said , “ I ?m going to see if I can?t get John Wright to go in with me on

a party telephone . “ I spoke t

o Wright about it once before and he put me off , saying floks talked

too much anyway , and all he asked was peace and quiet ----I guess you know about how much he

talked himself but I thought maybe if I went to the house and talked about it before his wife ,

though

I

said

to

Harry

that

I

didn?t

know

as

what

his

wife

wanted

made

much

difference

to

John----

County attorney : Let?s talk about that later , Mr. Hale . I do want to talk about that , but tell now

just what happened when you got to the house .

Mr. Hale : I didn?t hear or see anything I knocked at the door , and still it was all quiet inside . I

knew

they

must

be

up

,

it

was

past

eight

o?clock .

So

I

knocked

again

,

and

I

thought

I

heard

somebody say , “ Come in . “ I wasn?t sure , I ?m not sur

e yet , but I opened the door ---this door

(

Indicating

the

door

by

which

the

two

women

are

still

standing .

)

and

there

in

that

rocker

---( pointing to it . ) sat Mrs. Wright .

( They all look at the rocker . )

County attorney : What ----was she doing ?

Mr.

Hale

:

She

was

rocking

back

and

forth .

She

had

her

apron

in

her

hand

and

was

kind

of

---pleating it .

County attorney : And how did she ---look ?

Mr. Hale :Well, she looked queer .

County attorney : How do you mean ----queer ?

Mr. Hale: Well , as

if she didn?t know what she was going to do next . And kind of done up .

County attorney :How did she seem to feel about your coming ?

Mr. Hale : Why , I don?t think she minded

---

one way or other . She didn?t pay much attention . I

said , “ How do , Mrs.

Wright , it?s cold , ain?t it ?”And she said , “ Is it ?”

---and went on kind of

pleating at her apron . Well , I was surprised she didn?t ask me to come up to the stove , or to sit

down , but just sat there , not even looking at me , so I said , “ I want to see John . “ and then she

---laughed . I guess you would call it a laugh . I thought of Harry and the team outside , so I said a

little sharp : “ Can?t I see John ?” “ No, “ she says , kind of dull like . “ Ain?t he home ?” says I .

“ Yes, “ says she

, “ he?s home .” “ then why can?t I see him ?” I asked her , out of patience .

“

Cause

he?s

dead

,

“

says

she .

“

Dead?”

says

I .

she

just

nodded

her

head

,

not

getting

a

bit

excited , but rocking back and forth . “ Why

---

where is he ?”says I , not knowi

ng what to say .

She just pointed upstairs ----like that . ( Himself pointing to the room above . ) I got up , with the

idea of going up there . I walked from there to here ----

then I says , “ Why , what did he die of ?”

he died of a rope round his neck ,”

says she , and just went on pleating at her apron . Well , I went

out and called Harry . I thought I might ---need help . We went upstairs and there he was lying ----

County attorney : I think I ?d rather have you go into that upstairs , where you can poi

nt it all out .

Just go on now with the rest of the story .

Mr.

Hale

:

Well

,

my

first

thought

was

to

get

that

rope

off .

It

looked

…

(

Stops

,

his

face

twitches . ) …but Harry , he went up to him , and he said , “ No, he?s dead all right , and we?d

bette

r not touch anything . “ so we went back downstairs . she was still sitting that way . “ Has

anybody

been

notified

?”

I

asked .

“

No,

“

says

she

,

unconcerned .

“

Who

did

this

,

Mrs.

Wright

?”

says

Harry .

He

said

it

businesslike

----and

she

stopped

pleati

ng

of

her

apron .

:”

I

dunno,” she says . “ You don?t know ?” says Harry . “ No, “ says she . “ Weren?t you sleeping in

the

bed

with

him ?”

says

Harry .

“

Yes,

“

says

she

,

“ but

I

was

on

the

inside .

“ “

somebody

slipped a rope round his neck and strangle

d him and you didn?t wake up ?” says Harry . “ I didn?t

wake up , “ she said after him . We must have looked as if we didn?t see how that could be , for

after a minute she said , “ I sleep sound . “ Harry was going to ask her more questions but I said

maybe we ought to let her tell her story first to the coroner or the sheriff , so Harry went fast as he

could to Rivers ?s place , where there?s a telephone .

County

attorney

:

And

what

did

Mrs.

Wright

do

when

she

knew

that

you

had

gone

for

the

coroner ?

Mr.

Hale

:

She

moved

from

that

chair

to

this

one

over here .

( pointing

to

a

small

chair

in

the

corner . ) and just sat there with her hands held together and looking down . I got a feeling that I

ought

to

make

some

conversation

,

so

I

said

I

had

come

in

to

see

if

John

wanted

to

put

in

a

telephone , and at that she started to laugh , and then she stopped an looked at me

-----scared .

( The county attorney , who has had his notebook out , makes a note . )

I dunno , maybe it wasn?t scared . I wouldn?t like to sa

y it was . Soon Harry got back , and then Dr.

Lloyd came , and you , Mr. Peters , and so I guess that?s all I know that you don?t .

County attorney : ( Looking around . ) I guess we?ll go upstairs first

---and then out to the barn

and

around

there .

(

To

the

sheriff.

)

You?re

convinced

that

there

was

nothing

important

here

---nothing that would point to any motive .

Sheriff : Nothing here but kitchen things .

(

The

county

attorney

,

after

again

looking

around

the

kitchen

,

opens

the

door

of

a

cupboard

closet . He gets up on a chair and looks on a shelf . Pulls his hand away , sticky . )

County attorney : Here?s a nice mess .

( The women draw nearer . )

Mrs Peters (to the other woman . ) Oh , her fruit it did freeze . ( to the county attorney . ) She

worried about that when it turned so cold . She said the fire?d go out and her jars would break .

Sheriff : Well , can beat the women ! Held for murder and worrying about her preserves .

County

attorney

:

I

guess

before

we?re

through

she

may

have

somethi

ng

more

serious

than

preserves to worry about .

Mr. Hale : Well , women are used to worrying over trifles .

( The two women move a little closer together . )

county attorney ( With the gallantry of a young politician . ) and yet , for all their worries , what

would

we

do

without

the

ladies

?(

The

women

do

not

unbend .

He

goes

to

the

sink

,

takes

a

dipperful

of water from the pail and pouring it into a basin , washes his hands . Starts to wipe

them on the roller towel , turns it for a cleaner place . ) Dirty towels !( Kicks his foot against the

pans under the sink . ) Not much of a housekeeper , would you say , ladies ?

Mrs. Hale : ( Stiffly . ) There ?s a great deal of work to be done on a farm .

County attorney : To be sure . And yet ( with a little bow to her . ) I know there are some Dickson

county farmhouses which do not have such roller towels .

( He gives it a pull to expose its full length again . )

Mrs. Hale : Those towels get dirty awful quick . Men?s hands aren?t always as clean as they might

be .

County

attorney

:

Ah

,

loyal

to

your

sex

,

I

see .

But

you

and

Mrs.

Wright

were

neighbors .

I

suppose you were friends , too .

Mrs. Hale : ( Shaking her head . ) I ?ve not seen much of her of late years . I ?ve not been in this

house ----

it?s more

than a year .

County attorney : And why was that ? You didn?t like her ?

Mrs. Hale : I liked her all well enough . Farmers? wives have their hands full , Mr. Henderson .

And then -----

County attorney : yes ----?

Mrs. Hale : (looking about )It never seemed a very cheerful place .

County attorney : No-----

it?s not cheerful . I shouldn?t say she had the homemaking instinct .

Mrs. Hale : Well , I don?t know as Wright had , either .

County attorney : You mean that they didn?t get on very well ?

Mrs Hale : N

o, I don?t mean anything . But I don?t think a place?d be any cheerfuller for John

Wright?s being in it .

County attorney : I ?d like to talk more of that a little later . I want to get the lay of things upstairs

now .

(He goes to the left , where three steps lead to a stair door . )

Sheriff : I suppose anything Mrs. Peters does ?ll be all right . She was to take in some clothes for

her , you know , and a few little things.

We left in such a hurry yesterday .

County attorney : Yes , but I would like to see what you take , Mrs Peters ,and keep an eye out for

anything that might be of use to us .

Mrs. Peters : Yes , Mr. Henderson .

( The women listen to the men?s steps on the stairs , then look about the kitchen . )

Mrs. Hale : I ?d hate men coming int

o my kitchen , snooping around and criticizing .

( she arranges the pans under sink which the county attorney had shoved out of place . )

Mrs. Peters : Of course it?s no more than their duty .

Mrs. Hale : Duty?s all right , but I guess that deputy sherif

f that came out to make fire might have

a little of this on . ( Gives the roller towel a pull . ) Wish I ?d though of that sooner . Seems mean

to talk about her for not having things slicked up when she had to come away in such a hurry .

Mrs. Peters : ( Who has gone to a small table in the left rear corner of the room , and lifed one end

of a towel that covers a pan . ) She had bread set . ( Stands still . )

Mrs. Hale :(Eyes fixed on a loaf of bread beside the breadbox , which is on a low shelf at the other

side of the room . Moves slowly toward it . ) she was going to put this in there . (Picks up loaf ,

then abruptly drops it . In a manner of returning to familiar things . ) It?s a shame about her fruit . I

wonder if it?s all gone . ( Gets up on the chair

and looks . ) I think there?s some here that?s all right ,

Mrs. Peters . Yes -----here ( Holding it toward the window. ) this is cherries , too . ( Looking

again. ) I declare I believe that?s the only one . ( Gets down , bottle in her hand . Goes to the

sink

and wipes it off on the outside . ) She?ll feel awful bad after all her hard work in the hot weather . I

remember the afternoon I put up my cherries last summer .

( She puts the bottle on the big kitchen table , center of the room . With a sigh , is about to sit

down in the rocking

–

chair . Before she is seated realizes what chair it is with a slow look at it ,

steps back . The chair which she has touched rocks back and forth . )

Mrs Perters : Well , I must get those things from the front room closet . ( She goes to the door at

the right , but after looking into the other room , steps back . ) You coming with me , mrs . hale ?

You could help me carry them .

(

They

go

in

the

other

room

;

reappear

,

Mrs.

Peters

carrying

a

dress

and

skirt

,

Mrs.

Hale

following with a pair of shoes . )

Mrs. Peters : My, it?s cold in there .

( She puts the clothes on the big table , and hurries to the stove . )

Mrs. Hale ? Examing her skirt . ) Wright was close . I think maybe that?s why she kept so much to

herself .

she didn?t even belong to the Ladies Aid . I supposed she felf she couldn?t do her part ,

and then you don?t enjoy things when you feel shabby . She used to wear pretty clothes and be

lively , when she was Minnie Foster , one of the town girls singing in the choir . But that

–

oh , that

was thirty years ago . This all you was to take in ?

Mrs. Peters : She said she wanted an apron . Funny thing to want , for there isn?t much to get you

dirty in jail , goodness knows . But I suppose just

to make her feel more natural . She said they

was in the top drawer in this cupboard . Yes , here . And then her little shawl that always hung

behind the door . ( Opens stair door and looks . ) Yes , here it is . ( Quickly shuts door leading

upstairs . )

Lesson Six Trifles ( Part two )

Text

Mrs. Hale : ( Abruptly moving toward her . ) Mrs . Perters ?

Mrs. Perters : Yes , Mrs. Hale ?

Mrs. Hale : Do you think she did it ?

Mrs. Peters : (in a frightened voice. ) Oh , I don?t know .

Mrs. Hale :Well , I don?t think she did

. Asking fro an apron and her little shawl . Worrying about

her fruit .

Mrs. Peters : ( Starts to speak , glances up , where footsteps are heard in the room above . In a low

voice . ) Mr. Peters says it looks bad for her . Mr. Henderson is awful sarcastic in a speech and

he?ll make fun of her saying she didn?t wake up .

Mrs

hale

:

Well

,

I

guess

John

Wright

didn?t

wake

when

they

was

slipping

that

rope

under

his

neck .

Mrs. Peters : No , it?s strange . It must have been done awful crafty and still . They

say it was such

a ----funny way to kill a man , rigging it all up

like that .

Mrs. Hale : That ?s just what Mr. Hale said . There was a gun in the house . He says that?s what he

can?t understand .

Mrs. Perters : Mr. Henderson said coming out that what was needed for the case was a motive

something to show anger , or ---sudden feeling .

Mrs. Hale : ( Who is standing by the table.

) Well , I don?t see any signs of anger around here .

( She puts her hand on the dish towel which lies on the table , stands looking down at table , one

half of which is clean , the other half messy . ) It?s wiped to here . ( Makes a move as if to finish

work , then turn s and looks at loaf of bread outside the breadbox . Drops towel . In that voice of

coming back to familiar things . ) Wonder how they are finding things upstairs . I hope she had it a

little more tidied up there . You know it seems kind of sneaking . Locking her up in town and then

coming out here and trying to get her own house to turn against her !

Mrs. Peters : But Mrs. Hale , the law is the law .

Mrs. Hale : I suppose it is . ( Unbuttoning her coat . ) Better loosen up your things , Mrs. Peters .

You won?t feel them when you go out .

( Mrs. Peters takes off her fur tippet , goes to hang it on hook at back of room , stands looking at

the under part of the small corner table . )

Mrs. Peters : She was piecing a quilt .

( She brings the large sewing basket and they look at the bright pieces . )

Mrs. Hale : It?s log cabin pattern . Pretty , isn?t it ? I wonder

if she was going to quilt it or just knot

it ?

( Footsteps have been heard coming down the stairs . The sheriff enters followed by Hale and the

county attorney . )

Sheriff : They wonder if she was going to quilt it or just knot it !( The men laugh the women look

abashed . )

County attorney : ( Rubbing his hands over the stove . ) Frank?s fire didn?t do much up there , did

it ? Well , let?s go out to the barn and get that cleared up .

( The men go outside . )

Mrs. Hale : ( Resentfully . ) I don?t know as there?s anything so strange , our taking up our time

with little things while we?re waiting for them to get the evidence . ( She sits down at the big table

smoothing out a block with decision . ) I don?t see as it?s anything to laugh about .

Mrs. Pete

rs : ( Apologetically . ) Of course they?ve got awful important things on their minds .

( Pulls up a chair and joins Mrs. Hale at the table . )

Mrs. Hale : ( Examining another block . ) Mrs. Peters , look at this one . Here , this is the one she

was working on , and look at the sewing ! All the rest of it has been so nice and even . And look at

this

! It?s all over the place ! Why , it looks as if she didn?t know what she was about !

(After she has said this they look at each other , then start to glance back at the door . After an

instant Mrs. Hale has pulled at a knot and ripped the sewing . )

Mrs. Peters : Oh , what are you doing , Mrs. Hale ?

Mrs. Hale :)( Mildly . ) Just pulling out a stitch or two that ?s not sewed very good . ( Threading a

needle . ) Bad sewing always made me fidgety .

Mrs. Peters : ( Nervously . ) I don?t think we ought to touch things .

Mrs. Hale : I ?ll just finish up this end . ( Suddenly stopping and leaning forward . ) Mrs. Peters ?

Mrs. Peters : yes , Mrs. Hale ?

Mrs. Hale : What do you suppose she was so nervous about ?

Mrs. Peters : Oh ----

I don?t know . I don?t know as she was nervous. I sometimes sew awful queer

when I ?m just tired . ( Mrs. Hale starts to say something , looks at Mrs. Peters , then goes on

sewing . ) Well , I must get these things wrapped up . They may be through sooner than we think .

(

Putting

apron

and

other

things

together .

)

I

wonder

where

I

can

find

a

piece

of

paper

,

and

string .

Mrs. Hale : In that cupboard , maybe .

Mrs. Peters : ( looking

in cupboard . ) Why , here ?s a birdcage .

( Holds it up . ) Did she have a bird , Mrs. Hale ?

Mrs. Hale : Why , I don?t know whether she did or not

---

I ?ve not been here for so long . There

was a man around last year selling canaries cheap , but I don?t

know as she took one maybe she

did . She use to sing real pretty herself .

Mrs. Peters : ( Glancing around . ) Seems funny to think of a bird here .But she must have had

one , or why would she have a cage ? I wonder what happened to it .

Mrs. Hale : I suppose maybe the cat got it .

Mrs. Peters : No, she didn?t have a cat . She got that feeling some people have about cats

----being

afraid of them . My cat got in her room and she was real upset and asked me to take it out .

Mrs. Hale : My sister Bessie

was like that . Queer , ain?t it ?

Mrs. Peters : (Examining the cage . ) Why , look at this door . It?s broke . One hinge is pulled

apart .

Mrs. Hale : ( Looking too . ) Looks as if someone must have been tough with it .

Mrs. Peters : Why , yes .

( She brings the cage forward and puts it on the table . )

Mrs. Hale : I wish if they?re going to find any evidence they?d be about it . I don?t like this place .

Mrs. Peters : But I ?m awful glad you came with me , Mrs. Hale . It would be lonesome for me

sitting here alone .

Mrs. Hale : It would , wouldn?t it ? ( Dropping her sewing . ) But I tell you what I do wish , Mrs.

Peters . I wish I had come over sometimes when she was here . I ----( looking around the room . )

----wish I had .

Mrs. Peters : But of course you were awful busy , Mrs. Hale -----your house and your children .

Mrs. Hale : I could?ve come . I stayed away because it weren?t cheerful

-----

and that?s why I ought

to have come . I ---

I ?ve never liked this place . Maybe because it?s down in a

hollow and you

don?t see the road . I don?t know what it is but it?s a lonesome

place and always was . I wish I

had come over to see Minnie Foster sometimes . I can see now ----( Shakes her head . )

Mrs. Peters : Well , you mustn?t reproach yourself , Mrs. Hale . Somehow we just don?t see how it

is with other folks until ----something comes up .

Mrs. Hale : Not having children makes less work ----but it makes a quiet house , and Wright out to

work all day , and no company when he did come in . Did you know John Wright , Mrs. Peters ?

Mrs. Peters : Not to know him I ?ve seen him in town . They say he was a good man .

Mrs. Hale : yes ---

good he didn?t drink , and kept his word as well as most , I guess , and paid his

debts . but he was a hard man , Mrs. Peters . Just to pass the time of day with him ----( shivers . )

Like a raw wind that gets to the bone . (Pauses , her eye falling on the cage . ) I should think she

would have wanted a bird . But what do you suppose went with it ?

Mrs. Peters : I don?t

know , unless it got sick and died .

( She reaches over and swings the broken door , swings it again . Both women watch it . )

Mrs. Hale : You weren?t raised round here , were you ?( Mrs. Peters shakes her head . ) You didn?t

know ----her ?

Mrs. Peters : Not till they brought her yesterday .

Mrs.

Hale

:

She

----come

to

think

of

it

,

she

was

kind

of

like

a

bird

herself

----real

sweet

and

pretty , but kind of timid and

–

fluttery . How ---she ---did ----change . ( Silence then as if struck

by a happy thought and relieved to get back to everyday things . ) Tell you what , Mrs. Peters ,

why don?t you take the quilt in with you ? it might take up her mind .

Mrs. Peters : Why ,

I think that?s a real nice idea , Mrs. Hale . There couldn?t possibly be any

objection to it , could there ? Now , just what would I take ? I wonder if her patches are in here

----and her things .

( They look in the sewing basket . )

Mrs. Hale : Here?s some red . I expect this has got sewing things in it . ( Brings out a fancy box .

)

What a pretty box . Looks like something somebody would give you . Maybe her scissors are in

here . ( Opens box . Suddenly puts her hand to her nose . ) Why ----( Mrs. Peters bends nearer ,

then turns her face away . )

There ?s something wrapped up in t

his piece of silk .

Mrs. Peters : Why , this isn?t her scissors .

Mrs. Hale : ( Lifting the silk . ) Oh , Mrs peters ----

it?s

----

( Mrs. Peters bends closer. )

Mrs. Peters : It?s the bird .

Mrs. Hale : ( Jumping up ) But , Mrs. Peters ---look at it !

its neck ! Look at its neck ! It?s all

----other side to .

Mrs. Peters : somebody ----wrung ---its ----neck .

( Their eyes meet . A look of growing comprehension , of horror . Steps are heard outside . Mrs.

Hale slips box under quilt pieces , and sink into her chair . Enter sheriff and county attorney , Mrs.

Peters rises . )

County attorney : ( As one turning from serious things to little pleasantries . ) Well , ladies , have

you decided whether she was going to quilt it or knot it ?

Mrs. Peters : We think she was going to ---knot it .

County attorney : Well , that?s interesting , I?m sure . ( Seeing the birdcage . ) Has the bird flown ?

Mrs. Hale : ( Putting more quilt pieces over the box . ) we think the ---cat got it .

County attorney : ( Preoccupied . ) Is there a cat ?

( Mrs. Hale glanced in a quick covert way at Mrs. Peters . )

Mrs. Peters : Well , not now . They ?re superstitious , you know . They leave .

County attorney : (To Sheriff Peters , continuing an interrupted conversation . ) No sign at all of

anyone having come from the outside . Their own rope . Now let?s go up again and go over it

piece by piece . ( They start upstairs . ) It would have to have been someone who knew just the ----

( Mrs. Peters sits down . The two women sit there not looking at one another , but as if peering

into

something

and

at

the

same

time

holding

back . When

they

talk

now

it

is

in

the

manner

of

feeling their way over strange ground , as if afraid of what they are saying , but as if they can not

help saying it . )

Mrs. Hale : She liked the bird . She was going to bury it in that pretty box .

Mrs. Peters : ( In a whisper .) When I was a girl ----my kitten -----there was a boy took a hatchet ,

and

before

my

eyes

----and

before

I

could

get

there

-----(

covers

her

face

an

instant .

)

If

they

hadn?t

held

me

back

I

would

have

----(

catches

herself

,

looks

upstairs

where

steps

are

heard

,

falters weakly . ) ------hurt him .

Mrs. Hale : ( With a slow look around her . ) I wonder how it would seem never to have had any

c

hildren around . ( Pause . ) No , Wright wouldn?t like the bird

-----a thing that sang . She used to

sing .He killed that , too .

Mrs. Peters : ( Moving uneasily . ) We don?t know who killed the bird .

Mrs. Hale : I knew John Wright .

Mrs. Peters : It was an awful thing that was done in this house that night , Mrs. Hale . Killing a

man while he slept , slipping a rope around his neck that choked the life out of him .

Mrs. Hale : His neck . Choked the life out of him .

( Her hand goes out and rests on the birdcage . )

Mrs. Peters : ( With rising voice . ) We don?t know who killed him . We don?t know .

Mrs. Hale : ( Her own feeling not interrupted . ) If there?d

been years and years of nothing , then

a bird to sing to you , it would be awful ---still , after the bird was still .

Mrs. Peters : ( Something within her speaking . ) I know what stillness is . When we homesteaded

in Dakota , and my first baby died ---after he was two years old , and me with no other then -----

Mrs. Hale : ( Moving . ) How so

on do you suppose they ?ll be through , looking for the evidence ?

Mrs. Peters : I know what stillness is . ( Pulling herself back . )The law has got to punish crime ,

Mrs. Hale .

Mrs. Hale : ( Not as if answering that . ) I wish you?d seen Minnie Foster

when she wore a white

dress with blue ribbons and stood up there in the choir and sang . ( A look around the room . ) Oh ,

I wish I ?d come over here once in a while ! That was a crime ! That was a crime ! Who?s going to

punish that ?

Mrs. Peters : ( Looki

ng upstairs . ) We mustn?t

----take on .

Mrs. Hale : I might have known she needed help ! I know how things can be ----for women . I tell

you , it?s queer , Mrs. Peters . We live close together and we live far apart . We all go through the

same

things

---

it?s

all

just

a

different

kind

of

the

same

thing .

(

Brushes

her

eyes;

noticing

the

bottle of fruit was gone . Tell her it ain?t . Tell her it?s all right . Take this in to prove it to her . She

---she may never know whether it was broke or not .

Mrs. Peters : ( Takes the bottle , looks about for something to wrap

it in takes petticoat

from

the clothes brought from the other room , very nervously begins winding his around the bottle . In

a false voice . ) My , it?s a good thing the men couldn?t hear us

. Wouldn?t they just laugh ! Getting

all stirred up over a little thing like a ----dead canary . As if that could have anything to do with

----with ---

wouldn?t they laugh !

( The men are heard coming downstairs . )

Mrs. Hale : ( Under her breath . ) Maybe they would ----

maybe they wouldn?t .

County attorney : No, Peters , it?s all perfectly clear except a reason for doing it . But you know

juries

when

it

comes

to

women

.

If

there

was

some

definite

thing

.

Something

to

show

----something to

make a story about

----a

thing that would connect up with this strange way of

doing it -----

( The women ?s eyes meet for an instant . Enter Mr. Hale from outer door . )

Mrs. Hale : Well , I ?ve got the team around . Pretty cold out there .

County attorney :

I ?m goin

g to stay here a while by

myself . ( To the sheriff . ) You can send

Frank out for me , can?t you ?I want to go over everything . I ?m not satisfied that we can?t do

better .

Sheriff : Do you want to see what Mrs. Peters is going to take in ?

( The county attorney goes to the table , picks up the apron . laughs . )

County

attorney

:

Oh,

I

guess

they?re

not

very

dangerous

things

the

ladies

have

picked

out .

( Moves a few things about disturbing the quilt pieces which cover the box . Steps back . ) No,

Mrs.

Peters doesn?t need supervising . For that

matter , a sheriff ?s wife is married to the law .

Ever think of it that way , Mrs. Peters ?

Mrs. Peters : Not ---just that way .

Sheriff : ( Chuckling . ) Married to the law . ( Moves toward the other room . ) I just want you to

come in here a minute , George . We ought to take a look at these windows .

County attorney : ( Scoffingly . ) oh . windows !

Sheriff : We?ll be right out , Mr. Hale .

( Hale goes outside. The sheriff follows the county attorney into the other room . Then Mrs. Hale

rises

,

hands

tight

together

,

looking

intensely

at

Mrs.

Peters

,

whose

eyes

make

a

slow

turn

,

finally meeting Mrs. Hale?s. A moment Mrs. Hale holds her , then her own eyes point the way to

where the box is concealed . Suddenly Mrs. Peters throws back quilt pieces and tries to put the box

in the bag she is wearing . it is too big . She opens the box , starts to take bird out, cannot touch it ,

goes

to

pieces

,

stands

there

helpless .

Sound

of

a

knob

turning

in

the

other

room .

Mrs.

Hale

snatches the box and puts it in the pocket of her big coat . Enter county attorney and sheriff . )

County attorney :( Facetiously . ) Well , Henry , at least we found out that she was not going to

quilt it . She was going to -----what is it you call it , ladies ?

Mrs. Hale : ( Her hand against her pocket. ) We call it

–

knot it , Mr. Henderson .

Curtain

Lesson Seven

Ace in the Hole

By John Updike ]

Text

No sooner did his car touch the boulevard heading home than Ace flicked on the radio . He needed

the radio , especially today . In the seconds before the tubes warmed up , he said aloud , doing it

just to hear a human voice , “ Jesus . She ?ll pop her lid . “ His voice , though familiar , irked him

it sounded thin and scratchy . In a deeper register Ace added , “ She?ll murder me . “ Then the

radio

came

on

,

warm

and

strong

,

so

he

stopped

worrying

.

The

five

Kings

were

doing

“ Blueberry Hill “ to hea

r them made Ace feel so sure inside that from the pack pinched between

the car roof and the sun shield he plucked a cigarette , hung it on his lower lip , snapped a match

across the rusty place on the dash . He rolled down the window and snapped the match so it spun

end-over-

end into the gutter . “ Two points ,

“ he said , and cocked the cigarette toward the roof

of the car , sucked powerfully , and exhaled two plumes through his nostrils . He was beginning to

feel like himself , Ace Anderson , for the first time that whole day , a bad day . He beat time on the

accelerator . The car jerked crazily .

Ace decided to stop at his mother?s place and pick up the baby , instead of waiting for Evey to do

it . His mother must have seen him drive up . She came out on the porch holding a plastic spoon

and smelling of cake .

“

You?re out early , “ she told him .

“

Friedman fired me , “ Ace told her .

“

Good for you , “ his mother said . “I always said he never treated you right . “ she brought a

cigarette out of her apron pocket and tucked it deep into one corner of her mouth , the way she did

when something pleased her .

Ace lighted it for her . “ Friedman was O.K. personally , “ he said .” He just Wanted too much for

his

money .

I

didn?t

mind

working

Saturdays

,

but

until

eleven

,

twelve

Friday

nights

was

too

much . Everybody has a right to some leisure . “

“

Well , I don?t dare think that Evey will say , but I , for one . thank dear God you had the brains

to get out of it . I always said that job had no future to it ----

no future of any kind , Freddy . “

“

I guess , “ Ace admitted . “ But I wanted to keep at it , for the family ?s sake . “

“

Now , I know I shouldn?t be saying this , but any time Evey

----this is just between us ----any

time Evey thinks she can do be

tter , there?s room for you and Bonnie right in your father?s house .

“ She pinched her lips together . He could almost hear the old lady think . There , I?ve said it .

“

Look , Mom , Evey tries awfully hard , and anyway you know she can?t work that way .

Not

that that ---

I mean , she?s a realist , too ….” He let the rest of the thought fade as he watched a kid

across the street dribbling a basketball around a telephone pole that had a backboard and net nailed

on it .

“

Evey?s

a

wonderful

girl

of

her

own

kind .But

I

?ve

always

said

,

and

your

father

agrees

,

Roman Catholics ought to marry among themselves . Now I know I?ve said it before , but when

they get out in the greater world ----

“

“

No , Mom . “

She frowned , smoothed herself , and said , “ Your name was in the paper today . “

Ace chose to let that go by . He kept watching the kid with the basketball .

“

Did you hear ?”his mother asked .

“

Sure , but so what ?” Ace said . His mother?s lower lip was coming at him , so he changed the

subject . “ I guess I ?ll take Bonnie . “

His mother went into the house and brought back his daughter , wrapped in a blue blanket . The

baby

looked

dopey .

“

She

fussed

all

day

,

“

his

mother

complained .

“

I

said

to

your

father

,

?Bonnie is a dear little girl , but without a doubt she?s her mother ?s daughter . You were the best

–natured boy . “

“

Well I had everything , “ Ace said with an impatience that made his mother blink .

At

the

door

of

his

car

,

it

seemed

stupid

to

him

to

drive

the

measly

half

block

home .

His

old

coach , Bob Behn , used to say never to ride where you could walk . cars were the death of legs .

Ace

left

the

ignition

keys

in

his

pocket

and

ran

along

the

pavement

with

Bonnie

laughing

an

bouncing at his chest .

The run must have tuned Bonnie up . When they got back home , as soon as he lowered her into

the crib , she began to shout and wave her arms . He didn?t want to play with her . He tossed some

blocks and rattle into the crib an walked into the bathroom , where he turned on the hot water and

began to comb his hair . He ran the comb straight back on both sides of his head , then mussed the

hair in front enough for one little lock to droop over his forehead . It made the temple seem lower

than it was . Every day , his hair-line looked higher . He had observed all around him how blond

men went bald first . He remembered reading somewhere , though , that baldness shows virility .

He found a can of beer in the refrigerator behind some brownish lettuce and those hot dogs Evey

never got around to cooki

ng . She ?d be home any time . The clock said 5:12 . She ?d pop her lid .

Ace didn?t see what he could do but try and reason with her . “Evey , “ he?d say , “ you ought to

thank God I got out of it . It had no future to it at all . “ He hoped she wouldn?t

get too mad ,

because when she was mad he wondered if he should have married her , and doubting that made

him feel crowded . It was bad enough , his mother always crowding him . He hope Evey wouldn?t

say anything that couldn?t be forgotten . What women didn?t seem to realize was that there were

things you knew but shouldn?t say .

Ace balanced the beer on a corner where two rails of the crib met and looked under the chairs for

the morning paper . He had trouble finding his name , because it was at the bottom of a column on

an inside sports page , in a small article about the country basketball statistics :

“

Dusty

“

Tremwick

,

Grosvenor

Park?s

sure

-fingered

center

copped

the

individual

scoring

honors with a season?s grand ( and we do mean grand ) total of 3

76points . This is within eighteen

points of the all-time rocord of 394 racked up in the 1949-

1950 season by Olinger High?s Fred

Anderson .

Ace angrily sailed the paper into an armchair . Now it was Fred Anderson it used to be Ace . He

hated

being

called

Fred

,

especially

in

print

,

but

then

the

sportswriters

were

all

office

boys

anyways , Behn used to say .

Ace

went

into

the

kitchen

,

without

knowing

what

he

wanted

there .

He

wasn?t

hungry

;

his

stomach was tight .

A key scratched at the door lock . Ace decided to stay in the kitchen . Let her find him . Her heels

clicked

on

the

floor

for

a

step

or

two

;

then

the

television

set

went

off . Bonnie

began

to

cry .

“ Shut up , honey , “ Evey said . There was a silence .

“

I?m home , “ Ace called .

“

No k

idding . I thought Bonnie got the beer by herself . “

Ace laughed . She was in a sarcastic mood thinking she was Lauren Bacall . That was all right ,

just so she kept funny . Still smiling , Ace eased into the living room and got hit with , “

What

are

you

smirking

about

?

Another

question

:

What?s

the

idea

running

up

the

street

with

Bonnie like she was a football ?”

“

You saw that ?”

“

Your mother told me . “

“

You saw her ?”

“

Of course I saw her . I dropped by to pick up Bonnie. What the hell do you think ---- I read her

tiny mind ?”

“

Take it easy , “ Ace said , wondering if Mom had told her about Friedman .

“

Take it easy ? Don?t coach me . Another question : Why ?s the car out in front of her place ?

you give the car to her ?”

“

Look , I parked it the

re to pick up Bonnie ., and I thought I ?d leave it there . “

“

Why ?”

“

Whaddeya mean , why ? I just did . I just thought I ?d walk . It?s not that far , you know . “

“

no , I don?t know . If you ?d been on your feet all day a block would look like one he

ll of a

long way . “

“

Okay . I?m sorry . “

She hung up her coat and stepped out of her shoes and walked around the room picking up things

She stuck the newspaper in the wastebasket .

Ace said , “ My name was in the paper today . “

“

They spell it right ?”

She shoved the paper deep into the basket with her foot . There was no

doubt she knew about Friedman .

“

They called me Fred . “

“

Isn?t that your name ? What is your name anyway ? Hero J. Great ?”

There wasn?t any answer , so Ace didn?t try any . He s

at down on the sofa , lighted a cigarette ,

and waited .

Evey picked up Bonnie . “ Poor thing stinks . What does your mother do , scrub out the toilet with

her ?”

“

Can?t you

take it easy ? I know you?re tired . “

“

You should . I?m always tired . “

Evey and Bonnie went into the bathroom when they came out Bonnie was clean and Evey was

calm . Evey sat down in an easy chair beside Ace and rested her stocking feet on his knees . “ Hit

me , “ she said , twiddling her fingers for the cigarette .

The baby crawled up to her chair and tried to stand to see what he gave her . Leaning over close to

Bonnie?s nose , Evey grinned , smoke leaking through her teeth , and said , “ Only for grownups ,

honey . “

“

Eve, “ Ace began , “ there was no future in that job . W

orking all Saturday , and then Friday

nights on top of it . “

“

I know . Your mother told me all that , too . All I want from you is what happened . “

She was going to take it like a sport , then . He tried to remember how it did happen . “ It wasn?t

my fa

ult , “ he said .

“

Friedman

told

me

to

back

this

?51

Chevvy

into

the

line

that

faces

Church

Street .

He

just

bought it from an old guy this morning who said it only had thirteen thousand on it . So in I jump

and start her up . There was a knock in the engine like a machine gun . I almost told Friedman

he?d bought a squirrel , but you know I cut that smart stuff out ever since Palotta laid me off . “

“

You told me that story . What happens in this one ?”

“

Look , Eve . I am telling ya . Do you want me to g

o out to a movie or something ??

“

Suit yourself . “

“

So I jump in the Chevvy and snap it back in line , and there was a kind of scrape and thump . I

get out the look and Friedman?s running over , his arms going like this “

----Ace whirled his own

arms and laughed ----

“ and here was the whole back fender of a ?49 Merc mashed in . Just looked

like somebody took a planer and shaved off the bulge , you know , there at the back . “ He tried to

show her with his hands . “ The Chevvy , though , didn?t have a den

t . It even gained some paint .

but

Friedman

,

to

hear

him

----Boy

,

they

can

rave

when

their

pocket

---

book?s

hit .

He

said

“

----Ace laughed again -----

“ never mind . “

Evey said , “ you?re proud of yourself . “

“

No, listen. I?m not happy about it . But there wasn?t a thing I could do . It wasn?t my driving at

all . I looked over on the other side , and there was just two or three inches between the Chevvy

and a Buick . “

She said , “ you could have looked . “

“

There just wasn?t the space . Friedman said stick it in I stuck it in . “

“

But you could have looked and moved the other cars to make more room . “

“

I guess that would have been the smart thing. “

“

I guess , too . Now what ?”

“

What do you mean ? “

“

I

mean

now

what ? Are

you

going

to

give

up ? Go

back

to

the

army

? Your mother?

Be

a

basketball pro ? What ?

“

you know I?m not tall enough . Anybody under six

-

six they don?t want . “

“

Is that so ? Six

–

six ? Well , please listen to this , Mr. Six-foot-five-and

–

a

–half I ?m fed up .

I?m ready

as Christ to let you run . “ She stabbed her cigarette into an ashtray on the arm of the

chair so hard the ashtray jumped

to the floor . Evey flushed and shut up .

What Ace hated most in their arguments was these silences after Evey had said something so ugly

she wanted to take it back . “ Better ask the priest first , “ he murmured .

She sat right up. “ If there?s one thing I don?t want to hear about from you it?s priests . You leave

the priests to me . you don?t know a damn thing about it . Not a damn thing. “

“

Hey , look at Bonnie , “ He said , trying to make a fresh start with his tone . ?

Evey didn?t hear him . “ If you think , “ she went on , “ if for one

rotten moment you think , Mr.

Fred , that the be-all of my life is you and your hot

–

shot stunts ----

“

“

Look , Mother , “ Ace pleaded , pointing at Bonnie. The baby had picked up the ashtray and put

it on her head for a hat and was waiting for praise .

Evey glanced down sharply at the child . “ Cute , “ She said . “ Cute as her daddy . “

The asht

ray slid from Bonnie?s head and she patted where it had been and looked around puzzled .

“

Yeah , but watch , “ Ace said . “ Watch her hands . They?re really terrific hands . “

“

You?re nuts ,” Evey said . “

“

No,

honest .

Bonnie?s

great .

She?s

a

natural

,

“

Ace

said

,

“

and

it

won?t

do

her

any

good

because she?s a girl . Baby , we got to have a boy . “

“

I?m not your baby , “ Evey said , closing her eyes .

Saying “ Baby “ over and over again , Ace backed up to the radio and , without turning around ,

switched on the volume knob . In the moment before the tubes warmed up , Evey had tiem to say ,

“ Wise up , Freddy . What shall we do ? “

The radio came in on something slow : dinner music . Ace picked Bonnie up and set her in the crib.

“ Shall we dance ? “ h

e asked his wife , bowing .

“

I want to talk . “

“

Baby . It?s the cocktail hour . “

“

This is getting us no place , “ She said , rising from her chair , though .

“

Fred Junior . I can see him now , “ he said , seeing nothing .

“

We will have no Juniors

. “

In her crib , Bonnie whimpered at the sight of her mother being seized . Ace fitted his hand into

the

natural

place

on

Evey?s

back

and

she

shuffled

stiffly

into

his

lead .

When

,

with

a

sudden

injection of saxophones , the tempo quickened , he spun her out carefully , keeping the beat with

his shoulders . Her hair brushed his lips as she minced in , then swung away , to the end of his

arm he could feel her toes dig into the carpet . He flipped his own hair back from his eyes . The

music

ate

through

his

skin

and

mixed

with

the

nerves

and

small

veins

;

he

seemed

to

be

great

again , and all the other kids were around them ,

in a ring , clapping time .

Lesson Eight

Science Has Spoiled My Supper

By Philip Wylie

Text

I

am

a

fan

for

Science .My

education

is

scientific

and

I

have

,

in

one

field

,

contributed

a

monograph

to a

scientific

journal .

Science

,

to

my

mind

,

is

applied

honesty

,

the

one

reliable

means we have to find out truth . That is why , when error is committed in the name of science , I

feel the way a man would if his favorite uncle had taken to drink .

Over the years , I have come to feel that way about what science has done to food . I agree that

America can set as good a table as any nation in the world . I agree that our food is nutritious and

that the diet of most of us is well- balanced . What America eats is handsomely packaged it is

usually clean and pure ; it is excellently preserved. The only trouble with it is this year by year it

grows less good to eat . It appeals increasingly to the eye . But who eats with his eyes ? Almost

everything used to taste better when I was a kid . For quite a long time I thought that observation

was merely another index of advancing age . But some years ago , I married a girl whose mother

is an expert cook of the kind called “ old –fashioned “. This gifted woman?s daughter ( my wife )

was taught her mother?s venerable skills . She still buys dairy products from the neighbors and , in

so far as possible ,

she uses the same

materials her

mother and grandmother did

---to prepare

meals that are superior . They are just as good as I recall them from my courtship . After eating fro

a while at the table of my mother-in-law , it is sad to go back to eating with my friends ----even

the alleged “ good cooks “ among them . And it is a gruesome experience to have meals at the best

big-city restaurants .

Take cheese , for instance . Here and there , in big cities , small stores and delicatessens specialize

in cheese . At such places , one can buy at least some of the first

–

rate cheeses that we used to eat

---such as those we had with pie and macaroni . The latter were sharp but not too sharp . They

were a little crumbly . We called them American cheeses actually they were Cheddars . Long

ago , this cheese began to be supplanted by a material called “ cheese foods “ . Some cheese foods

are fairly edible but no one comes within miles of the old kind ---for flavor .

A grocer used to be very fussy about his cheese . Cheddar was made and sold by hundreds of little

factories . Representatives of the factories had particular customers , and cheese was prepared by

hand

to

suit

the

grocers

,

who

knew

precisely

what

their

patrons

wanted .

Some

liked

them

sharper some liked them yellower some liked anise seed in cheese ,or caraway .

What

happened

?

Science

----or

what

is

called

scicence

---stepped

in .

The

old

–

fashioned

cheese

didn?t

ship

well

enough

.

They

crumbled

,

became

moldy

,

dried

out

.

“

Scientific

marketing “ then took effect . Its motto is :” Give the people the least quality they?ll stand for .

“ In food , as in many other things , the “ Scientific marketers “ regard quality as secondary as

long as they can sell most persons anyhow .

It is not possible to make the very

best cheese in vast quantities at a low average cost . “ Scientific

samplings “ got in its statistically nasty work . It was found that the largest number of people will

buy something that is bland and rather tasteless . Those who prefer a product of a pronounced and

individualistic

flavor

have

a

variety

of

preferences

.

Nobody

is

altogether

pleased

by

bland

foodstuff , in other words but nobody is very violently put off . The results is that a “ reason “ has

been found for turning out zillions of package

s of something that will “ do “ for nearly all and

isn?t even imagined to be superlatively good by a single soul .

Economics

entered .

It

is

possible

to

turn

out

in

quantity

a

bland

,

impersonal

,

practically

imperishable substance more or less resembling , say cheese ---at lower cost than cheese . Chain

groceries

shut

out

the

independent

stores

and

“

standardization

“

became

a

principal

means

of

cutting cost .

Imitations also came into the cheese business . There are American duplications of most of the

celebrated European cheeses , massproduced and cheaper by far than the imports . They would

cause

European

food

–

lovers

to

gag

and

guffaw

---

but

generally

,

the

imitations

are

all

that?s

available in the supermarkets . people buy them and eat them .

For y

ears , I couldn?t? figure out what had happened to vegetables . I knew , of course , that most

vegetables , to be enjoyed in their full deliciousness , must be picked fresh and cooked at once . I

knew

that

vegetables

cannot

be

overcooked

and

remain

even

edible

,

in

the

best

sense .

They

cannot stand on the stove . That set of facts makes it impossible , of course , for any American

restaurant ----or , indeed , any city-dweller separated from supply by more than a few hours ---to

have decent fresh vegetables . the Parisians manage by getting their vegetables picket at dawn and

rushed in farmers? carts to market, where no middle or marketman delays produce on its way to

the pot .

Our vegetables , however , come to us through a long chain of command . There are merchants of

several sorts -----wholesalers before the retailers , commission men , and so on ----with the result

that what were once edible products become, in transit, mere wilted leaves and withered tubers .

Homes

and

restaurants

do what

they

can

with

this

stuff

----which

my

mother---in

---law

would

discard

on

the

spot .

I

have

long

thought

that

the

famed

blindfold

test

for

cigarettes

should

be

applied to city vegetables . For I am sure that if you pureed them blindfolded , you couldn?t tee the

beans from the peas , the turnips from the squash .

It is only lately that I have found how much science of genetics is involved . Agronomists and the

like have taken to breeding

all sorts of vegetables and fruits

----changing their original nature .

This sounds wonderful and often is insane . For the scientists have not as a rule taken any interest

whatsoever in the taste of the things they?ve tampered with !

What they have done is to develop “ improved “ strains of things for every purpose but eating .

They work out , say , peas that will ripen all at once . The farmers can then harvest his peas and

thresh them and be done with them . It is extremely profitable because it is efficient . What matters

if such peas taste like boiled paper wads ?

Geneticists have

gone crazy over such “ opportunities “. They ?ve developed string beans that are

straight instead of curved , and all one length . This makes them easier to pack in cans , even if ,

when eating them , you can?t tell them from tender string . .Ripening time

and identity of size and

shape are , nowadays , more important in carrots than the fact that they taste like carrots . They are

producing onions that only vaguely remind you of onions . We are getting some varieties , in fact ,

that have less flavor than

the water off last week?s leeks . Yet , if people don?t eat onions because

they taste like onions , what do they eat them for

The women?s magazines are about one third dedicated to clothes , one third to mild comment on

sex , and the other third to recipes and pictures of handsome salads , desserts , and main courses .

“ Institutes “ exist to experiment and tell housewives how to cook attractive meals and how to turn

leftovers into works of art . The food thus pictured looks like famous paintings of still life . The

only trouble is it?s tasteless .

I wonder if this blandness of our diet doesn?t explain why so many of us are overweight and even

dangerously so . When things had flavor , we knew what we were eating all the while ----and it