BUTTERFLY EFFECT
This one from the milkweed growing against
all odds on the edge of my driveway or
one of those rescued from a predator
in Polly’s patch. Remember the story
that one might change the weather of the world?
Maybe not the movement of its wings.
Maybe just the vision: that brave orange
and black animal, fragile against a leaf,
blown across the sky, what it’s like to change
that way, and who knows who, seeing it, will change?
BREAKING THE NEWS by Mary F. C. Pratt This play was part of a 24 hour play festival from "The Garden of Voices," a producer of podcasts like "old fashioned radio dramas." We started at 7 p.m. The playwrights had till 9 a.m. to send the scripts to the producer, and the directors and actors had till 7 that evening to rehearse. The plays were then presented live on Zoom, and will be available later as a podcast. The participants decided on a charity--Planned Parenthood--and came up with some themes that fit in with the charity's mission. I chose these: Generational differences in mentality of what families should be. Young couple deciding if it's the right time to start a family CHARACTERS SUSAN A retired teacher, in her 70s. JENNIFER Susan’s stepdaughter, a businesswoman in her fifties. JASON Jennifer’s son, working the gig economy. In his twenties. SETTING A coffee shop. The present. At “Rise”: Coffee shop sounds. SUSAN is seated. JASON Hi Gram. Thanks so much for coming. SUSAN Not a problem. What are grandmothers for? JASON Cookies? Birthday presents? Moral support? SUSAN All of the above. Where’s your mother, speaking of moral support? JASON She texted awhile ago to say she’s running late. Some meeting she can’t get out of. SUSAN Well, okay then. This will give us a chance to get caught up. I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been driving that delivery truck. JASON I know, right? Weird hours. But it’s the best job I’ve had for awhile. Anyhow. It’s good to see you, Gram. SUSAN Likewise. I’ve missed you. So what’s up? All you said was you didn’t want to talk to your mother alone. It sounds serious, kid. What’s going on? JASON Well, it is kind of serious. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we should wait till Mom gets here. SUSAN Why? So you won’t have to repeat yourself, or because you don’t want her knowing that you talk to me sometimes when she’s not around? JASON Ha. All of the above. Can you read my mind? SUSAN Of course not. It’s just that it’s a lot like mine. JASON Yeah, it is, isn’t it? And that’s weird because I’m not even related to you. SUSAN Be that as it may. Your grandfather is related to you, and I’ve been married to him long enough to know how his mind works. JASON Um. Not like mine for sure. SUSAN Exactly. Now what’s going on? JASON Well, you know Darcy? SUSAN Of course I know Darcy. You’ve been together two years. JASON Three. SUSAN Wow, already. But yes, I know Darcy. JASON Well—we’ve been thinking about having a baby. SUSAN You and Darcy? JASON Yeah, Gram. Me and Darcy. SUSAN Of course. You just caught me by surprise there. Your mother will have a shit fit. But I guess you know that or you wouldn’t have asked me to be here. JASON Yeah, she will. And it’s weird because you won’t. Have a fit. I mean, you aren’t, right? And I knew you wouldn’t. And she’s younger than you, no offense. I mean, obviously because you’re her stepmother and all, but. . . SUSAN Well, technically I could be her stepmother and younger than she, you know. If your grandfather had married somebody very young after your real grandmother died. JASON Hey, you are my real grandmother. Cut it out. SUSAN I know, I know. And you are definitely my real grandson. So, real grandson, your mother will have a fit. That’s a given. How about your father? JASON Wbo knows? I don’t care. I haven’t seen him forever. He’s never even met Darcy. All the family that matters is you and Grandpa and Mom. Would it bother Grandpa? SUSAN Of course not. He’s all about live and let live. You know that. JASON Yeah. He didn’t bat an eye about Darcy. SUSAN We’re old hippies you know, sweetie. We invented sex and drugs and rock and roll and shacking up. “Living together without benefit of clergy” they used to call it. How quaint is that? JASON So what happened to Mom? How come she’s so—straight? SUSAN She got religion. And—she rebelled, right? Goes both ways. Our parenting style was pretty casual, to say the least. JASON Yeah, but you married Grandpa. I mean, you weren’t like in a commune or something. SUSAN Okay. All right then. So, Jason, you and Darcy want to have a baby? JASON Ooops. Here comes Mom. (Door opens, JENNIFER enters.) SUSAN Jennifer, over here! JENNIFER (From the counter.) I’m going to grab a coffee and I’ll be right there. Though God only knows I don’t need more. SUSAN Take your time. (To JASON) Okay. You’re on. And no matter what, I’ve got your back. JASON I’m really nervous about this. SUSAN Of course you are. It will be fine. Really. JENNIFER (Comes to the table.) So what are you two plotting? Jason, you look so guilty. And so do you, Sue. What are you plotting? SUSAN The revolution, what else? JENNIFER It wouldn’t surprise me. God only knows we need one. We need something. The traffic on Main Street, even before rush hour, is as bad as rush hour. And the price of gas! And now they want to raise our property taxes again, and for what? And clearly the government’s gone to hell. SUSAN Jennifer dear, we know all about the world. It is a mess. We agree. So let’s not talk about that. We all agree it’s a mess. We’re here because Jason has something to say that’s even more important than property taxes. Jason? JASON Yeah. Well. Um. Mom. Darcy and me are thinking about having a baby. We’ve pretty much decided to. I mean, it isn’t completely definite yet, but we’re pretty serious. JENNIFER What? A baby? SUSAN No need to inform the whole café, Jennifer. It is exciting, but still. This is a family matter. JENNIFER Exciting? Exciting? It’s appalling. Jason! I thought you’d outgrown this business. I mean, living with Darcy without being married, but now this. . . JASON Mom, you’re the one who didn’t want us to get married, remember? You thought it would blow over. Well it didn’t. We really love each other. And now we want to have a baby. JENNIFER But why? Whatever for? With the world going to pieces, and you don’t have a real job— SUSAN When your father and mother had you, Jennifer, the world was going to pieces, too. The war in Viet Nam was going on and on, we all figured the Soviets would nuke us, we were just beginning to understand about how bad air and water pollution were. And, well, my dear, we had no real jobs. Your dad was doing seasonal apple picking when your mom got pregnant. JENNIFER But he went to college. He became a professor. He wasn’t just a—a barrista, or a van driveror whatever. SUSAN When your mother got pregnant, your father was a dope-smoking wanna-be artist, Jennifer, and your mother thought she was the next Edna St. Vincent Millay. I was a budding herbalist, pardon the pun. Your father didn’t go to college until after you were born, after we were married. I was there. I know. JENNIFER But he always told me. . . SUSAN I know what he always told you, and I never corrected him. You were conceived on a commune, presumably by your father. You survived your birth, but your mother, who was my dearest friend, didn’t. And your father never wanted you to know because it was so awful and so hard and because, yes, he managed to make something of his life after all. JASON Wow, Gram. JENNIFER Sue, I didn’t. . . . SUSAN I know. And it’s all right. Those were the best of times and the worst of times. It was crazy, but we thought we’d change the world. We really thought we would. And we really loved one another out there on the farm, and it all sort of worked for awhile. You were the second baby born there, and we were all so happy till your mom started bleeding and we didn’t get her to the hospital in time, and she died and it all just fell apart after that. It all just fell apart. JENNIFER But I thought she. . . SUSAN I know, Jennifer. I know. Your dad and I will sit down with you later and tell you the whole story. JENNIFER Sue. . . SUSAN But this conversation is about Jason and Darcy. And by the way, Jason is not what you call “just a”van driver or “just a” anything. He’s a responsible person, trying to make a living in a hard world. And Darcy is a law clerk, for goodness’ sake. So even though the world is going to hell, they’re as equipped as anybody to be parents. Better equipped than we were, believe me. JENNIFER I don’t know what to say. SUSAN Try saying nothing. JASON Uh, Mom? You okay? JENNIFER I don’t know. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to think. I didn’t know any of that. I thought Dad and Mom lived in a house with a bunch of people when they were in college. I didn’t know it was a—commune. I’m going to—I’m going to the restroom. I have to go put some water on my face. I’ll be right back. JASON You sure you’re okay, Mom? JENNIFER I will be. I will be okay. This is just a lot. I’ll be okay. (Exits.) JASON Grandma! SUSAN Yeah? JASON Is that for real? I mean, all that weird stuff about grandpa and drugs and communes? SUSAN Of course it’s real. You’ve seen the photos of us on the farm. JASON Yeah, but I didn’t know it was—I mean, I didn’t know it was something like that. Mom said it was when you were in college, like she said. SUSAN Sweetie, I told you we invented sex, drugs and rock and roll. Flower power. All you need is love, right? And your grandpa and I don’t talk about it much because—well, we just don’t. It’s our past and it’s hard to get younger people to understand what it was like. Like we didn’t understand our parents growing up in the depression and World War Two. And your kids won’t understand you growing up in the trump and covid and climate change years. JASON Thanks, Gram. SUSAN For what? It isn’t over yet. Your mom will have more to say. JASON I know But thanks just for saying that about my kids not understanding. My kids. Mine and Darcy’s. Or kid. I think we might only try for one. SUSAN Here she comes. JENNIFER (Entering.) There. I feel a little better. I can handle this. Okay. So Jason, maybe you can handle parenthood. It will be harder for you than it was for your father and me, but maybe not as hard as it was for your grandparents. I get that. I think. But Jason—- JASON Yeah? JENNIFER You’re going to adopt, right? I mean, Darcy’s a—man. JASON Yeah, but no, Mom. We’re planning to—I mean we’re thinking about—trying for a biological one. JENNIFER But Darcy’s. . . JASON He has a uterus, Mom. JENNIFER But Jason. That’s—-what will people think? What will— SUSAN What will the neighbors say? Is that what you mean, Jennifer? Is that what you’re worried about? JENNIFER Well, it’s just—unnatural. It’s too strange, Jason. It’s just too strange and unnatural and you just shouldn’t do it. If God wanted men to have babies— SUSAN . . . he would have given them uteruses? Or is it uteri? In this case, Jennifer, that’s exactly what God, or whatever, has done. (Brief silence, and an increase in coffee shop sounds.) JENNIFER Oh. Oh. I didn’t think of that. There’s so much I don’t understand. The world is so complicated. I just don’t understand anything any more. SUSAN Has anybody ever understood anything? Really understood anything? JENNIFER Well, I always thought I would someday. When I got to be your age, maybe. Sue, don’t you understand at least some things? SUSAN Nope. Hardly anything. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. Life goes on. And now you get to look forward to being a grandmnother yourself. That is, if Jason and Darcy decide to go through with it. Are you going to, sweetie? JASON Well, yeah. We’ve pretty much decided to. We were just hoping Mom wouldn’t mind too much. And, well, we’d kinda like to get married first. Do you mind that now, Mom? JENNIFER It will take—well. It will take some getting used to. Seeing Darcy pregnant? Okay. I think I can do that. I always liked Darcy. And sure. Clearly you two love each other, so get married. I think JENNIFER (Cont.) it’s time. My son-in-law, the mother of my grandchild. It sounds strange, but—yes. I can say it. Can’t I, Sue? My son-in-law, the mother of my grandchild! I like it! JASON Thanks, Mom. Love you. JENNIFER I love you, too. And oh! Look at the time! I’ve got to run. I’ve got to get dinner on the table before choir practice. ‘Bye! SUSAN ‘Bye, Jennifer. I am proud of you. JENNIFER Thanks, Sue. ‘Bye. JASON Weird. I all worked way better than I thought it would. What happened? SUSAN Stories work. Perspective works. And love, Jason. Love works. We’re among the lucky ones, you know? Love’s not all you need, but—it’s most of it. JASON Thanks, Gram. SUSAN Any time. End of Play
An unexpected poem.
the world, the flesh They did it to me when I was too young to resist: in my name they renounced my skin, my heart, my lungs, my sex, my brain, my little fingers. They renounced my senses, my fears, my hungers, my animal urgency. They renounced the world. The deserts and trees, mountains and seas, everyone who crawls and swims and flies: denizens of the dirt, tigers and dogs and whales. They don’t have souls the story goes, and all that matters is what isn’t. When the trout lily leaves emerged, when the bears came out of their winter dens, when the buds swelled on the maples, every spring we remembered our renunciation. How strange when the empty tomb recalls the garden and the flesh. I repent. I reclaim all I was taught, along with the devil, to renounce. Beginning with this patch of ground where rotting trunks flower out their fruits, where robins overturn the unraked leaves and acorns sprout along the edges of the unmown grass.
REPORT: MARCH 8, 2022, 6:30 A.M. I don’t yet know the news from afar. Here, the backyard is a sheet of ice. In the low spot in the drive, the gravel has washed away, leaving a narrow ditch. Before sunrise, the sky is gray and yellow. All the undones of autumn poke through the grubby snow. A rabbit scrounges for seed under the bird feeder. The dog looks out the window and begins to scream at a squirrel. Coffee’s good. The north wind is rising.
A PHOTO OF BORIS They posed him against a background of drapery, stood him on the seat of a chair with curved arms. His hair was parted and neatly combed. He wore a dark jacket with two rows of buttons, dark button-trimmed trousers, and sturdy shoes. They put a hoop—-larger than himself—-around his neck. The fingers of one hand curled around it. In the other, he held a short stick of the sort used by bigger boys to turn a hoop along a road. His expression was serious, puzzled, maybe alarmed: Why do they want me standing here, with a hoop around my neck? On the back, a line of my Grandmother’s illegible scrawl —I think in German—-and one word, set apart: “Boris.” There is no Boris in the family tree. The photo was attached with dots of glue to a page in a cheap photo album discovered in a box in a closet among my mother’s things. It was Grandma’s. Perhaps Mother never looked at it. She never showed it to us. The cover was broken, the pages crumbling. I know how paper can decay. I pried all the photos out. Most were not labeled. Grandma knew who they were: People in the Old Country around a table, people haying on the farm in East Germany where Johann ended up after the war, a uniformed man who might be the German cousin who went down with his ship in 1945. Only a few were labeled— Onkel Herman, Onkel Hans’s wife, Pa and Frieda. And Boris. I thought to toss it with the unlabeled photos— the sort of nameless photos that pile up, that we pass on endlessly. But I cannot discard Boris. What was he doing there, in Grandma’s album, with Johann and August and Wanda, Great-grandfather Joseph, Tante Helen, and Grandma herself, stout in her printed dress, standing with the nameless Sunday School teachers in front of the Cleveland Lutheran Church.
As usual, the Dollhouses are a bit slow taking down their Christmas decorations.
An Old Poem: Witch Hunt
This was originally done as a performance piece.
Such was the darkness of that day, the tortures and lamentations of the afflicted, and the power of former precedence, that we walked in the clouds, and could not see our way. The Rev. John Hale Sarah Good, hanged Susannah Martin, hanged Elizabeth Proctor, reprieved Rebecca Jacobs, acquitted Martha Corey, hanged Mary Bradbury, reprieved Rebecca Nurse, hanged Alice Parker, hanged John Proctor, hanged Ann Pudeator, hanged Giles Corey, pressed under stones Martha Carrier, hanged Bridget Bishop, hanged Elizabeth Howe, hanged Abigail Hobbs, reprieved Wilmot Reed, hanged Sarah Wilds, hanged Ann Foster, reprieved, Mary Easty, hanged Mary Lacey Sr., reprieved George Burroughs, hanged Margaret Scott, hanged George Jacobs, Sr., hanged Abigail Faulkner Sr., reprieved John Willard, hanged Rebecca Eames, reprieved Sarah Buckley, acquitted Samuel Wardwell, hanged Mary Witheridge, acquitted Mary Parker, hanged Dorcas Hoar, reprieved Is three hundred years so long ago? Can you see the village? Saltworks, warehouse, wharf and fish flakes cod ketches in from the Newfoundland banks trading ships in from Barbados or Surinam The gabled clapboard houses, steep-roofed I saw her on the beam suckling her yellow bird betwixt her fingers small windows to keep out the cold there is a black man whispering in her ear board fences to keep the cattle out meeting house to keep the devil out O yonder is Goodman Proctor & his wife & Goody Nurse & Goody Corey & Goody Cloise & Goody Child. Goodman Proctor is going to choke me. church yard to keep the dead inside gallows built sturdy on Gallows Hill they both did torture me a great many times because I would not yield to their Hellish temptations Can you hear the village? Sea wind and tide rumble Barking dog, brown wren scolding in the eaves gossip in the gardens, on the streets, children about their business to and fro the learned preacher enlightening his flock I would advise you to repentance, for the devil is bringing you out Kettles hiss and bubble, spinning wheels tick and whir I have seen sights & been scared. I have been very wicked. I hope I shall be better: if God will keep me. And in the night dark calls of whippoorwill and owl, cat wail, fox yap What a dreadful Sight are You! An Old Woman, an Old Servant of the Devil! ‘ Tis an horrible Thing! moanings of birth and love and death scream of a rabbit caught. What sin hath god found out in me unrepented of that he should Lay such an Affliction upon me In my old Age? Can you smell the village? stew of rabbit and winter roots herbs in the dooryards, hanging from the beams sea scent--salt and drying cod I never had to do with witchcraft since I was born. I am a Gospell Woman. Ye are all against me and I cannot help it. sweat and urine, blood and shit The LORD doth terrible things amongst us, by lengthening the Chain of the Roaring Lion, in an Extraordinary manner; so that the Devil is come down in great wrath. Human nature has not changed. They might lie for ought I know We are wary creatures crouched in caves. Outside our civilized circles wild eyes glitter in the night Were you to serve the Devil ten years? Tell how many. voices of the dispossessed murmur under every window they drum and dance in the dense black desert praying to their devil, plotting our demise. There is evil, evil all outside, all around. Do not you see these children & women are rational & sober as their neighbours when your hands are fastened? Human nature has not changed. Being Conscious of My own Innocency I Humbly Beg that I may have Liberty to Manifest it to the world Watch your children fight for space, watch the traffic, grocery check-out line, listen to the evening news, hear your own voice grow shrill. How comes the Devil so loathe to have any Testimony born against you? They said we were guilty of afflicting them. We knowing ourselves altogether innocent of this crime, we were all exceedingly astonished and amazed, and consternated and affrighted even out of our reason. With all gone wrong, with demons all round, the fault can not be mine. I will have, must have someone else to blame. God would not suffer so many good men to be in such an error about this, and you will be hanged if you do not confess. It is false! the Devil is a liar. It is a shameful thing that you should mind these folks that are out of their wits. Where do you place your fear? I take God in heaven to be my witness, that I know nothing of it, no more than the child unborn In your heart, your bowels? Or do you wrap it tight and bury it like a corpse far away, outside yourself, That you were fled from Authority is an acknowledgment of guilt but yet notwithstanding we require you to confess the truth in this matter. in your neighbor’s yard, your neighbor’s soul? I am going upon the Ladder to be hanged for a Witch, but I am innocent. Can you see the village still? Boundaries broad, buildings tall, I am no more a Witch than you are a Wizard, and if you take away my Life, God will give you Blood to drink all the traffic sound and stench and still-- Is three hundred years so long ago? If it was the last time I was to speak I am innocent Note: The names of the accused are read throughout, in a monotone. words spoken by the accusers words spoken by the accused words spoken by the judges
Maybe I’ll do some more later. Twenty two seems like enough!
#115—What can I love and savor through my senses? CHARACTERS HUMAN HAWK BEAR BAT MOLE Setting: The edge of a forest. A semi-circle with Human in the center HUMAN All right, you guys. I’ve brought you here because I want to know what your worlds are like. So tell me. HAWK Oh, I can see. I can see miles and miles. My world is clear and far and full. And silent, but for the wind. BEAR And my world is dark and snuffly, full of musk and meat, grubs, berries, apples, acorns, the edible treasures you throw into cans and hang in feeders. And you, always you, and your dogs, all around. BAT Nothing but sound. Sharp and hard. Buzzings and screamings and the dullnesses of clotheslines and grass. The hollowness of openings in boxes and towers and holes in walls. MOLE Thick, wet, dry, crumbly, slick, live and soft, dark and hard. Edible, poison. Spring, sharp. Air near the tops. ALL BUT HUMAN And you, Human? Tell us your world. HUMAN Not as clear or far, but enough for me. Flowers an dfood, just enough. Wind and music and th evoices of my friends. Not every rustle and click and snap. The smooth sheets and stones, the rough of pavement and sand. And, too, the sweet of peach and bitter of coffee. The salt of cheese, the comfort of bread. The taste of coming snow. The sense of who I am. Also written among the thrum and bustle of our son’s family. I did not write one on the 14th, in the car on the way home.
Prompt #74—what do you most fear?
CHARACTERS
DOG
MOUSE
DEER
OWL
Setting—the edge of a forest.
MOUSE
(Enters, creeping, searching the ground and looking up.)
Food. Something here. Seeds. Over there. Gotta find. Dry grass. Little holes. Winter coming. Need snow. Cover, cover, cover. Owls. Foxes. Hungry. Melting. Freezing. Sky. Oh, sky. Nothing. Shelter, need shelter. But food. Seeds. Over here. Owls at night. Hawks. Foxes. Need food. Winter coming.
(Exits, scurrying.)
DEER
(Enters wary, sniffing, listening.)
Not time yet, but they’re coming. Every tree on the edge of every clearing, every clump of grass and brush can hold a death. Listen, listen, move with care. Alert, stay alert. Not time yet, but soon. The leaves have fallen, my breath blows a mist. It will be soon.
DOG
(Enters, looking around.)
Where are they? Where did they go? I went too far, maybe. There was a rabbit and a squirrel and some deer and something I don’t know, and I followed and I followed and they were still behind me and now I don’t know. I could hear them calling but now I can’t hear them and maybe they’re lost. I don’t want to lose them. What would they do, lost in the woods. How would they find their way home. The wind is wrong. I can’t hear them, I can’t smell them. What shall I do? Go this way? Turn back? I don’t know, I don’t know. Where are they? Where are they?
(Exits.)
OWL
(Enters silently, calmly. Stands still and looks around for a long time, then moves on.)
GladErrand 