In Gore Vidal’s Lincoln, General Grant is about to receive Lee’s surrender. Lincoln says, “Let him up easy, General. Let him up easy.” Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to women and men who were willing to “Let him up easy.”
Been thinkin’ of Pilgrim, and Pilgrim makes me think of my mother, Delores Beckman.
Delores was a writer. In later years she had two children’s books published by Dutton. My Own Private Sky won the International Reading Association Book of the Year in 1980. Mom always called the book “Arthur.”
Been thinkin’ of Pilgrim, an 89-year-old man whose mind is fading. He lives with his daughter, Jenny, in California. Jenny has lost her husband and her place and “moved to California to start over.”
Pilgrim has moments of clarity in the novel, and his wisdom bursts through, even in the repeated old stories of life in Arizona.
Jenny comes home from the hospital on crutches. Pilgrim has been confused, wondering where Jenny was while she was in rehab. In the kitchen, she tries to do too much and falls.
“Well, I have had enough of this.” Cousin Hattie reached to pick up the crutch. “In all my born days—“
“Let her be.” Pilgrim filled the doorway. “Fair’s fair. Let her be.”
After Jenny is back in her wheelchair, the scene returns to Pilgrim.
Pilgrim picked up her glasses and laid them in her lap. “Come a long ways. Set and rest a spell.”
She grabbed his hand and wiped the tears from her eyes with it.
After a while she let him take it away. He went back to his chair and leaned close to Tuffy Apple. “Jenny’s tired, boy.”
These lines have stayed with me through the years. Pilgrim’s fog leaves in that important moment, and truth is spoken, using lines from his past. “Fair’s fair. Let her be.” and “Jenny is tired, Boy.” It’s one of those scenes that makes you feel bone tired, right along with Jenny.
“Been so long. Thinken I don’t have a Jenny anymore,” Pilgrim says when he hears she is coming home. Pilgrim used to be strong and sure. The contrast is powerful. Pilgrim, fading away while Jenny takes care of him, becomes tall and sure, rescuing Jenny.
For Mom’s eulogy, in 1994, I read these words. I hoped God said, “Come a long ways. Set and rest a spell.”
Been thinkin’.
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