In this display you see nineteenth-century spectacles showing Victorian tendencies — filigreed gold, ivory ornaments, and, in one pair (#4), a setting for jewels on the temple pieces. The jewels themselves have been lost. Very few of these spectacles have any refraction (prescription) in their lenses, which indicates that they were used mainly for adornment, but the pair without temple pieces (#2, pince-nez) does magnify greatly, and the steel-framed eyeglasses (#7) were made for a very nearsighted person.
I sold three spectacles, each for $50, making a net profit of $150—Rennie pointed out that the spectacles had cost her nothing because they were baksheesh16 from the gentleman unloading clocks. She showed me that the entry in the ledger mentioned only the clocks. She wanted me to take the $150, but I reminded her that Jan Term is supposed to be a volunteer activity. Then take a pair of glasses, she said, sort of snappishly. So I chose a pair with no refraction, because my eyes are twenty-twenty, like my father’s. My glasses have plain silver frames in an oblong shape. I wore them one night while I was making dinner and my father and Tollie were playing their preprandial chess game. While I was sautéing tofu, I felt my father looking at me, and finally he said, You have restored your mother to our household. This shows how wearing spectacles can alter a person’s appearance and even influence the vision of a bystander! Then Tollie said “Checkmate,” for the first time ever, which shows how even an adept adult can be bested by a child if he (the adult) is not paying full attention. I include these instances to demonstrate that during Jan Term I acquired unexpected information. The most important off-label thing I learned was that non-inquisitiveness like Renata McLintock’s, along with just plain Being There, beats all the good intentions of friends and neighbors, even the ones who left casseroles on the back porch.
Establishments like Forget Me Not help preserve things of the past, and this adds to our general knowledge of history. Antique stores have been criticized for pandering to what’s low in human nature — acquisitiveness and narcissism. But the acquisition of items gives aesthetic pleasure to those who acquisition them as well as to those who will view them in their eventual resting places, museums. As for narcissism, I do believe it is here to stay. The art of personal adornment has been practiced ever since Eve found out she was naked. Also, people like to buy other people beautiful things to show their love. My father bought Tina a welcome-home present of demantoid garnet earrings dating from late in the Belle Époque.17 He gave her one earring and left the other in Rennie’s safe, to be reclaimed in the future, a kind of good-behavior reward. That’s his way, and Tina says she can live with it now.
1 Glioblastoma
2 Sic
3 I think she was joking but maybe not — some people have forgotten elementary arithmetic. Tina, my stepmother, cannot even balance a checkbook, though she is an excellent guitarist and knows all about hemidemisemiquavers and can follow directions as to rhythm and speed and can also ignore them when interpretation demands. I can compute 5 percent of anything in my head and I can also do elementary calculus. So can Tollie, who is four.
4 My mother got Josephine from Little Women and Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.
5 I learned this gardening technique from Tina, a conservationist. Scummy water is good for houseplants and outdoor plants alike, though Mrs. Bluestein, Caldicott’s science teacher as you know, says she’s from Missouri, a remark which apparently indicates disbelief.
6 Not admitted in the first batch
7 AIDS
8 I would note that this is in keeping with Caldicott Academy’s own high ideals.
9 The North End is still mostly Italian. Tina is of Italian descent and has acquaintances there. She stayed with a particular Friend all the time she wasn’t with us, experiencing her own Jan Term as she said to me. She came every weekday to visit Tollie at his day care center. I am putting this down because I know there is a rumor that she is an indifferent mother. She is a very good mother. Some people confuse mothering with housekeeping.
10 Rennie’s phrase
11 Typhoid fever
12 Sic
13 Rennie’s penmanship is called Copperplate. It was developed in England in the eighteenth century. Early American copybooks continued the use of this plain script. Caldicott is considering returning to cursive instruction in the early grades, an excellent idea but too late for me.
14 Myocardial infarction
15 This is perhaps the place to correct the woman’s mistakes. My mother was not a saint. She didn’t do anything to end wars or cool the globe or rescue the homeless. When a pie crust crumbled she told it to fuck itself [sic]. She was very nearsighted and didn’t sew, and even wearing her eyeglasses, she blinked a lot, which because she was so tall made her look like a confused giraffe, but not a saint. Tina is not a slattern, just disorganized. She’s twenty-three. She was eighteen when she met my father and got pregnant with Tollie. While she was staying in the North End with her Friend, she thought about her life here and came to the conclusion that its pluses outweighed its minuses. My father is not a tyrant. He’s absentminded and preoccupied with biostatistical research and sometimes gets quite irritable, but he’s turning over a new leaf. My brother is on the spectrum. I love him very much even when he stares silently into his thoughts, maybe especially then.
16 Baksheesh means free but for the purpose of sweetening the deal.
17 1871–1914
ELDER JINKS
GRACE AND GUSTAVE WERE MARRIED in August, in Gustave’s home — a squat, brown-shingled house whose deep front porch darkened the downstairs rooms. The house lot had ample space for a side garden. But there were only rhododendrons and azaleas, hugging the building, and a single apple tree stranded in the middle of the lawn. Every May, Gustave dragged lawn chairs from the garage to the apple tree and placed them side by side by side. When Grace had first seen this array, in July, she was reminded of a nursing home, though she wouldn’t say anything so hurtful to Gustave — a man easily bruised, which you could tell from the way he flushed when he took a wrong turn, say, or forgot a proper name. So she simply crossed the grass and moved one of the chaises so that it angled against another, and then adjusted the angle. “They’re snuggling now.” The third chair she overturned. Gustave later righted it.
They had met in June in front of a pair of foxes who made their own reluctant home at Bosky’s Wild Animal Preserve, on Cape Cod. Gustave was visiting his sister in her rented cottage. Grace had driven in from western Massachusetts with her pal Henrietta. The two women were camping in the state park.
“You’re living in a tent?” Gustave inquired on that fateful afternoon. “You look as fresh as a flower.”
“Which flower?” Grace was a passionate amateur gardener as well as a passionate amateur actress and cook and hostess. Had she ever practiced a profession? Yes, long ago; she’d been a second-grade teacher until her own children came along to claim her attention.
“Which flower? A hydrangea,” Gustave answered, surprised at his own exhilaration. “Your eyes,” he explained, further surprised, this time at his rising desire.
Her tilted eyes were indeed a violet blue. Her skin was only slightly lined. Her gray hair was clasped by a hinged comb that didn’t completely contain its abundance. Her figure was not firm, but what could you expect.