Story 640: Last Generation/Next Generation: 1776/1808

 (Originally written as a one-act play in 2021) 

            1776 

(In a farmhouse, there is a living area with a large table to the right side and three wooden chairs, two on the right and one on the left; one door at the left that leads outside and one door at the right that leads to the kitchen.  William is pacing the room, and then abruptly opens the outside door)

William: (Shouts outside) Benjamin, get in here!  (Leaves the door open and sits on one of the chairs on the right)

Benjamin: (Slouches in from outside) Yes, Father?

William: Sit down, Son; I want to speak with you.  (Benjamin closes the door and sits on the chair on the left, slumping in the seat) Now, seeing as you are nearly a man and I have barely said five words to you since your birth, you know that me summoning you here must be of great import.

Benjamin: (Borderline sullen) Yes, Father.

William: (Pauses when sensing the sass, then chooses to ignore it) Hm.  So, I have been observing your behavior these past few months, and I can no longer remain silent whilst you engage in activities that are becoming increasingly destructive, both to yourself and to this family.

Benjamin: I do not know of what you speak, Father.

William: (Reaches beside his chair and holds up a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag) Have any idea from whence this came, then?  Are you concerned of late about the welfare of rattlesnakes, perchance?

Benjamin: (Stands abruptly) Give that back!

William: Mind your tone, insolent pup.  (Benjamin slowly sits again) Whilst you are under my roof, you will fear and tremble before me as any child should before their sire!  Now, what is this – (Shakes the flag at Benjamin, then angrily snaps it back to the floor next to his chair) all about?  Tell me it is anything but you getting yourself mixed up with those… treasonous, rabble-rousing, rebellious anarchists!

Benjamin: They are called Patriots, Father!

William: Patriots, my foot!  If they actually were patriots, they would remain loyal to their King!

Benjamin: But when a king is not loyal to his subjects and treats them little better than serfs, what choice do they have but to fight for their freedom, their rights, their dignity?!  That is patriotism, Father – loyalty to one’s country and to the people in it!

William: (Holds his hands over his ears and rocks back and forth) Treason talk!  Treason talk!  La-la-la-la-la-la!

Benjamin: (Makes a sound of disgust) You just do not understand!  You, with your life of comfort and ease, what would you know what the rest of us suffer?

William: (No longer holding his ears) In what house did you grow up?  You seem to forget that, back in my day, I survived not one but two bouts of smallpox, along with having to serve in the French and Indian War, even though I had no interest in fighting over which country took more of the Native peoples’ lands, but did I complain?  No, I did my duty!  Not to mention that this farm is hardly Buckingham Palace, and every day I labor to keep you fed, and clothed, and sheltered!  As a matter of fact, this is the longest amount of time I have sat in one place in over 25 years!

Benjamin: That is all well and good, but relatively speaking, you live a life of luxury.

William: Ha!  You have a funny way of seeing the world – you get that from your mother.

(A woman enters from the door on the right, wiping her sweaty face with a burned apron)

Mary: (Nearly breathless) You called, William?

William: This does not concern you, Mary – back to the kitchen with ye, and do not show your face again unless it is to say that dinner is served!

Mary: Of course!  (Turns and mutters) Tyrant.  (Labors back in the kitchen)

William: And so, Benjamin, I am not familiar with this luxury in which you believe I reside: do explain.

Benjamin: Think on it, Father: whilst thousands live on the streets or out in the woods, scrambling for scraps, we are able to eat wholesome meals every day, and have two entire rooms to call our own.

William: Well-earned, I thank you.

Benjamin: And all that you say you suffer, you know that would be lessened if the taxes on… everything were not so many nor so high!

William: Heh!  Do not remind me of those – barely make enough to prevent us from living in the woods.

Benjamin: And remember when we had to house those soldiers last winter, in our home, whilst we struggled not to freeze to death in the barn?

William: Like it or nay, that was our duty.

Benjamin: It should not have been!  Practically made a servant, on your own property!  Just one of many Intolerable Acts – (William scoffs) yes, Intolerable, I say!  And not being allowed to have our own town meetings; the port of Boston closed; civilians fired upon!  We must break free from our chains of slavery, Father!

William: (Crooks an eyebrow at him) And whilst you are breaking your supposed chains, will you also be breaking the actual chains currently on the actual enslaved people in this country, hm?

Benjamin: (Fidgets) Uh….

William: Well?

Benjamin: (In a small voice) Baby steps.

William: (Waves him off) Argh, you are all noise.  You whine about trifles and cause a lot of turmoil for everyone, yet have no conception of how to get any of the real work done!  We are fine as we are, Son, and any troubles we face are as temporary as everything else in life, just – leave it be!

Benjamin: (Stands in a passion) Never!  Not whilst we live in oppression under a tyrant!

William: (Also stands) And what exactly do you plan to do with your newfound freedom?  Go toss some more perfectly good tea into the harbor?  (Gasps in horror) You were not part of that shameful display those ridiculous Sons of Liberty partook in, were you?!

Benjamin: (Sits) Only because I missed the planning meeting, to my eternal regret.

William: (Buries his head in his hands while sinking back into his chair) Oh, that I should live to see the day when a son of mine became a common rebel!  Woe is me, that I must be confronted with his wrongheaded behavior, insensible to all reason – (Benjamin rolls his eyes, takes a knife and a stick out of his pockets, and starts whittling) not a single ounce of respect for his aged father, no gratitude, no – (Lowers his hands and sees Benjamin whittling) Are – are you – dare you whittle whilst I am speaking to you?!

Benjamin: (Stands again) Yes, Father, I dare: I dare to stand up for what I believe in, to fight for what is right, for myself and for my fellow Americans –

William: (Clutches his chest in horror) Ah!

Benjamin: – and if that means defying you and everything you represent, then so be it!  (Pockets the knife and stick, stalks to the outside door, opens it, and turns back) I hold no anger in my heart toward you, Father: only pity.  I just hope one day you fully understand how wrong you have been.  (Exits, leaving the door open)

William: And I just hope one day you have a son JUST LIKE YOU! 

1808 

(In a farmhouse, there is a living area with a large table to the right side and three wooden chairs, two on the right and one on the left; one door at the left that leads outside and one door at the right that leads to the kitchen.  Benjamin, older and looking very much like William, is pacing the room, and then abruptly opens the outside door)

Benjamin: (Shouts outside) Thomas, get in here! (Leaves the door open and sits on one of the chairs on the right)

            Thomas: (Slouches in from outside) Yes, Father?

Benjamin: Sit down, Son; I want to speak with you.  (Thomas closes the door and sits on the chair on the left, slumping in the seat) Now, seeing as you are nearly a man and I have barely said five words to you since your birth, you know that me summoning you here must be of great import.

            Thomas: (Borderline sullen) Yes, Father.

Benjamin: (Pauses when sensing the sass, then chooses to ignore it) Hm.  So, I have been observing your behavior these past few months, and I can no longer remain silent whilst you engage in activities that are becoming increasingly destructive, both to yourself and to this family.

            Thomas: I do not know of what you speak, Father.

Benjamin: (Reaches besides his chair and holds up a “No Embargo!” sign) I know a rebel when I see one.

Thomas: (Slumps further) Oh Father, what would you know about tyranny and oppression?                                                                

Benjamin: (Drops the sign, flabbergasted) I – you – I would have you know that I risked my life to make this country free; I was fighting the rule of dictators before you were even born; and I will eat my hat if a son of mine claims to know more about tyranny and oppression than I do!

Thomas: Yes, Father, we know all about you risking everything so that Mother and I would be safe from tyranny and oppression.

(A woman enters from the door on the right, wiping her sweaty face with a burned apron)                        

Martha : (Nearly breathless) You called, Thomas?

            Benjamin: This does not concern you, Martha – back in the kitchen with ye, and do not show your face again unless it is to say that dinner is served!

            Martha: Of course!  (Turns and mutters) Tyrant.  (Labors back in the kitchen))

Thomas: But Father, do you not see that this Embargo Act closing our ports is destroying our economy and crushing our freedoms just as much as those Intolerable Acts did in your youth?

Benjamin: The two hardly can be compared.

Thomas: Well then, what about the Alien and Sedition Acts, directed against our own citizens, hardly 10 years ago!  Were they not the same as those acts that you fought against as tyranny?  And if our own presumably democratic government did it once, it could easily do it again!

Benjamin: And rightfully so, those treasonous, rabble-rousing, rebellious anarchists!  They do not know how lucky they have it!  (Thomas rolls his eyes, takes a knife and a stick out of his pockets, and starts whittling; Benjamin speaks to the middle distance and does not notice what Thomas is doing) You young people today have no idea what it is to suffer under actual oppression!  You should be grateful for what my generation sacrificed so that you could live the life of luxury you do now!  Why, back in my day….

Story 638: What Can I Give for Father’s Day?

 WEDNESDAY 

“Hi kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hey Dad, just calling to ask what can I give for Father’s Day this Sunday?”

“Oh, gee, thanks, but Father’s Day’s actually the following Sunday.”

“…Dangit!” <CLICK>

“Hello?... This kid, I’m telling you….” 

THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY 

“Hi kiddo, what’s up?”

“OK, for real this time: what can I give you for Father’s Day this Sunday?”

“Heh-heh, right, yeah – you don’t have to give me anything: your existence alone is present enough for me.”

“Oh come on!”

“You know, your mother and I try to give you an easier life than we had, and yet you insist on undermining that at every opportunity.”

“I can’t just not give you something on Father’s Day!  It’s up there with birthdays – gifts are obligatory, or else you might as well quit the entire family!”

“What?”

“Please, just tell me you want something that you’d never get for yourself: concert tickets – a motorcycle – a football team?!”

“<Sigh> Fine, you can get me… socks.”

“….”

“….”

“Socks.”

“Yeah, the ones I have are getting worn out and I need new ones for pickleball.  The white athletic kind, you know, that I can wear with my sneakers and pull up over my calves.”

“….”

“….”

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you.”

“You can be a bit dramatic, but new socks really are what I would like.”

“Very well, Father: if socks are what you want, then socks are what you shall get.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” 

SUNDAY 

“Happy Father’s Day!”

“Hiiii… What’s… all… this?”

“Socks!  Just like you wanted!”

“But you’re trucking in so many bags here – how many pairs did you get?!”

“A year’s supply, so now none of them will have a chance to wear out!”

“Oh my… thank you?”

“Certainly!  Nothing’s too good for MY FATHER ON FATHER’S DAY!”

“Just one more thing.”

“Anything!”

“Put all of them away somewhere before your mother sees them.”

Story 633: What Can I Give for Mother’s Day?

            “Oh hi honey, what’s up?”

“Well, I’m calling in a panic right now, an absolute panic!”

“Dear me, why’s that?”

“Because Mother’s Day is this Sunday, and I have absolutely no idea what to give you this year!”

“Aw honey, you know you don’t have to give me anything – ”

“Don’t tell me that Mother’s Lie!”

“ – And it really doesn’t matter anyway since Mother’s Day was last Sunday.”

“…What?”

“Mother’s Day already passed, so save this for my birthday instead.”

“No, no, Mother’s Day is this Sunday, it’s the third Sunday of the month!”

“That’s Father’s Day, dear.”

“Since when?!”

“Since whenever both holidays were established here, I think.”

“OK, well, why didn’t you say anything when I didn’t come over on Sunday and didn’t even call you!  All day!”

“Well, one doesn’t like to mention such things; I figured you’d just forgot, and in a way, you did.  But it was an honest mistake – nothing to fret about.”

“This is an even bigger disaster than I thought!  You spent all day at home, alone, staring out the window and thinking I’m the worst child a mother ever had, I could just burst from the shame!”

“Actually, your father and I had a wonderful time whitewater rafting that day, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t even think about you until the following morning.”

“See!  I’m such an awful child that you didn’t even remember you had one on that day of all days!”

“Honey, it’s really not that big a deal; I understand you got a little mixed up on the dates and we’ll just celebrate on another day.  Not this Sunday, though – I’ll be doing one of those cure walks with my book club and it’ll be extremely early in the morning, so that’ll wipe me out for the rest of the day.”

“Fine-fine, but back to the original subject: what do you want?!”

“<Sigh> Brunch would be lovely.”

“No cooperation at all!”  <CLICK>

“Certainly doesn’t get all that drama from my side of the family, I’ll tell you.” 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          * 

“Happy Mother’s Day!  Two weeks later!”

“Hi, honey!  What’s all this out on the front lawn?”

“Well, since you refused to tell me what to get you, I had to make an executive decision and order a traveling circus.”

“You did what?”

“Oh yeah, this company does stuff like this all the time – you don’t still have the sprinkler system installed in the lawn, do you?”

“What?  No, that’s all gone, but – ”

“Great – OK FELLAS, NO SPRINKLER HEADS TO WORRY ABOUT SO JUST AVOID THE WATER AND GAS LINES, ALL RIGHT?”

“Honey, what is going on?!”

“Don’t worry, they just need to know where to set up the big top.”

“On the front lawn?!”

“You know, you’re right – backyard has so much more space.  OK FELLAS, MOVE IT ALL TO THE BACK INSTEAD!”

“Wait-wait-wait – this is all too much; I didn’t want you spending what is clearly a fortune on a performance troupe!”

“Oh, that’s not an issue: the ringmaster owes me a favor.  YOU CAN USE THE HOSE ATTACHED TO THE HOUSE TO FILL UP THE DIVING POOL, AND TELL THE TRAPEZE ARTISTS TO GO AS HIGH UP AS THEY WANT!  Just send me your next month’s water bill – they shouldn’t need your electricity, but let me know if they wind up tapping into it later.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about – oh, all these people, all over the place – wait, no, don’t tell me there’re going to be lions or elephants or horses coming through here too, are there?!”

“Hm?  Oh, no, this is a humans-only circus; don’t need that extra headache.”

“OK.  Do they need me to feed them, then?”

“On your special day?!  No-no-no – the catering trailer should be around any minute now.  You don’t mind if they park and set up on the grass, do you?  I don’t think there’s enough room on the street.”

“You really went through too much trouble, you know.”

“On the contrary: not nearly enough to make up for my horrific oversight and failure as an offspring!”

“Yes, well, I’d actually forgotten all about that until just now.  Let me go get your father and let him know the circus is in our backyard.”

“No need: I see he’s out there now, telling them where to set up the big top.”

“Of course he is.  Well, thank you for the entertaining show – and I’m sure the circus performances will be fun, too.”

“Certainly!  Nothing is too good for MY MOTHER on MOTHER’S DAY!”

“I do have one request.”

“Anything!”

“Next year, stick to brunch.”

Story 629: Easter and Passover = A Lot of Work

             “Can you believe it’s only the beginning of April and we’ve reached 80°F over 10 times already this year?”

“No, but I LOVE IT.”

“I would too, if we hadn’t leap-frogged over spring and straight into summer, then back into winter for another go-around of chilly rain before off into summer again.”

“Well, you know what they say: ‘April chilly rain brings May grass.’”

“…No one has ever said that.”

“Anyway, this all reminds me that it’s my turn to host the family at Easter this year, and I’ve been dreading it for weeks.”

“Oh?  What for?  Don’t you love all the marshmallow candy and colored eggs and giant bunnies and all that other stuff that’s only acceptable at this time of year?  And don’t you always say your family is the only thing that matters in your life or something like that?”

“Well, yes, but there’s also just so dang many of us.”

“True, there are.”

“I can only fit so many on couches and chairs and floors in the living and dining rooms before they start spilling over into my realm, The Kitchen, and that simply won’t do.”

“Aye, no.”

“We have a perfectly fine backyard, but if the chilly rain decides to make an appearance that lovely morn, then forget about anyone going outside.”

“I hear you.”

“And even if the Sun is blazing a balmy 60°, they’ll still all cram themselves into the living room, dining room, and The Kitchen, because no one wants to move.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And yet, when it’s time to clean up – tumbleweeds and crickets.”

“Oh, yes.”

“That’s not entirely true – a few of the regulars pitch in, bless them, but overall it’s the opposite: watching the game, diving into the digital world, or napping.”

“True, true.”

“And the blessing of all that food!  Weeks to plan, days to prepare, gone in minutes, still gallons of leftovers I almost have to pay people to get enough out of the house so we manage to have the rest before it spoils.”

“Agreed.”

“Wish I could take the next day off to recover from all that plus the furniture clean-up, but nope!  Back to the office bright and early the next morning, which of course is a Monday, Heaven help me.”

“The soul sighs.”

“So, enough of all that: how’s it with you for Passover this year?”

“Oh, same: entire family’s coming over for seder, which of course is on a weeknight this year.”

“Of course.”

“All that prep, all that food, and we have to wait until after sundown to start so it’s even later by the time we start cleaning up everything and everyone goes home, and then, you guessed it, right back to the office the next day.”

“Always the way.”

“Doing all that work year after year, you start wondering why we even go through the whole thing to begin with.”

 “I know – there must be some reasons for these holidays.”