by Kit Duncan
Silas and I were walking the bluebonnets late one morning a few days after Cory jumped in the pond. I forget now what he was fussing at me about, but it had something to do with whether or not people could be innately good or bad, and the more we talked the more irritated he became with me.
But isn't there good and evil, I had challenged him. He sniffed indignantly and said dichotomies were for sissies. I never did figure that out entirely, but he seemed very self assured about his position.
He did clarify it a little.
"We're all goodness. It's just buried a little deeper in some folks than others," he explained.
"And evil?" I asked.
"No such thing as evil, really," he said. "Evil ain't nothing but not enough goodness. The goodness most likely is there, but if a person doesn't show the goodness it don't count for much."
"So evil is a passive thing?" That didn't make much sense to me.
"No!" His voice was stern "Not passive. The absence of goodness is very volatile, very agitating. Like a washing machine. If you don't have enough goodness showing you're going to be spinning like a top most of the time, causing havoc to yourself and others. Hard to have fun in life or eternity if you're too busy spinning all the time. Better to just let your goodness rise to the top, kinda like cream. Hey, you hungry? I'm about ready for dinner." And he took long, quick strides toward the house.
Later that afternoon I helped Sallie with the laundry. We washed everything by hand. A few times each week we took a couple loads down by the creek way off behind the shed, scrubbed them till our hands were nearly raw, rinsed, wrung, then hung them on the line. The next morning, unless it rained or the dew was especially heavy overnight, we'd take them off the line, fold them, put them away.
I loved the scent of fresh eternal breeze on sun- soaked clothes.
As we were folding the last couple of towels, I thought about Silas' reference to a washing machine the day before. "Sallie," I asked. "You ever had a real washing machine?"
"What would I need one of those for?"
"Well, wouldn't it make life, or eternity, a little easier?"
"What do I want with easier?" she asked.
"Convenience?"
"For what?"
"Well, I guess to save time."
"Save time?" Sallie chuckled, and sat the basket down on the ground by one of the Adirondacks. "Let's take a break," she said. I sat down with her.
"Now, this business of saving time," she started.
"Uh huh," I nodded.
"Well, a couple of things."
"Uh huh."
"First," Sallie said. "Time don't need rescuing. Time is doing alright all on its own."
"I'm not sure you understand what I…."
"Second," she said. "When you've got eternity under your feet, you don't look for shortcuts. Shortcuts keep you from enjoying your way."
"Uh huh."
"And in the third place," Sallie said, "I like washing clothes by the creek. I like cooking with a stove instead of, what are those contraptions ya'll got down there these days, microwaves? I like walking instead of riding some kind of motorized conveyance about. I like visiting my friends instead of yacking on a phone. No sir," she concluded. "Your conveniences just might be a way of keeping me from doing things I like to do."
"But, I mean," I stammered, and I wasn't sure if my next question made any sense whatsoever. "What if you're too busy to do the things you enjoy?"
"Honey child," Sallie said, "If I'm too busy to do the things I enjoy, I am plain too busy, period." She looked up at the sky. "Looks like we might get a little thunderstorm this afternoon. We'd better pack these clothes into the house and get dinner on."
After the dishes were put away and we were sitting in the living room, Sallie laughed and told Silas I was pestering her for a new Maytag. I looked up at her, then him, shook my head no, and Sallie laughed. Silas giggled a little.
"Oh, most of our newbies wind up suggesting we install a few modern doodads before they leave," he said.
"But I didn't…."
"Never mind, Newbie," Silas laughed. "Doesn't matter if you did or you didn't."
I sulked for a little while, but very quietly. Silas had finished Catcher in the Rye several weeks earlier and was over half way through with Splendor in the Grass. I told him I wondered it that wasn't a little racy for Paradise but Sallie shushed me, said let the man read what he wants to read, and they winked at one another.
Sallie was working on the afghan, and it seemed to look more like a small throw and less like a wad of yarn every day. I commented on how pretty it was, and she held up so I could see it better. "You like it, Honey?" I nodded and said, "Yes, very much." She smiled and kept crocheting.
The clouds clapped thunder all afternoon, and the skies poured down until nearly dark.
"So, there's no technology in eternity?" I asked.
"Why, sure there is!" Silas said. He turned a page, read very intensely, looked at Sallie, and said, "Dear, have you read this play?"
"Yes, Dear," she smiled and nodded.
"My goodness!" He kept reading.
"So, where is the technology?" I asked to anyone in the room who might care to answer.
"Why, we got plenty of technology!" Sallie exclaimed. "We've got running water, got an indoor toilet and tub, we've got lights, an icebox, and a furnace."
"Well, yes," I said. "But what about computers, TV's, and cars, that kind of thing? I don't mean just conveniences, like you and I were talking about earlier. I mean, like entertainment. Video games, for example. Doesn't eternity have anything like that?"
"Sure, we do!" Silas said. "I mean, not around here we don't, but it's only 'cause we don't want 'em. Some towns, they've got most of the latest gadgets. Some towns, don't. Just like among the living, really. Only around here, it's just a preference thing. It's not about what you can afford, it's about what you want."
"You mean, you could have electronics and you don't want them?" I asked.
"Right," Silas said, closing the book and setting it on the table next to him. "I think I'll look at this later on tonight," he whispered to Sallie, and she smiled and whispered back, "Yes, Dear."
"Well," I shook my head slowly. "I just don't get it."
Silas stood up and walked toward the kitchen to get himself a peach. As he passed by my chair he looked down at me and said, "Just because you don't get it don't mean it's not got."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE