Lincoln in the Bardo Page 14
andy thorne
I steal every chanse I git.
janice p. dwightson
I give her dimonds and perls and broke the harts of wife and children and sell the house from under us to buy more dimonds and perls but she thows me over for mr hollyfen with his big yellow laughing horseteeth and huge preceding paunch?
robert g. twistings
Sixty acres with a good return & a penful of hog & thirty head cattle & six fine horses & a cobbled stone house snug as a cradle in winter & a fine wife who looks adoringly at me & three fine boys who hang on my every word & a fine orchard giving pears apples plums peaches & still Father don’t care for me?
lance durning
One thing I dont like is I am dumb! Everyone treats me like I am dumb all my life. And I am! Dumb. Even sewing for me is a hard one. My aunt who raised me sat hours showing me sewing. Do it like this, hon, she would say. And I would. Once. Then next time I needed to do it that way I would just sit there, needle raised. And auntie would say lord child this is the nine-millionth time I am showing you this. Whatever it was. See, now I cant remember! What it was. What auntie showed me that I forgot. When a young man come a-courting he would say something such as about the guv’ment and I would say, oh, yes, the guv’ment, my aunts teaching me to sew. And his face’d go blank. Who would want to hold or love one so dull. Unless she is fair. Which I am not. Just plain. Soon I am too old for the young men to come and be bored and that is that. And my teeth go yellow and some fall out. But even when you are a solitary older lady it is no treat to be dumb. Always at a party or so on you are left to sit by the fire, smiling as if happy, knowing none desire to speak with you.
miss tamara doolittle
Lugged seventy-pound pipe-lengths up Swatt Hill—Come home hands torn to hell & bleeding—Rolled gravel nineteen hours straight ––& look how I am rewarded—Edna & girls shuffling in and out, gowns stained attending me—Always worked hard, worked cheerful—& once I am better will get right back at it—Only, my left boot needs resoled—& need to collect what Dougherty owes me—Edna knows not of it—& it will go uncollected I fear—It is much needed just now—As I cannot work—If you could kindly inform Edna—So she may collect—It is much needed just now—As I am ill & abed and of little use to them.
tobin “badger” muller
Mr. Johns Melburn did take me to a remote part of the manse and touch me in an evil way. I was just a boy. And he an eminence. Not a word of protest did I (could I) speak. Ever. To anyone. I should like to speak of it now. I should like to speak of it and speak of—
vesper johannes
Mr. DeCroix and Professor Bloomer came blundering up, shouldering Mr. Johannes rudely aside, lurching bumpily up into the doorway, conjoined at the hip from their many years of mutual flattery.
the reverend everly thomas
In my time, I made many discoveries previously unknown in the scientific pantheon, for which I was never properly credited. Have I mentioned how dull my peers were? My research dwarfed theirs in importance. Yet they believed their research dwarfed mine. I was regarded by them as a minor figure. When I knew very well I was quite major. I produced eighteen distinct brilliant tomes, each breaking entirely new ground on such topics as—
Many apologies.
I find myself temporarily unable to recall my exact area of study.
I do, however, recall that final ignominy, when, after my departure, and before I was propelled here (as I lingered, agitated, in that familiar maple), my house was emptied and my papers lugged into a vacant lot and—
professor edmund bloomer
Don’t get worked up, sir.
When you lurch about like that it pains me at our juncture.
lawrence t. decroix
And burned!
My brilliant unpublished tomes were burned.
professor edmund bloomer
There, there. Do you know what became of my pickle factory? Not to change the subject? It stands. Of that, at least, I am proud. Although pickles are no longer made there. It is now some sort of boat-building establishment. And the name of DeCroix Pickles has been all but—
lawrence t. decroix
So unfair! My work, my ground-breaking work, went up in a cloud of—
professor edmund bloomer
I feel that way too, you know, about my factory. It was so vital, in its day. The morning-whistle would sound, and from the surrounding houses would pour my seven hundred loyal—
lawrence t. decroix
Thank you for agreeing it was so unfair. Not many are so keenly discriminating. So intuitively sympathetic. To my work. I believe you would have recognized me for the great man I was. If only we had met! If only you had been the editor of one of the premier scientific journals of my day! You could have published my work. And seen that I got my due. At any rate, I thank you, from the heart, for acknowledging that I was the foremost thinker of my time. I feel some measure of redemption, having been at last recognized as the finest mind of my generation.
professor edmund bloomer
Say, did you ever taste one of my pickles? If you ate a pickle in the Washington area during the early part of the century, the odds are good it was a “DeCroix Ferocious.”
lawrence t. decroix
The jars had a red-and-yellow label, as I recall. And upon each, a drawing of a wolverine in a waistcoat?
professor edmund bloomer
Yes! Those were my pickles! Did you think they were good?
lawrence t. decroix
Very good.
professor edmund bloomer
Thank you so much, for saying my pickles were excellent. Thanks for saying that, of all of the pickles being made in the nation at that time, mine were, by far, the best.
lawrence t. decroix
They were like my work: the greatest in the world at that time. Wouldn’t you say? Can we agree upon that point?
professor edmund bloomer
I believe we can.
I believe we have.
On many prior occasions.
lawrence t. decroix
I hope that soon you will again remind me of how much you thought of my work. I find it touching that you admire me so. And perhaps, someday soon, I will again remark upon how fine your pickles were, if that would please you. I would be happy to do so. You are worth it. You who are so loyal, and admire me so much.
professor edmund bloomer
Strange, isn’t it? To have dedicated one’s life to a certain venture, neglecting other aspects of one’s life, only to have that venture, in the end, amount to nothing at all, the products of one’s labors utterly forgotten?
lawrence t. decroix
Fortunately, that does not pertain to us.
As we have (once again) reminded ourselves: our considerable accomplishments live on!
professor edmund bloomer
The Barons now charged the doorway, bursting between the two men, briefly severing their conjoinment.
hans vollman
Ouch.
professor edmund bloomer
Say, that stings!
lawrence t. decroix
Upon the separation, and again upon the rejoining!
professor edmund bloomer
Sir.
Rev.
eddie baron
We didn’t get to finish.
betsy baron
You rushed us off.
Before.
eddie baron
So.
betsy baron
As I was saying:
F—– them! Those f—–ing ingrate snakes have no G——ed right to blame us for a f—–ing thing until they walk a f—–ing mile in our G——ed shoes and neither f—–ing one of the little s—–heads has walked even a s—–ing half-mile in our f—–ing shoes.
eddie baron
Maybe we had too many parties. Maybe that’s why they never come see us.
betsy baron
Them kids was born a shrunken old lady and a shrunken old m
an who didn’t know the first G——n thing about how to f—–ing enjoy! You know another word for “party”? Celebration. You know another word for “celebrate”? Have f—–ing fun. Make f—–ing merry. So we drank a little f—–ing ale! Had some G——n wine!
eddie baron
Touch of opium now and—
betsy baron
We might have sampled that f—–ing substance, so as not to offend—who was it? That brought that? Who started that whole—
eddie baron
Benjamin.
betsy baron
Ah, Benjamin, Benjy! Remember that f—–ing mustache? Didn’t we hold him down that once, at McMurray’s, shave him bald?
eddie baron
I once made the beast with Benjy.
betsy baron
Ah, who didn’t? Ha ha! No: although I personally never made the f—–ing beast with Benjy, as far as I remember, still, there were times when, among the general, ah, hilarity, it got a little f—–ing unclear just who was making the G——ed beast with—
eddie baron
Then, from among that multitude, came a tremendous shout—
the reverend everly thomas
An unhappy murmur arose—
roger bevins iii
And many people began shouting, saying, no, no, it was not appropriate, demanding that the “darkies”—
the reverend everly thomas
“Black beasts”—
hans vollman
“Damnable savages”—
roger bevins iii
Return at once, from whence they had come.
the reverend everly thomas
It was a momentous occasion and they must not spoil it.
hans vollman
Let them have their chance, someone cried from the throng. In this place, we are all the same.
Speak for yourself, someone else shouted.
And we heard the sound of blows.
the reverend everly thomas
But several men and women of the sable hue, having boldly followed the Barons over from the mass grave on the other side of the fence—
roger bevins iii
Were not to be dissuaded.
hans vollman
And would, it seemed, have their say.
the reverend everly thomas
LXVI.
I did always try, in all my aspects, to hew to elevation; to dispense therewith, into myself, those higher virtues of which, rendered without, one verily may sag, and, dwelling there in one’s misfortune, what avails.
elson farwell
What the f—– is he saying?
eddie baron
Say it more simple, Elson. So they can f—–ing follow you.
betsy baron
Born to an unlucky fate, perforce, what attraction if, saddling sad fate unremorsed, I only succumbed, but, rather, was, instead, always happy to have loaded upon me any fulsome burdens, never dismaying those febrile opportunities to better oneself, such as books (which I many minutes stole from, abjectly accruing ample notes, on pages gleaned from Mr. East’s discard), to wit: find out and spelunk what was best and most beaming in my soul, such as: clean linens; gentle motions (as in the dance); shimmering forks held high in mid-conversation, while emitting a jolly whinnying laugh.
elson farwell
The sweetest f—–er, but talks so G——ed complicated.
eddie baron
His hip, in our pit? Is right against my hip.
betsy baron
His a—– rests right here, against my shoulder.
eddie baron
We don’t mind. He’s our friend.
betsy baron
He’s one of them, but he’s still our friend.
eddie baron
Always polite.
betsy baron
Knows his place.
eddie baron
Exeunting myself to those higher latitudes would, I felt, vault to the fore my more shining aspects, and soon enough (ran my hopes), the Easts, heartily discussing my prospects in some room of constant gleam, would decide, thereunto, to promote me, to the house, and instantly my suffering, which had gauged, gnarred, and vexed, bechiding with sooth my loftish sensitivities, would be converted, and, gladsome shouting amidway, I would obtain that life which, more tender (i.e., less bashing, more kindlike smiles), would, ah…
elson farwell
Assuage.
eddie baron
He always forgets “assuage” right there.
betsy baron
Assuage, yes.
Would assuage my previous unhappiness.
elson farwell
Now watch.
betsy baron
Madder he gets, better he talks.
eddie baron
But alas.
As it turned out.
My previous unhappiness was not assuaged.
Far from it.
One day, we were taken out of Washington, to the country, for the fireworks. Falling ill, I stumbled along the trail, and could not get up, and the sun burning down brightly, how I writhed upon the—
Oh.
elson farwell
How you “writhed upon the trail, and yet no one came.”
betsy baron
How I writhed upon the trail, and yet no one came. Until finally, the youngest East child, Reginald, passed, and inquired, Elson, are you ill? And I said that I was, very much so. And he said he would send someone back for me at once.
But no one came. Mr. East did not come, Mrs. East did not come, none of the other East children came, not even Mr. Chasterly, our brutal smirking overseer, ever came.
I believe Reginald may have, in all the excitement about the fireworks, forgotten.
Forgotten about me.
Who had known him since his birth.
And lying there it—
Drat.
elson farwell
Lying there it occurred to you “with the force of revelation.”
eddie baron
Lying there it occurred to me with the force of revelation, that I (Elson Farwell, best boy, fondest son of my mother) had been sorely tricked, and (colorful rockets now bursting overhead, into such shapes as Old Glory, and a walking chicken, and a green-gold Comet, as if to celebrate the Joke being played upon me, each new explosion eliciting fresh cries of delight from those fat, spoiled East children) I regretted every moment of conciliation and smiling and convivial waiting, and longed with all my heart (there in the dappled tree-moonshade, that, in my final moments, became allshade) that my health might be restored to me, if just for one hour, so that I might correct my grand error, and enstrip myself of all cowering and false-talk and preening diction, and rise up even yet and stride back to those always-happy Easts and club and knife and rend and destroy them and tear down that tent and burn down that house, and thus secure for myself—
Oh.
elson farwell
“A certain modicum of humanity, for only a beast—”
betsy baron
A certain modicum of humanity, yes, for only a beast would endure what I had endured without objection; and not even a beast would conspire to put on the manners of its masters and hope thereby to be rewarded.
But it was too late.
It is too late.
It shall ever be too late.
When my absence was noted next day, they sent Mr. Chasterly back, and he, having found me, did not deem it necessary to bring me home, but contracted with a German, who threw me on a cart with several others—
elson farwell
That d—– Kraut stole half a loaf off my wife.
eddie baron
Nice bread too.
betsy baron
Which is where we first met Elson.
eddie baron
On back of that cart.
betsy baron
And been friends ever since.
eddie baron
Never will I leave here until I have had my revenge.
elson farw
ell
Well, you’re not getting any f—–ing revenge, pal.
eddie baron
There’s a lesson in what happened to you, Elson.
betsy baron
If you ain’t white, don’t try to be white.
eddie baron
If I could return to that previous place, I would avenge myself even now.
Bring down the bedroom shelving on the fat head of little Reginald; cause the Mrs. to break her neck upon the stairs; cause the Mr.’s clothes to burst into flame as he sat at her paralytic’s bedside; send a pestilence upon that house and kill all the children, even the baby, who I previously very much—
elson farwell
Well, I must say, Elson—and pardon me for interrupting—I did not have any such harsh experiences as you have been describing.
Mr. Conner, and his good wife, and all of their children and grandchildren were like family to me. Never was I separated from my own wife or children. We ate well, were never beaten. They had given us a small but attractive yellow cottage. It was a happy arrangement, all things considered. All men labor under some impingements on their freedom; none is absolutely at liberty. I was (I felt, for the most part) living simply an exaggerated version of any man’s life. I adored my wife and our children, and did what any working man would do: exactly what would benefit them and keep us all living convivially together; i.e., I endeavored to be a good and honorable servant, to people who were, fortunately for us, good and honorable people themselves.