1846: The Bright Tomorrow
Last night, on the Eve of the New Year, my family went to a celebration at the home of Mr. Fisher Jones. I suppose it was enjoyable. I'm sure we will all be very fond of the Joneses before all is said and done.
We were told by Mr. Joneses son Charles that as well as providing a covered dish, there would be a time to exchange gifts. There would be no need to purchase gifts for everyone however. It would only be neccesary to bring one gift per member of our family.
I admit that I was slightly vexed by this request. Obtaining gifts is difficult enough, but I especially do not enjoy shopping for people I don't even know. In the end Abby and and I agreed to just give away objects around the house that we no longer had any use for. We thought of it as a good oppurtunity to get rid of a few things we would not be able to take on the trail with us. I grabbed the poorly drawn picture Isaac-Albert had given me for Christmas, convincing him that it was just too good to keep to myself. I also grabbed a few fish hooks that I hadn't used in years, a length of rope, an old doll of Elizabeth's, and a portrait of my grandmother.
We arrived just before sunset. The kids all went to play together in the barn, Abigail went to the kitchen to help the women, and I began conversing with Henry. Dinner was ready shortly and we all sat down to a wonderful meal.
Near the end of the meal we all recieved a surprise when Mr. Jones rose to his feet. His children did the same, and disappeared into a back room, returning shortly dressed in bright costumes. Then the Joneses, excepting Mrs. Jones, performed a scene from a play written by Fisher himeslf entitled Red Skye in the Morning. It is (in the words of Fisher Jones) the tragic tale of a misunderstood pirate by the name of Both-Legs Bill. Bill spends his life obsessively seeking his parents' pirate killers to avenge their murders as he himself, framed for crimes committed by the very pirates he hunts is ruthlessly and relentlessly sought out by the stoic British Navy Captain, Captain Red Skye. Bill is eventually captured, and Captain Skye realizes his grave mistake only after it is too late, and Bill's lifeless body hangs on display in London. Parliament refuses to remove the body in hopes of convincing its citizens of progress made towards a safer Atlantic. Skye dedicates his life to telling Bill's story, and in the end, learns to cry.
The Jonese performed the scene in which Red Skye first meets Both-Legs Bill. Bill being the just person he is and in no way a murderer has just disarmed the stubborn Captain Skye, but, to cries of disapproval from his cold-hearted crew, refuses to finish him off. Bill reminds his crew what it is they believe in, and warns Captain Skye he is making a terrible mistake. However, Captain Skye, jealous and insulted by the compassion he is unable to feel, and frustrated with his own inadequacy as a swordsman, vows to hunt Bill down.
It was interesting.
After dinner we had our gift exchange. Lementine took charge at this point. She said that this custom that had been in her family for generations is called a "White Elephant" gift exchange. The rules were simple enough. We drew our numbers from a hat. The person with the number 1 picks a present and opens it. Then the next person can either steal the present chosen by person 1 or pick a new present, and so on and so on. I was number 6, and chose my fish hooks, because I began remembering all the fish I had caught with those hooks. Unfortunately, Fisher came shortly after and stole the hooks from me. I ended up with a scarf knitted by Susanna Jones, that no one else would steal.
The hooks, as I said went to Fisher. The portrait was taken by Elizabeth who seemed rather cross with me, and evidently had some emotional attachment to the picture. Isaac-Albert's picture of God-knows-what was taken by Dorcas Sidcott. Elizabeth's doll was stolen from Susanna by Beth Sidcott, and finally found its way to the unnatural hands of Emiline Jones where it met its demise. The length of rope was taken by James Stewart Plimpton, but confiscated by his father. It seems that since a young age James has had an odd tendency to catch and torture small animals.
When everyone had taken a gift, one remained left over. We all wondered at this, until Lem exclaimed, "Why it's for Isaac of course, or Albert; which ever one doesn't have a present yet." You can imagine how insulted Abigail and I were. Luckily we were able to restrain our initial outbursts, and calmly explained that simply because our son was burdened with this grotesque distortion did not mean he needed pity or special treatment of any kind. He would have one present, and be treated, not as the deformed freak that he is, but like everyone else.
After the gifts, Isaac-Albert and Martin were sent upstairs, while the normal people played "What am I drawing?" and roasted chestnuts.
It turned out to be a very good evening. Yet by the end we were all aware that now, in 1846, our perilous journey is closer than ever.
We were told by Mr. Joneses son Charles that as well as providing a covered dish, there would be a time to exchange gifts. There would be no need to purchase gifts for everyone however. It would only be neccesary to bring one gift per member of our family.
I admit that I was slightly vexed by this request. Obtaining gifts is difficult enough, but I especially do not enjoy shopping for people I don't even know. In the end Abby and and I agreed to just give away objects around the house that we no longer had any use for. We thought of it as a good oppurtunity to get rid of a few things we would not be able to take on the trail with us. I grabbed the poorly drawn picture Isaac-Albert had given me for Christmas, convincing him that it was just too good to keep to myself. I also grabbed a few fish hooks that I hadn't used in years, a length of rope, an old doll of Elizabeth's, and a portrait of my grandmother.
We arrived just before sunset. The kids all went to play together in the barn, Abigail went to the kitchen to help the women, and I began conversing with Henry. Dinner was ready shortly and we all sat down to a wonderful meal.
Near the end of the meal we all recieved a surprise when Mr. Jones rose to his feet. His children did the same, and disappeared into a back room, returning shortly dressed in bright costumes. Then the Joneses, excepting Mrs. Jones, performed a scene from a play written by Fisher himeslf entitled Red Skye in the Morning. It is (in the words of Fisher Jones) the tragic tale of a misunderstood pirate by the name of Both-Legs Bill. Bill spends his life obsessively seeking his parents' pirate killers to avenge their murders as he himself, framed for crimes committed by the very pirates he hunts is ruthlessly and relentlessly sought out by the stoic British Navy Captain, Captain Red Skye. Bill is eventually captured, and Captain Skye realizes his grave mistake only after it is too late, and Bill's lifeless body hangs on display in London. Parliament refuses to remove the body in hopes of convincing its citizens of progress made towards a safer Atlantic. Skye dedicates his life to telling Bill's story, and in the end, learns to cry.
The Jonese performed the scene in which Red Skye first meets Both-Legs Bill. Bill being the just person he is and in no way a murderer has just disarmed the stubborn Captain Skye, but, to cries of disapproval from his cold-hearted crew, refuses to finish him off. Bill reminds his crew what it is they believe in, and warns Captain Skye he is making a terrible mistake. However, Captain Skye, jealous and insulted by the compassion he is unable to feel, and frustrated with his own inadequacy as a swordsman, vows to hunt Bill down.
It was interesting.
After dinner we had our gift exchange. Lementine took charge at this point. She said that this custom that had been in her family for generations is called a "White Elephant" gift exchange. The rules were simple enough. We drew our numbers from a hat. The person with the number 1 picks a present and opens it. Then the next person can either steal the present chosen by person 1 or pick a new present, and so on and so on. I was number 6, and chose my fish hooks, because I began remembering all the fish I had caught with those hooks. Unfortunately, Fisher came shortly after and stole the hooks from me. I ended up with a scarf knitted by Susanna Jones, that no one else would steal.
The hooks, as I said went to Fisher. The portrait was taken by Elizabeth who seemed rather cross with me, and evidently had some emotional attachment to the picture. Isaac-Albert's picture of God-knows-what was taken by Dorcas Sidcott. Elizabeth's doll was stolen from Susanna by Beth Sidcott, and finally found its way to the unnatural hands of Emiline Jones where it met its demise. The length of rope was taken by James Stewart Plimpton, but confiscated by his father. It seems that since a young age James has had an odd tendency to catch and torture small animals.
When everyone had taken a gift, one remained left over. We all wondered at this, until Lem exclaimed, "Why it's for Isaac of course, or Albert; which ever one doesn't have a present yet." You can imagine how insulted Abigail and I were. Luckily we were able to restrain our initial outbursts, and calmly explained that simply because our son was burdened with this grotesque distortion did not mean he needed pity or special treatment of any kind. He would have one present, and be treated, not as the deformed freak that he is, but like everyone else.
After the gifts, Isaac-Albert and Martin were sent upstairs, while the normal people played "What am I drawing?" and roasted chestnuts.
It turned out to be a very good evening. Yet by the end we were all aware that now, in 1846, our perilous journey is closer than ever.
posted by Nathaniel David at 9:04 PM
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