"She was so beautiful," Isis said. "I knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her. I couldn't protect her from him any more than I could protect myself, but I never thought that he would keep her and throw me out."
He did. And for six years, she's been homeless and all but hopeless. She said she had thought of killing herself. Only fear had stopped her—the fear of not quite dying, of maiming herself and dying a slow, lingering death of pain and starvation. That could happen. Portland is a vast, crowded city. It isn't Los Angeles or the Bay Area, but it is huge. People ignore one another in self-defense. I find this both useful and frightening. When I met Isis, it was because I went to the door of a home where she was working. Otherwise, she would never have dared to talk to me. As it was, she was designated to assemble a meal and bring it to me when I had finished cleaning up the backyard.
She was wary when she brought the food. Then she looked at the backyard and told me I had done a good job. We talked for a while. I walked her to her shack—which made her nervous. I was a man again. I find it inconvenient and dangerous to be on the street as a homeless woman. Other people manage it well. I don't, somehow.
I left Isis without seeing the inside of her shack. Best not to push people. Best, as Len says, to seduce them. I've seen Isis several times since then. I've talked with her, read verses to her, captured her interest. She has two half-grown children who live with their father's mother, so she cares, in spite of herself, about what the future will bring. I intend to find a real home for her by getting her a live-in job looking after children. That might take time, but I intend to do it.
************************************
On the other hand, I've met and gathered in Joel and Irma Elford, who hired me when I first came to Portland to paint a garage and a fence and do some yard work. Len and I worked together, first cutting weeds, harvesting row crops, raking, cleaning the yard at the back of the property where a wilderness had begun to grow. Then, when the dust settled, we painted the garage. We would have to get to the fence the next day. We were to get hard currency for this job, and that put us in a good mood. Len is a likable person to work with. She learns fast, complains endlessly, and does an excellent job, however long it takes. Most of the time, she enjoys herself. The complaining was just one of her quirks.
Then Joel and Irma invited us in to eat with them at their table. I had done a quick sketch of Irma to catch her attention, and added a verse that was intended to reach her through environmental interests that I had heard her express:
There is nothing alien
About nature.
Nature
Is all that exists.
It's the earth
And all that's on it.
It's the universe
And all that's in it.
It's God,
Never at rest.
It's you,
Me,
Us,
Them,
Struggling upstream
Or drifting down.
Also, perhaps because her mother had died the year before, Irma also seemed touched by this fragment of funeral oration.
We give our dead
To the orchards
And the groves.
We give our dead
To life.
We were an unexpected novelty, and the Elfords were curious about us. They let us wash up in their back bathroom and change into cleaner clothing from our packs. Then they sat us down, fed us a huge meal, and began to ask us questions. Where were we going? Did we have homes? Families? No? Well, how long had we been homeless? What did we do for shelter in rough weather? Weren't we afraid "out there"?
I answered for both of us at first, since Len did not seem inclined to talk, and I answered as often with Earthseed verses as with ordinary conversation. It didn't take long for Irma to ask, "What is it you're quoting from?" And then, "May I see it? I've never heard of it." And, "Is this Buddhist? No, I see that it isn't. I very nearly became a Buddhist when I was younger." She's 37. "Very simple little verses. Very direct But some of them are lovely."
"I want to be understood," I said. "I want to make it easy for people to understand. It doesn't always work, but I was serious about the effort"
Irma was all I could have hoped for. "You wrote these? You? Really? Then tell me please, on page 47 ..."
They're quiet, childless, middle-aged people who choose to live in a modest, middle-class neighborhood even though they could afford their own walled enclave. They're interested in the world around them and worried about the direction the country has taken. I could see their wealth in the beautiful, expensive little things they've scattered around their home—antique silver and crystal, old leather-bound paper books, paintings, and, for a touch of the modern, a cover-the-earth phone net system that includes, according to Len, the latest in Virtual rooms. They can have all the sights and other sensations of visiting anyplace on earth or any programmed-in imaginary place, all without leaving home. And yet they were interested in talking to us.
We had to be careful, though. The Elfords may be bored and hungry for both novelty and purpose, but they're not fools. I had to be more open with them than I have been with people like Isis. I told them much of my own story, and I told them what I'm trying to do. They thought I was brave, naive, ridiculous, and... interesting. Out of pity and curiosity they let us sleep in the comfortable little guest house at the back of their property.
The next day, when we had painted the fence, they found more small jobs for us to do, and now and then, they talked to us. And they let us talk to them. They never lost interest.
"What will you ask them to do?" Len said to me that night as we settled in again in the guest house. "You have them, you know, even if they don't realize it yet"
I nodded. "They're hungry for something to do," I said, "starved for some kind of real purpose. I think they'll have some suggestions themselves. They'll feel better if they make the first suggestions. They'll feel in control. Later, I want them to take Allie in. This guest house would be perfect for her and Justin. When they see what she can do with a few sticks of wood and simple tools, they'll be glad to have her. And I think I'll introduce Allie to Isis. I have the feeling they'll hit it off."
"The Elfords have all but seduced themselves for you," Len said.
I nodded. "Think about all the other people we've met who've given us nothing but trouble. I'm glad to meet eager, enthusiastic people now and then."
And of course, I've found my brother again. I find that I've not wanted to talk about that.
Marc has been preaching at one of the big Portland shelters, helping out with shelter maintenance, and attending a Christian American seminary. He wants to be an ordained minister. He was not happy to see me. I kept showing up to hear him and leaving notes that I wanted a meeting. It took him two weeks to give in.
"I suppose if I moved to Michigan, you'd turn up there," he said by way of greeting.
We were meeting in his apartment building—which was more like a big dormitory. Because he wasn't permitted to have guests in his apartment, we met in the large dining room just off the lobby. It was a clean, dim, plain room crowded with mismatched wooden tables and chairs and nothing else. Its walls were a dim gray-green and the floor was gray tile worn through to the wood in spots. We were alone there, drinking what I was told would be hot cinnamon-apple tea. When I bought a cup from the machine, I found that it tasted like tepid, slightly sweet water. The lights in the room were few, weak, and far apart, and the place worked hard at being as dreary and cheerless as could be managed.
"Service to God is what's important," my brother said, and I realized that I had been looking around and making my unspoken criticism obvious.
"I'm sorry," I said. "If you want to be here, then you should be here. I wish, though ... I wish you could spare a little concern for your niece."
"Don't be so condescending! And I've told you what you should do to find her!"
Join
CA. I shuddered. "I can't. I just can't. If Cougar were here, could you enlist with him again—just as a job, you know? Could you become one of his helpers?"
"It's not the same!"
"It's the same to me. What Cougar did to you, CA's Crusaders did to me. The only difference is they did it to me longer. And don't tell me the Crusaders are just renegades. They're not. They're as much part of CA as the shelters are. I spotted one of the men who raped and lashed us at Acorn. He was working as an armed guard at the Eureka shelter."
Marc stood up. He all but pushed his chair over in his eagerness to get away from me. "I've finally got a chance to have what I want," he said. "You're not going to wreck it for me!"
"This isn't about you," I said, still seated. "I wish you had a child, Marc. If you did, you might be able to understand what it's like not to know where she is, whether she's being well treated, or even ... even whether she's still alive. If I could only know!"
He stood over me for a very long time, looking down at me as though he hated me. "I don't believe you feel anything," he said.
I stared back at him amazed. "Marc, my daughter—"
"You think you're supposed to care, so you pretend to. Maybe you even want to, but you don't."
I think I preferred it when he hit me. I couldn't react except to sit staring at him. Tears spilled from my eyes, but I didn't realize it at the time. I just sat frozen, staring.
After a while, my brother turned and walked away, tears glistening on his own face.
By then, I wanted to hate him. I couldn't quite, but I wanted to.
"Brothers!" Len muttered when I told her what had happened. She had waited for me at the Elford guesthouse. She listened to what I told her and, I suppose, heard it according to her own experience.
"He needs to make everything my fault," I said. "He still can't let himself admit what Christian America did to me. He couldn't stay with them if they did such things, so he's decided that they're innocent, and somehow everything is my fault."
"Why are you making excuses for him?" Len demanded.
"I'm not. I think that's really what he's feeling. He had tears on his face when he walked away from me. He didn't want me to see that, but I saw it. He has to drive me away or he can't have his dreams. Christian America is teaching him to be the only thing I think he's ever wanted to be—a minister. Like our father."
She sighed and shook her head. "So what are you going to do?"
"I... don't know. Maybe the Elfords can suggest something.''
"Them, yes.... Irma asked me while you were gone whether you would be willing to speak to a group of her friends. She wants to have a party and, I suppose, show you off."
"You're kidding!"
“I said I thought you would do it."
I got up and went to look out the window at a pear tree, dark against the night sky. "You know, if I could only find my daughter, I would think my life was going along beautifully."
sunday, september 16, 2035
I've managed to get Marc to meet with me again at last.
He may be the only relative I have left on earth. I don't want him as an enemy.
"Just tell me you'll help my Larkin if you ever find her," I said.
"How could I do less?" he asked, still with a certain coldness.
"I wish you well, Marc. I always have. You're my brother, and I love you. Even with all that's happened, I can't help loving you."
He sighed. We were sitting in his building's vast, drab dining room again. This time there were other people scattered around, eating late lunches or early dinners. Most were men, young and old, individuals and small groups. Some stared at me with what seemed to be disapproval. "You can't know what Christian America has meant to me," he said. His voice had softened. He looked less distant.
"Of course I can," I told him. "I'm here because I do understand. You'll be a Christian American minister, and I'll be your heathen sister. I can stand that. What I find hard to stand is being your enemy. I never meant for that to happen."
After a while, he said, "We aren't enemies. You're my sister, and I love you too."
We shook hands. I don't think I've ever shaken hands with my brother before, but I got the feeling that it was as much contact as he was willing to endure, at least for now.
************************************
Allie and Justin have come to Portland to live. I phoned Allie and told her to use some of the money I left with her to buy a ride up with the Georges. The Elfords have agreed to let the two of them live in their guest house. Len and I have been given rooms above the garage at the home of another supporter—a friend of the Elfords.
That's how I've come to think of these people—as supporters. We speak to groups in their houses. We lead discussions and teach the truths of Earthseed. I say "we" because Len has begun to take a more active part. She will teach on her own someday, and perhaps train someone to help her. As I write those words, I miss her as though she had already gone off on her own, as though I already had some new young skeptic to train.
Through the Elfords and their friends and the friends of their friends, we've received invitations to speak all over town in people's homes and in small halls. I've found that in each group there is one person, perhaps two, who are serious, who hear in Earthseed something that they can accept, something they want, something they need. These are the ones who will make our first schools possible.
In Acorn, it was no accident that the church and the school were the same. They weren't just the same building. They were the same institution. If the Earthseed Destiny is to have any meaning beyond a distant mythical paradise, Earthseed must be not only a belief system but a way of life. Children should be raised in it. Adults should be reminded of it often, refocused on it, and urged toward it. Both should understand how their current behavior is or isn't contributing to fulfillment of the Destiny. By the time we're able to send Earthseed children to college, they should be dedicated not only to a course of study but to the fulfillment of the Destiny. If they are, then any course of study they choose can become a tool for the fulfillment.
sunday, september 30, 2035
I've found a potential home for Travis and Natividad. I've called them several times, and gotten no answer. I worried about them until last night when I reached them. They've been living in a squatter camp a few miles from Sacramento. They went there on a rumor that some of Acorn's children had been seen there. The rumor was false, but their money had run low. They'd had to stop and take jobs doing agricultural work. This was rough because the work paid little more than room and board in horrible little shacks.
They'll come here with the Mora girls and the new Mora baby. I can't restore their children to them, but I can see to it that they have work that sustains them and a decent place to Live. They'll live in the big house that is to be our first school. The house belongs to one of my supporters—one who said those magic words: "What can I do? What do you need?"
What don't we need!
The house is a big empty shell that the Douglas and Mora families will have to work hard on. It needs paint, repairs, landscaping, fencing, everything. But it has living room for a big family upstairs and teaching and working room downstairs. It will be a new beginning in so many ways. And the people who own it have relatives in both city and state government. They're the kind of people Jarret's Crusaders have learned to let alone.
Also, next month, Len and I are invited to teach at several homes in the Seattle area.
tuesday, november 13, 2035
I've finally talked Harry into coming north. He's run across the Figueroas and joined with them for the trip. He hasn't found Tabia or Russ, I'm sorry to say, but he has picked up three orphans. He found them on the road just north of San Luis Obispo. Their mother was hit by a truck. He saw it happen and went straight to the kids. There are more and more vehicles on the road during the day now. Walking is becoming more dangerous.
As horrible as the hit and
run was, I get the feeling it's given Harry what he needs—children to protect, children who need him, children who run to him and hold his hands when they're scared. He and Zahra always said they wanted a big family. He's such a good daddy. I have a teaching job for him in Seattle. I believe he'll thrive in it if he can let himself.
Jorge Cho and his family are coming. I've found work for Jorge and Di in Portland.
Now I have to look around for places for the Figueroas.
************************************
I believe that I've finally done it. I believe that my life has finally educated me enough to enable me to make a real start at planting Earthseed. It may be too soon to say this, but it feels true. I believe it is true.
I've allowed the Elfords to make The First Book of the Living available free on the nets. I never expected to make money from the book. My only fear has been that someone would take it and change it, make it an instrument of some other theology or use it for some new brand of demagoguery. Joel Elford says the best way to avoid that is to make it available on every possible net and with my name on it. And, of course, the copyright is my legal fallback if someone does begin to misuse it seriously.
"I don't think you realize what you have," Joel told me.
I looked at him in surprise and realized that he believed what he was saying.
"And you don't realize how many other people will want it," he continued. "I've aimed the book particularly at the nets that are intended to interest American universities and the smaller free cities where so many of those universities are located. It will go out worldwide, but it will draw more attention to itself in those places."
He was smiling, so I asked, "What are you expecting to happen?"
"You're going to start hearing from people," he said. "You'll soon have more attention than you'll know what to do with." He sobered. "And what you actually do with it is important. Be careful." Irma trusted me more than Joel did. Joel was still watching me—watching with a great deal of interest. He says it's like watching a birth.
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