[87775] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Show Windshield Repair Results
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Windshield Repair)
Tue Aug 30 16:35:40 2016
Date: Tue, 30 Aug 2016 18:26:38 -0400
From: "Windshield Repair" <windshield_repair@jamess.stream>
To: <mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu>
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nbsp; </p> <p align=3D"center"> </p> <p align=3D"center" style=
=3D"font: 16px; "><span id=3D"content">Winter has settled down over the Div=
ide again; the season in which Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sl=
eep between the fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds=
have gone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is extermi=
nated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run shivering from one f=
rozen garden patch to another and are hard put to it to find frost-bitten c=
abbage-stalks. At night the coyotes roam the wintry waste, howling for food=
The variegated fields are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, t=
he roads, the sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are sca=
rcely perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken o=
n. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk in the roa=
ds or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, and the spirit is=
oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could easily believe that in th=
at dead landscape the germs of life and fruitfulness were extinct forever. =
Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weekly letters f=
rom Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carl went away. To avoid awk=
ward encounters in the presence of curious spectators, she has stopped goin=
g to the Norwegian Church and drives up to the Reform Church at Hanover, or=
goes with Marie Shabata to the Catholic Church, locally known as " th=
e French Church." She has not told Marie about Carl, or her difference=
s with her brothers. She was never very communicative about her own affairs=
, and when she came to the point, an instinct told her that about such thin=
gs she and Marie would not understand one another. Old Mrs. Lee had been af=
raid that family misunderstandings might deprive her of her yearly visit to=
Alexandra. But on the first day of December Alexandra telephoned Annie tha=
t to-morrow she would send Ivar over for her mother, and the next day the o=
ld lady arrived with her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always ente=
red Alexandra' s sitting-room with the same exclamation, " Now we be y=
ust-a like old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, and=
hearing her own language about her all day long. Here she could wear her n=
ightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listen to Ivar reading the Bib=
le, and here she could run about among the stables in a pair of Emil' s old=
boots. Though she was bent almost double, she was as spry as a gopher. Her=
face was as brown as if it had been varnished, and as full of wrinkles as =
a washerwoman' s hands. She had three jolly old teeth left in the front of =
her mouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if when you fou=
nd out how to take it, life wasn' t half bad. While she and Alexandra patch=
ed and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantly about stories she read in=
a Swedish family paper, telling the plots in great detail; or about her li=
fe on a dairy farm in Gottland when she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot wh=
ich were the printed stories and which were the real stories, it all seemed=
so far away. She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, =
before she went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. " I=
t sends good dreams," she would say with a twinkle in her eye. When Mr=
s. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabata telephoned one mor=
ning to say that Frank had gone to town for the day, and she would like the=
m to come over for coffee in the afternoon. Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out an=
d iron her new cross-stitched apron, which she had finished only the night =
before; a checked gingham apron worked with a design ten inches broad acros=
s the bottom; a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and hunts=
men. Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and refused a second helping=
of apple dumplings. " I ta-ank I save up," she said with a giggl=
e. At two o' clock in the afternoon Alexandra' s cart drove up to the Shaba=
tas' gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee' s red shawl come bobbing up the path. Sh=
e ran to the door and pulled the old woman into the house with a hug, helpi=
ng her to take off her wraps while Alexandra blanketed the horse outside. M=
rs. Lee had put on her best black satine dress--she abominated woolen stuff=
s, even in winter--and a crocheted collar, fastened with a big pale gold pi=
n, containing faded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She had not wo=
rn her apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out and tied it =
round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back and threw up her hand=
s, exclaiming, " Oh, what a beauty! I' ve never seen this one before, =
have I, Mrs. Lee?" The old woman giggled and ducked her head. " N=
o, yust las' night I ma-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no=
fade. My sister send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis." Mari=
e ran to the door again. " Come in, Alexandra. I have been looking at =
Mrs. Lee' s apron. Do stop on your way home and show it to Mrs. Hiller. She=
' s crazy about cross-stitch." While Alexandra removed her hat and vei=
l, Mrs. Lee went out to the kitchen and settled herself in a wooden rocking=
-chair by the stove, looking with great interest at the table, set for thre=
e, with a white cloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. " My=
, a-an' t you gotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from free=
ze?" She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias and =
geraniums. " I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it' s very =
cold I put them all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights I=
only put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing, but when =
they don' t bloom he says, ' What' s the matter with the darned things?' --=
What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?" " He got to Dawson befor=
e the river froze, and now I suppose I won' t hear any more until spring. B=
efore he left California he sent me a box of orange flowers, but they didn'=
t keep very well. I have brought a bunch of Emil' s letters for you."=
Alexandra came out from the sitting-room and pinched Marie' s cheek playfu=
lly. " You don' t look as if the weather ever froze you up. Never have=
colds, do you? That' s a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like this when=
she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queer foreign kind o=
f a doll. I' ve never forgot the first time I saw you in Mieklejohn' s stor=
e, Marie, the time father was lying sick. Carl and I were talking about tha=
t before he went away." " I remember, and Emil had his kitten alo=
ng. When are you going to send Emil' s Christmas box?" " It ought=
to have gone before this. I' ll have to send it by mail now, to get it the=
re in time." Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbask=
et. " I knit this for him. It' s a good color, don' t you think? Will =
you please put it in with your things and tell him it' s from me, to wear w=
hen he goes serenading." Alexandra laughed. " I don' t believe he=
goes serenading much. He says in one letter that the Mexican ladies are sa=
id to be very beautiful, but that don' t seem to me very warm praise."=
Marie tossed her head. " Emil can' t fool me. If he' s bought a guita=
r, he goes serenading. Who wouldn' t, with all those Spanish girls dropping=
flowers down from their windows! I' d sing to them every night, wouldn' t =
you, Mrs. Lee?" The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent d=
own and opened the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into the t=
idy kitchen. " My, somet' ing smell good!" She turned to Alexandr=
a with a wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, " I ta-ank =
dat stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said contentedly. Marie took o=
ut a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewed apricots, and began =
to dust them over with powdered sugar. " I hope you' ll like these, Mr=
s. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians always like them with their coffee. B=
ut if you don' t, I have a coffee-cake with nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra=
, will you get the cream jug? I put it in the window to keep cool." &q=
uot; The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table, &qu=
ot; certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any other people in=
the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the church supper that she coul=
d make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Marie could make a dozen." Mrs.=
Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumb and forefinge=
r and weighed it critically. " Yust like-a fedders," she pronounc=
ed with satisfaction. " My, a-an' t dis nice!" she exclaimed as s=
he stirred her coffee. " I yust ta-ake a liddle yelly now, too, I ta-a=
nk." Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell to ta=
lking of their own affairs. " I was afraid you had a cold when I talke=
d to you over the telephone the other night, Marie. What was the matter, ha=
d you been crying?" " Maybe I had," Marie smiled guiltily. &=
quot; Frank was out late that night. Don' t you get lonely sometimes in the=
winter, when everybody has gone away?" " I thought it was someth=
ing like that. If I hadn' t had company, I' d have run over to see for myse=
lf. If you get down-hearted, what will become of the rest of us?" Alex=
andra asked. " I don' t, very often. There' s Mrs. Lee without any cof=
fee!" Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marie =
and Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns the old lady =
wanted to borrow. " Better put on your coat, Alexandra. It' s cold up =
there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. I may have to look thro=
ugh my old trunks." Marie caught up a shawl and opened the stair door,=
running up the steps ahead of her guest. " While I go through the bur=
eau drawers, you might look in those hat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over wh=
ere Frank' s clothes hang. There are a lot of odds and ends in them." =
She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandra went into=
the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding a slender elastic yel=
low stick in her hand. " What in the world is this, Marie? You don' t =
mean to tell me Frank ever carried such a thing?" Marie blinked at it =
with astonishment and sat down on the floor. " Where did you find it? =
I didn' t know he had kept it. I haven' t seen it for years." " I=
t really is a cane, then?" " Yes. One he brought from the old cou=
ntry. He used to carry it when I first knew him. Isn' t it foolish? Poor Fr=
ank!" Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. " H=
e must have looked funny!" Marie was thoughtful. " No, he didn' t=
, really. It didn' t seem out of place. He used to be awfully gay like that=
when he was a young man. I guess people always get what' s hardest for the=
m, Alexandra." Marie gathered the shawl closer about her and still loo=
ked hard at the cane. " Frank would be all right in the right place,&q=
uot; she said reflectively. " He ought to have a different kind of wif=
e, for one thing. Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the righ=
t sort of woman for Frank--now. The trouble is you almost have to marry a m=
an before you can find out the sort of wife he needs; and usually it' s exa=
ctly the sort you are not. Then what are you going to do about it?" sh=
e asked candidly. Alexandra confessed she didn' t know. " However,&quo=
t; she added, " it seems to me that you get along with Frank about as =
well as any woman I' ve ever seen or heard of could." Marie shook her =
head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breath softly out into the fros=
ty air. " No; I was spoiled at home. I like my own way, and I have a q=
uick tongue. When Frank brags, I say sharp things, and he never forgets. He=
goes over and over it in his mind; I can feel him. Then I' m too giddy. Fr=
ank' s wife ought to be timid, and she ought not to care about another livi=
ng thing in the world but just Frank! I didn' t, when I married him, but I =
suppose I was too young to stay like that." Marie sighed. Alexandra ha=
d never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husband before, and she felt=
that it was wiser not to encourage her. No good, she reasoned, ever came f=
rom talking about such things, and while Marie was thinking aloud, Alexandr=
a had been steadily searching the hat-boxes. " Aren' t these the patte=
rns, Maria?" Maria sprang up from the floor. " Sure enough, we we=
re looking for patterns, weren' t we? I' d forgot about everything but Fran=
k' s other wife. I' ll put that away." She poked the cane behind Frank=
' s Sunday clothes, and though she laughed, Alexandra saw there were tears =
in her eyes. When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall=
, and Marie' s visitors thought they must be getting home. She went out to =
the cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs. Lee while Alexandra=
took the blanket off her horse. As they drove away, Marie turned and went =
slowly back to the house. She took up the package of letters Alexandra had =
brought, but she did not read them. She turned them over and looked at the =
foreign stamps, and then sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepen=
ed in the kitchen and the stove sent out a red glow. Marie knew perfectly w=
ell that Emil' s letters were written more for her than for Alexandra. They=
were not the sort of letters that a young man writes to his sister. They w=
ere both more personal and more painstaking; full of descriptions of the ga=
y life in the old Mexican capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfi=
rio Diaz was still strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights, churc=
hes and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and the fountains, the music and dancin=
g, the people of all nations he met in the Italian restaurants on San Franc=
isco Street. In short, they were the kind of letters a young man writes to =
a woman when he wishes himself and his life to seem interesting to her, whe=
n he wishes to enlist her imagination in his behalf. Marie, when she was al=
one or when she sat sewing in the evening, often thought about what it must=
be like down there where Emil was; where there were flowers and street ban=
ds everywhere, and carriages rattling up and down, and where there was a li=
ttle blind boot-black in front of the cathedral who could play any tune you=
asked for by dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. When =
everything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasant to let =
the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who has life before him=
" And if it had not been for me," she thought, " Frank mig=
ht still be free like that, and having a good time making people admire him=
Poor Frank, getting married wasn' t very good for him either. I' m afraid=
I do set people against him, as he says. I seem, somehow, to give him away=
all the time. Perhaps he would try to be agreeable to people again, if I w=
ere not around. It seems as if I always make him just as bad as he can be.&=
quot; Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon as the=
last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After that day the younger=
woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself. When she was with Alexa=
ndra she was not spontaneous and frank as she used to be. She seemed to be =
brooding over something, and holding something back. The weather had a good=
deal to do with their seeing less of each other than usual. There had not =
been such snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the fields was dr=
ifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighbors went to see e=
ach other, they had to go round by the wagon-road, which was twice as far. =
They telephoned each other almost every night, though in January there was =
a stretch of three weeks when the wires were down, and when the postman did=
not come at all. Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. =
Hiller, who was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lame sho=
emaker, to take care of her; and she went to the French Church, whatever th=
e weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayed for herself and for =
Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations of that gay, corrupt old city. S=
he found more comfort in the Church that winter than ever before. It seemed=
to come closer to her, and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. S=
he tried to be patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually playe=
d California Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting and tried =
to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was always thinking about =
the wide fields outside, where the snow was drifting over the fences; and a=
bout the orchard, where the snow was falling and packing, crust over crust.=
When she went out into the dark kitchen to fix her plants for the night, s=
he used to stand by the window and look out at the white fields, or watch t=
he currents of snow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weigh=
t of all the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hard that=
they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. And yet, down und=
er the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, the secret of life was sti=
ll safe, warm as the blood in one' s heart; and the spring would come again=
! Oh, it would come again! II If Alexandra had had much imagination she mig=
ht have guessed what was going on in Marie' s mind, and she would have seen=
long before what was going on in Emil' s. But that, as Emil himself had mo=
re than once reflected, was Alexandra' s blind side, and her life had not b=
een of the kind to sharpen her vision. Her training had all been toward the=
end of making her proficient in what she had undertaken to do. Her persona=
l life, her own realization of herself, was almost a subconscious existence=
; like an underground river that came to the surface only here and there, a=
t intervals months apart, and then sank again to flow on under her own fiel=
ds. Nevertheless, the underground stream was there, and it was because she =
had so much personality to put into her enterprises and succeeded in puttin=
g it into them so completely, that her affairs prospered better than those =
of her neighbors.</span></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <=
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