Authors: Madeleine L'engle
The Moon by Night (17 page)
“If he interferes every time we do wrong where's our freedom of choice?”
“But it wasn't
fair
. It wasn't
right
,” I persisted.
fair
. It wasn't
right
,” I persisted.
Uncle Douglas sighed. For a while he worked on his sketch of me. Then he sighed and said, “One of the biggest facts you have to face, Vicky, is that if there
is
a God he's infinite, and we're finite, and therefore we can't ever understand him. The minute anybody starts telling you what God thinks, or exactly why he does such and such, beware. People should never try to make God in man's image, and that's what they're constantly doing. Not your grandfather. But he's extraordinary. So in my heathen way, Vicky, when I wasn't much older than you, I decided that God, a kind and loving God, could never be proved. In fact there are, as you've been seeing lately, a lot of arguments
against
him. But there isn't any point to life without him. Without him we're just a skin disease on the face of the earth, and I feel too strongly about the human spirit to be able to settle for that. So what I did for a long time was to live life
as though
I believed in God. And eventually I found out that the
as though
had turned into a reality. I think the thing that did it for me was a jigsaw puzzle.”
is
a God he's infinite, and we're finite, and therefore we can't ever understand him. The minute anybody starts telling you what God thinks, or exactly why he does such and such, beware. People should never try to make God in man's image, and that's what they're constantly doing. Not your grandfather. But he's extraordinary. So in my heathen way, Vicky, when I wasn't much older than you, I decided that God, a kind and loving God, could never be proved. In fact there are, as you've been seeing lately, a lot of arguments
against
him. But there isn't any point to life without him. Without him we're just a skin disease on the face of the earth, and I feel too strongly about the human spirit to be able to settle for that. So what I did for a long time was to live life
as though
I believed in God. And eventually I found out that the
as though
had turned into a reality. I think the thing that did it for me was a jigsaw puzzle.”
“A
jig
saw puzzle?”
jig
saw puzzle?”
“A jigsaw puzzle. Hold still. Chin a little higher. You know
those puzzles with hundreds of tiny pieces? You take one of those pieces all by itself and it doesn't make sense, does it? You look at one piece and it doesn't seem to be part of a picture. But you put all the pieces together and you see the meaning of it all. Well, what I, in my heathenish way, Vicky, feel about life, and unfairness, is that we find it hard to realize that there
is
a completed puzzle. We jump to conclusions and decide that the one little piece we have in our hand is all there is and that it doesn't make sense. We find it almost impossible to
think
about infinity, much less comprehend it. But life only makes sense if you see it in infinite terms. If the one piece of the puzzle that is this life were all, then everything would be horrible and unfair and I wouldn't want much to do with God, either. But there are all the other pieces, too, the pieces that make up the whole picture. Now I'm just going to slap some water color on this. Can you hold it a while longer? Maybe when I'm done I'll cut it up into tiny pieces and put them in an envelope and give them to you to fit together. So you can find out what Vicky is. The jigsaw puzzle is a nice, stretchable metaphor. You can use it for almost anything. Now let's stop talking abstractions and get down to specifics. Did Zachary do anything to you that he shouldn't have done?”
those puzzles with hundreds of tiny pieces? You take one of those pieces all by itself and it doesn't make sense, does it? You look at one piece and it doesn't seem to be part of a picture. But you put all the pieces together and you see the meaning of it all. Well, what I, in my heathenish way, Vicky, feel about life, and unfairness, is that we find it hard to realize that there
is
a completed puzzle. We jump to conclusions and decide that the one little piece we have in our hand is all there is and that it doesn't make sense. We find it almost impossible to
think
about infinity, much less comprehend it. But life only makes sense if you see it in infinite terms. If the one piece of the puzzle that is this life were all, then everything would be horrible and unfair and I wouldn't want much to do with God, either. But there are all the other pieces, too, the pieces that make up the whole picture. Now I'm just going to slap some water color on this. Can you hold it a while longer? Maybe when I'm done I'll cut it up into tiny pieces and put them in an envelope and give them to you to fit together. So you can find out what Vicky is. The jigsaw puzzle is a nice, stretchable metaphor. You can use it for almost anything. Now let's stop talking abstractions and get down to specifics. Did Zachary do anything to you that he shouldn't have done?”
I started to shake my head, then remembered that Uncle Douglas was painting me. “You mean did he make out too much and stuff?”
“And stuff,” Uncle Douglas said.
“No stuff,” I said. I don't know why I wasn't furious with Uncle Douglas. I would have been if it had been Mother or Daddy.
“Then ⦠.” He left it up in the air.
“You
guessed
it,” I said. “It was all the stuff you were talking about. Did Daddy tell you about Zachary's rheumatic fever and his heart and all?”
guessed
it,” I said. “It was all the stuff you were talking about. Did Daddy tell you about Zachary's rheumatic fever and his heart and all?”
“Yes.”
“Does Daddy think Zachary's going to die?”
“Why don't you ask him? Your father hasn't examined Zachary, so he can't really tell. But he says, on a superficial guess, it looks more as though Zachary were trying to kill himself than as though he really had to die young. I don't honestly think he's a very healthy person for you to see, Vicky.”
“Nobody likes him,” I said bitterly. “Nobody's even bothered to know him.”
“You like him?”
“I don't know.”
“We're not trying to interfere, Vicky. And we're not trying to keep you from growing up. We'd just like to try to make it as easy as possible, because we love you.”
“But you said that nothing that was worth anything was easy.”
“Touché. But it doesn't need to be quite as difficult as you can make it if you insist on going at it completely alone. After all, the only way man has gone as far as he has is by benefitting from other people's experience.”
Aunt Elena'd finally switched from her finger exercises which had been sort of boring into our subconscious like a drill, and gone into a Bach fugue.
“It's like a fugue, too,” Uncle Douglas said, as Aunt Elena started the fugue over again. “Elena and I are lucky ones. She has music and I have painting. They give form and shape to everything we do. It was music that kept Elena from being destroyed
when Hal died. You'll be better off when you know what you want to be, Vicky.”
when Hal died. You'll be better off when you know what you want to be, Vicky.”
“But I haven't any talents,” I said, “the way John and Suzy do.”
“I think the trouble is that you have too
many
talents. There are all kinds of directions you could go. You're an artist of some kind. That I'm sure of. It's the roughest of all lives, and the most rewarding. There. That's all I'm going to do today. Want to see it?”
many
talents. There are all kinds of directions you could go. You're an artist of some kind. That I'm sure of. It's the roughest of all lives, and the most rewarding. There. That's all I'm going to do today. Want to see it?”
I got up and looked at the painting. “I'd just as soon you didn't cut it up into little pieces.”
“Like it? So do I. You're on your way to being a real beauty, child, but it's all in what's
behind
your face. Right now everything's promise. I'm not going to let you have this because I like it, too. As a matter of fact it's one of the best darned things I've ever done. Let's go show it to Elena.”
behind
your face. Right now everything's promise. I'm not going to let you have this because I like it, too. As a matter of fact it's one of the best darned things I've ever done. Let's go show it to Elena.”
“But she's practicing.”
“Right. And I never interrupt her except for something special. Bless you, Vicky, my darling!” His voice soared happily. “I've finally broken through to something I've been reaching for for weeks and was beginning to despair about. Come on! Hi, Elena! Vicky and I've done it!” He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in to Aunt Elena, and he was so happy that I completely forgot that I was miserable.
I
didn't see Zachary again while we were at Laguna Beach. He came down with a bad cold, and he had to go to bed, though he wouldn't see a doctor. But he called me and tried to get our itinerary.
didn't see Zachary again while we were at Laguna Beach. He came down with a bad cold, and he had to go to bed, though he wouldn't see a doctor. But he called me and tried to get our itinerary.
“I don't
know
what it is. That's one of the whole points of this trip, for Daddy not to have to do anything on schedule or make any definite plans.”
know
what it is. That's one of the whole points of this trip, for Daddy not to have to do anything on schedule or make any definite plans.”
“But you must have some vague, general idea where you're going.”
“We're going up the coast. All the way into Canada. We're going to stay with friends in Victoria, and I think we're going to Banff, and Glacier, and Yellowstone. Those are the only specific places Daddy's mentioned.”
“That's enough to go on,” Zachary said. “Give me your address in Victoria, so I can write you.” I did, and he said, “I won't see you there, but later on I'll find you.”
“But I thought you were going to Alaska.”
“I've changed my mind. We can't leave things just up in the air like this. If I want to ask you to a school dance or something next year I'll have to win your family over. Right now they view me about as kindly as they would a king cobra. Have you got a radio in your car?”
“Yes. Why?” A radio didn't seem to have much to do with Zachary's winning Mother and Daddy.
And
John. John took the dimmest view of Zachary of all.
And
John. John took the dimmest view of Zachary of all.
“You'll discover California radio stations are full of
doom
. They'll remind you of me, and I don't want them to remind you in the wrong way.”
doom
. They'll remind you of me, and I don't want them to remind you in the wrong way.”
“I've had enough doom lately,” I said. “I won't listen.”
“You can't help it.
Keep your car full of gas at all times in case of an enemy attack.
Where the bleeding blossoms do they think you can go?
Keep refilling gallon jugs of water. Have a two weeks supply of canned food on hand at all times.
Nobody ever bothers to say that if people ever get insane enough to start a nuclear war
every
thing will get blown to bits and two weeks of canned corned beef won't save anybody. The thing to go on about is not remembering to keep your car full of gas, but to keep a nuclear war from starting. That's
one
reason I'm going to Choate next year. That's
one
reason I'm going to be a lawyer. Not just what I said. That's what I want you to remember when the radio starts talking doom and you think of me. With which untypical words I shall hang up. Here's a kiss.” I heard the sound of a kiss and then he hung up with a clack.
Keep your car full of gas at all times in case of an enemy attack.
Where the bleeding blossoms do they think you can go?
Keep refilling gallon jugs of water. Have a two weeks supply of canned food on hand at all times.
Nobody ever bothers to say that if people ever get insane enough to start a nuclear war
every
thing will get blown to bits and two weeks of canned corned beef won't save anybody. The thing to go on about is not remembering to keep your car full of gas, but to keep a nuclear war from starting. That's
one
reason I'm going to Choate next year. That's
one
reason I'm going to be a lawyer. Not just what I said. That's what I want you to remember when the radio starts talking doom and you think of me. With which untypical words I shall hang up. Here's a kiss.” I heard the sound of a kiss and then he hung up with a clack.
Going up the coast, and knowing I wouldn't see Zachary for a while, I began to un-tense. I managed not to listen to the doom
parts of the radio. After all, there's always been doom. What about teen-agers growing up during the Black Plague times when nine out of every ten people died? I mean we're not the only ones to have it rough.
parts of the radio. After all, there's always been doom. What about teen-agers growing up during the Black Plague times when nine out of every ten people died? I mean we're not the only ones to have it rough.
Pismo Beach in California we loved, because there were great enormous sand-dunes, and it seemed much more like a real beach than Laguna. Uncle Douglas had told us that some of the desert scenes for movies were shot there at Pismo, and you could very easily imagine a camel appearing over the crest of a dune. Most of the people there were settled down for a two weeks vacation, lots of them to go fishing. It was too cold for swimming, but we had a marvelous time being Arabs on the dunes with a whole gang of other kids. I really threw myself into it as though I were Rob's age.
One thing we loved, especially Suzy, on the way up the coast, was the seals on the Seventeen Mile Drive, just beyond Carmel. We stood at the water's edge and looked out at the offshore rocks, really not very far from us, and there, cavorting out in the water, or lying sunning on the rocks, were dozens and dozens of seals. One quite large rock was entirely covered with seals and cormorants. We'd never seen them out of a zoo before, and we could hardly tear Rob and Suzy away.
San Francisco; Humboldt State Park in the midst of the enormous redwoods; a big lumber mill in Scotia, Oregon; the Bumble Bee tuna and salmon factory in Astoria, Oregon, and John Jacob Astor's tower; it was all fascinating, if not violently exciting. In Oregon we saw our first
green
hills since we hit desert country way back in Arizona, but in Oregon also was the worst devastation from forest fires. It was very frightening to see
the great, gaunt, blackened bones of trees. We drove along a beautiful, wild, winding coast line, with sheep grazing right by the road. We passed lots of trucks carrying redwood logs. Occasionally there'd be a log so huge it would be an entire truckload. Just
one
log, imagine! The average load we figured was three. There were fishing boats out in the Pacific, and one night we had fresh salmon for dinner, the best we ever tasted.
green
hills since we hit desert country way back in Arizona, but in Oregon also was the worst devastation from forest fires. It was very frightening to see
the great, gaunt, blackened bones of trees. We drove along a beautiful, wild, winding coast line, with sheep grazing right by the road. We passed lots of trucks carrying redwood logs. Occasionally there'd be a log so huge it would be an entire truckload. Just
one
log, imagine! The average load we figured was three. There were fishing boats out in the Pacific, and one night we had fresh salmon for dinner, the best we ever tasted.
In Mt. Olympic National Park we had our first real rain, but we expected it, because it has the highest annual rainfall in the continental United States. The funny thing is that there's a place quite nearby, spelled Sequim, but pronounced Squim, which is so dry by contrast that they have to irrigate.
On Mt. Olympic it was easy to believe in the almost continual rainfall, because the campgrounds were in the kind of luxuriant forest that only comes with a lot of moisture; tall, lush green trees, many of the trunks almost covered with moss; grass that is constantly wetâand wet firewood, too, the first we'd had to struggle with since Tennessee. The leaves were so thick over our heads that although it drizzled the whole time we didn't get nearly as wet as you might have thought.
The next day to get to Victoria, in British Columbia, we had to take a ferry across the Straits of Juan de Fuca. Isn't that a beautiful sound,
the Straits of Juan de Fuca?
Like something out of a song. I wonder what kind of a song Zachary would make out of it?
the Straits of Juan de Fuca?
Like something out of a song. I wonder what kind of a song Zachary would make out of it?
Victoria seemed much more like really being in a foreign country than our few hours in Mexico had. It's a beautiful place, very English, with baskets of flowers hanging from the lamp posts, and the houses of Parliament outlined in lights at night like something out of fairyland. If Mother and Daddy had told us that
we were all going to live in Victoria I don't think any of us would have minded it one bit.
we were all going to live in Victoria I don't think any of us would have minded it one bit.
We stayed with friends of Mother's and Daddy's, and we stayed in elegance, which we wouldn't have done if we lived there. These friends must have been as rich as Zachary's parents. They had a huge house, I mean but enormous, and I had a room completely to myself for the first time in my life. It was absolutely super and made me feel like royalty. There was a cook and a butler and stuff so we didn't even have to help with the dishes. We just sat back and got waited on. It was very nice for a change.
We washed hair and took baths and did laundry and Mother and Daddy had slews of mail and we had quite a lot of notes from the kids at home and we sent dozens of postcards back to them.
And I had a letter from Zachary.
“Dear Victoria,
They're rioting in Africa,
They're starving in Spain.
When will I see
My Vicky-bird again?
The whole world is festering
With sadness and sorrow.
I wish I could kiss
My Vicky-bird tomorrow,
Italians hate Yugoslavs,
South Africans hate the Dutch,
But I like Victoria
Very much.
And I'd deeply appreciate it
If you'd write back.
Love and hugs and doom and stuff.
Zach.”
They're rioting in Africa,
They're starving in Spain.
When will I see
My Vicky-bird again?
The whole world is festering
With sadness and sorrow.
I wish I could kiss
My Vicky-bird tomorrow,
Italians hate Yugoslavs,
South Africans hate the Dutch,
But I like Victoria
Very much.
And I'd deeply appreciate it
If you'd write back.
Love and hugs and doom and stuff.
Zach.”
It wasn't exactly my idea of a love poem. But it'd do. It was just fine. The reason I knew it was just fine was I sang the whole time I was in the shower washing my hair, sang at the top of my lungs.
Mother came in and said, “That sounded good, Vicky. I haven't heard you sing like that for a long time. Put on your dress, darling, we're going to the Beach Hotel for dinner.”
After an elegant dinner we went to the Butchart Gardens, in the dark, in a gently falling rain. It reminded me of Am-Lowell's poem, “Patterns.”
And the plashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden paths.
The dripping never stops.
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden paths.
The dripping never stops.
The lover of the girl in the poem gets killed, and it's very sad, and she's terrifically brave and all. If she weren't so brave the poem wouldn't make you choke up the way it does.
I moved a little away from the others and walked on the soft wet lawn with the misty rain gentle against my cheeks, with lighted flowers gleaming on every side, and pretended that I was walking with Zachary, and that he wasn't being doom-ey and scarey, but gentle and strong. And that he took me into the flowers and kissed me. Anyhow, at least I'd never be sweet sixteen
and never been kissed even if another boy never looked at me between now and then. At least I'd got
that
far in growing up.
and never been kissed even if another boy never looked at me between now and then. At least I'd got
that
far in growing up.
We did a lot of sightseeing in Victoria. Mother's and Daddy's friends said it really was supposed to be very like England, and that the climate is similar, too, lots of rain, and never very cold in winter nor very hot in summer. We drove around the Lieutenant General's mansion and gardens and ate in a real fish and chips place. After church on Sunday morning, we drove out to a wonderful place at Shawnigan Lake where there was a gang of kids and we all went swimming and saw a mink sitting on a rock by the water. We were warned not to go near it because minks bite, but it was another new animal for Suzy.
From Victoria we went to Vancouver where we stayed with friends again. These friends had a tiny apartment, and Mother and Daddy slept on pull-out couches in the living room, with the rest of us in our sleeping bags wherever we could find a space on the floor. John and I put our sleeping bags under the piano, which took up most of the room, anyhow.
After we left Vancouver we spent almost a week wandering through British Columbia which is the most beautiful place I have ever seen in the world. As Mother says John Fortescue says etcetera, comparisons are odious, and we saw so many beautiful places you couldn't really choose between them, but British Columbia was the most
happily
beautiful place we saw on the whole trip, maybe because nothing exciting happened. Unless you count having a snowball fight in July exciting. The weather was gorgeous, the scenery was gorgeous, for a change I wasn't feeling moody, and I think maybe part of it all was that everything was so unutterably beautiful that nobody could be unhappy there
for long. If a place can remind you of a person, British Columbia reminded me of Grandfather.
happily
beautiful place we saw on the whole trip, maybe because nothing exciting happened. Unless you count having a snowball fight in July exciting. The weather was gorgeous, the scenery was gorgeous, for a change I wasn't feeling moody, and I think maybe part of it all was that everything was so unutterably beautiful that nobody could be unhappy there
for long. If a place can remind you of a person, British Columbia reminded me of Grandfather.
The campsites were very clean but quite primitive. There were nice fireplaces, but no water, except from the rushing streams or lakes we camped by, so that we had to boil all the drinking water. No lavs, only small outhouses. But these were cleaner and less smelly than some of the lavs with full electrical equipment. It was the way you'd imagine the Norwegian fjords, the way you'd image the Swiss alps. Great grandeur and absolute simplicity.
We saw practically no cars with American license plates, and that was fun, too. Mother kept saying that it really did remind her of Switzerland, that there were the same spring flowers, the same feel to the way the grass grew and the sun shone while snow still lurked in the shadows, so that sometimes you weren't certain whether a patch of white was left-over snow or spring flowers.
When we got to Kootenay National Park (it's still in British Columbia, but it runs right into Banff at the B.C.-Alberta line) we saw nine bears, three of them darling little cubs. These were our first bears since the one in Tennessee, the night I met Zachary, and we were all very excited to see them. The cubs were so cute and cuddly they looked almost like toys, as though you could get out and play with them. But Daddy reminded us that they're wild animals, no matter how domesticated they look, and their mothers would soon put an end to any fun and games with human beings! We also saw one moose, one grey timber wolf, and five longhorn mountain sheep. Earlier that morning we had seen one mink, two deer, and innumerable chipmunks, so it was a red
letter day for Suzy. Her Travel Book was dirty and worn and rapidly filling up with animals, birds, and bugsâthough nothing else.
letter day for Suzy. Her Travel Book was dirty and worn and rapidly filling up with animals, birds, and bugsâthough nothing else.
Half the road through Kootenay-Banff National Park was under construction and miserable for Mother, Daddy, and John to drive through, in spite of the fun of seeing bears, and the magnificent scenery. When we got to Banff the town was mobbed, and we discovered that Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip were arriving the next morning! Ever since we'd reached Canada Mother and Daddy had carefully been planning to avoid them, in spite of our pleas to see a real queen, because of the crowds they'd attract.
We'd expected a lot of Banff, but it was by far the poorest National Park we'd been in. It was huge, and
jammed
with people, though I suppose this was mostly because of the Queen, and if it hadn't been so crowded it wouldn't have been so bad. There weren't any separate campsites, which made things worse. You simply had to find a space big enough for car and tent. There weren't any tables or fireplaces, and there was as much dust as there had been at Palo Duro or Grand Canyon. If you looked up you saw the tops of the pine trees and the mountains rising above, with their grand, snow-topped crests, so we didn't regret being there, but it wasn't going to be the more or less luxurious two days we'd looked forward to. No chance to wash clothes, or even ourselves, for that matter. Cooking wasn't easy, either, because of the mobs of people. There were communal kitchens, with four tables in each, and two wood stoves, and far too many people in camp for the kitchens, so we planned to eat at odd hours. Also it wasn't really convenient for cooking because we
were geared to set everything up around the tent. The lavs didn't have any lights, which you don't expect in State Parks, but do you expect in National ones, and there weren't nearly enough lavs to go 'round, so we were always having to stand in line, which was miserable if you happened to be in a hurry. We didn't complain out loud after Mother and Daddy shushed us up, because, they explained, we were visitors in a foreign country and it wasn't courteous to make cracks. But the Canadian campers around us complained loudly, and the louder they groused, the better it made us feel.
jammed
with people, though I suppose this was mostly because of the Queen, and if it hadn't been so crowded it wouldn't have been so bad. There weren't any separate campsites, which made things worse. You simply had to find a space big enough for car and tent. There weren't any tables or fireplaces, and there was as much dust as there had been at Palo Duro or Grand Canyon. If you looked up you saw the tops of the pine trees and the mountains rising above, with their grand, snow-topped crests, so we didn't regret being there, but it wasn't going to be the more or less luxurious two days we'd looked forward to. No chance to wash clothes, or even ourselves, for that matter. Cooking wasn't easy, either, because of the mobs of people. There were communal kitchens, with four tables in each, and two wood stoves, and far too many people in camp for the kitchens, so we planned to eat at odd hours. Also it wasn't really convenient for cooking because we
were geared to set everything up around the tent. The lavs didn't have any lights, which you don't expect in State Parks, but do you expect in National ones, and there weren't nearly enough lavs to go 'round, so we were always having to stand in line, which was miserable if you happened to be in a hurry. We didn't complain out loud after Mother and Daddy shushed us up, because, they explained, we were visitors in a foreign country and it wasn't courteous to make cracks. But the Canadian campers around us complained loudly, and the louder they groused, the better it made us feel.
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