What Happened To Charles? ( a short drama)

Stage Left Actress in long house dress, white wig. (Jean)

Jean: 'He is a perfect gentleman'- that's what I told her. Poor dear. Thirty-nine and still hoping. I don't understand what she's hoping for. Someone to share the expense of an apartment and the electric bill? A little security in her old age? Possibly. What she really has in mind is dinner for two at McCarthy's Café, long stemmed glasses of wine beside a fireplace, a dozen roses delivered from Bachman's any day but her birthday, and most important- a handsome escort to the Walker Arts and Letters Ball.
Is she really hoping to stand before God and family and vow to "love, honor and obey"? Obey? A man? Not on her life. She would have for Charles, rest his soul ( I guess), but that was so many years ago. She has been on her own for too many years to submit to compliant wifehood. For what Zora needs and wants at this time of her life, Fred will do. Fred will do just fine- for a while. Fred will never marry her or anybody else for that matter. I know she daydreams and chatters on about "that little gold band", but I'd bet that she'd flee the state of Minnesota if it were offered . It will all be all right. Fred is a perfect gentleman.

Center stage

Julie: Who was Charles?
Mary rifles through one stack, retrieves Harp of the Soul holding it up. The image is projected.
Mary: I don't know much about who he was, exactly, but I know that this instrument- this Oriental looking guitar relates to the Charles story.
Julie: I recognize that. It's been sitting around our house ever since I can remember. It's
covered in lizard or snake skin.
Mary: Zora gave it to Bob, and Charles sent it to her from China many, many years ago.

Next Scene

Stage left. Table is turned horizontally with portable drawing board at left end. Zora is seated in front of drawing board, with a watercolor brush in her hand. A San Xian, Chinese instrument is propped against far end of table. Small radio, (1940's) sits at far end of the table. Selected verses of "Night and Day" by Frank Sinatra come up audibly, then song fades. "Night and Day, you are the one- only you beneath the moon and under the sun-"

Zora: (talking to herself) Well, that young man has a pleasant voice. I don't understand what all the fuss is about, though. All those girls, screaming and fainting, making spectacles of themselves. Mobs of Bobby-soxers attending concerts all hours of the night. Where are their parents? one wonders. And what a scrawny little thing to be fainting over!
"Whether near to me, or far, it makes no difference where you are, I think of you- night and day"

Zora's head turns, as she actually listens to the words. She sighs, slowly, carefully, setting down her brush. She closes her eyes.

Zora: (dreamily) Oh, Charles, I still think of you.

Lights fade; and come back up on Stage Left. Table is pushed back; Zora wears a cloche hat- suggesting late 1920's. She is standing before the imaginary door, visibly nervous. A door-bell sounds. A woman comes to the door in long black dress, carrying a handkerchief.

Mrs. Healey: Miss Steenson! What is the meaning of your coming to this house?
Zora: I do apologize, Mrs. Healey, but I haven't heard for so long-
Mrs Healey: (disapprovingly) Charles had been corresponding with you, then.
Zora: Yes, but it's been four months since I received a letter.
Mrs. Healey: (in a stern, formal tone of voice) We have received no word from Charles for some time.
Zora: (tearful) Oh my, I'm so distraught! Isn't there something I can do?
Mrs. Healey: Do! Miss Steenson, I believe that you have done enough!
Zora: I haven't done anything but hope.
Mrs. Healey: It was with your encouragement that Charles set out on this terrible adventure! Charles was a perfectly ordinary, normal person until he started running around with- with artists.
Zora: (weeping) The last thing I ever wanted was that he should leave- but he was so set on it; so fascinated - I never thought that he might not- come back home.
Mrs. Healey: Miss Steenson, you and I have nothing more to say to one another. The only reason you should approach my door again, is to bring news of my son.
Zora: (stunned, sad, but not contrite) I am terribly sorry for you as well as for myself if something has happened to Charles, but it is very unfair to blame me because
your son is so headstrong. (She backs away, wiping her eyes and nose.)

Lights fade and come back up on Stage Left. Table with drawing board is replaced as it was before the Mrs. Healey interlude. Sinatra's Night and Day resumes "In the roaring traffic's boom, in the silence of my lonely room, I think of you- Night and Day"

Zora: What I did say to Charles was- ' I know what it is to believe that there is a bigger purpose to life. I know what it is to feel there is something one simply must do. And the only thing to do about it is to do it.' That, more or less, is what I said.
(pauses as the music fades)
I think I know why those little girls scream and faint over that singer. They know he is singing about something mysterious and true in this life but they are too young to really understand it.

Stage Right. Next Scene

Julie: Poor Zora! Did anyone ever hear from Charles?
Mary: I once heard that Hughberta met a fellow Marine from St. Paul who ran into Charles and
his Chinese wife in Hawaii. But- who knows? Her family could be a little catty about Zora's luckless love life.
Julie: But, she must have been devastated.
Mary: I'm sure she was. But, there might have been a kernel of truth in her mother's assessment of Zora’s true aspirations.
Julie: On some subconscious level, she wanted him to leave?
Mary: From what they had seen and experienced of their parents' marriage, neither of the
daughters could have been too impressed with the institution.
Julie: So instead of living the "normal" life of most women her age, housewife and mother, she was pursuing a career as an artist.
Mary: It's pretty clear that she didn't allow many distractions to her primary interest and I, for one, am glad that she made those choices.

Picking Themselves Up, Dusting Themselves Off

Snapping in the sharp and unpolluted air, flags of many nations form a lofty ring of tribute to competitors of the world: all those who strive for mastery. Blazing in perpetuity, the eternal flame sizzles and dances, enlivened by the wind and gently falling snow. The crowd moves in, respectful, celebratory, their jackets, parkas and knitted caps forming a mottled field of primary color. A cheer goes up as the three highest scorers ascend the platform. Weighty medallions are presented to each, settling upon victorious chests. Ecstatic winners humbly acknowledge the acclaim as their national anthems are sung.
Picking oneself up, dusting oneself off and starting all over again actually is an essential ingredient to every champion’s achievement, but Olympic medals are awarded only for athletic perseverance. Were there a similar award for resilience in life, what a crowded field would be in competition! And I think that Zora and Hughberta could have been serious contenders. Silver, maybe, Bronze, at least.

For starters, they survived early childhood on the Dakota prairie. ”Little House On The Prairie”, the tales written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, describe the desperate struggles of those early Dakota pioneers in the 1880’s and 90’s. Zora and Hughie’s mother grew up on a farm near the Ingalls’ homestead, and her family’s stories of survival on the prairie rivaled the famous author’s. A generation later at the turn of the century, life in a Dakota village was difficult enough. Winters were brutal. Coal for the cast iron stove had to be parsimoniously rationed when great drifts of snow on the railroad tracks delayed delivery to the little town- sometimes for weeks. A “country doctor”, possessing rudimentary medical education and little in the way of effective medications- compounds containing silver were the closest thing to antibiotics- traveled over several counties, bringing good advice, and laudanum for pain. His services, too, were often as the mercy of the inclement climate of South Dakota. In early March of 1909, Zora and her twin brother, Theo, both became dreadfully ill with what was later determined to be rheumatic fever. Their mother, seven months into a difficult pregnancy, nursed them and did what she could to keep them warm. Late that month, only a few days before his fifth birthday, Theo died. Hughberta’s birth a month later had to have been a painful reminder of their loss.
The lovely watercolor posted with this entry is called “The Twins.” A kind of memorium, Zora’s seraphic brother sits at the forefront of their mother’s lap, Zora herself, a dark, serious child eclipsed in shadow.

Survivors, to be sure. Hard times: the confusing insecurity of a parent who disappears for months- reemerging at times high spirited, money jingling in his pockets, and bearing presents for one and all; other times, morose and short tempered, broke and inebriated. The move to Minneapolis was a hopeful exodus to a civilized place where some of the necessities of life were accessible, especially medical care. Their youngest brother, DeVern, Bob’s father, was born shortly after the family settled in that beautiful city.
The Steensons’ life in the big town had other benefits: for one thing, income opportunities not available in a very small isolated town. Christine, their mother, called “Jean” as long as I knew her, found work as a cook in some grand homes overlooking the lakes. For many years it was a sporadic source of income until she became the cook at the grand Elks Temple in downtown Minneapolis where she worked for twenty years.
However, living in an established society definitely has a downside, especially for youngsters growing up in an environment where they don’t quite fit in.

The sisters developed different coping strategies. Zora envisioned the world as she preferred it to be and often seemed, inexplicably, to relate to and even refer to the world of her fantasies as though her dream world was quite evident to everyone. It worked for her in a way.
Hughberta was more cynically inclined. She could caustically and humorously deride conditions or situations which she perceived to be out of her reach. That approach may not always have worked to her benefit.
Each had her way of dealing with disappointments. As with all of us, their experiences were formative but their responses indelibly marked their characters. They were old hands at picking themselves up, dusting themselves off and starting all over again. Growing up poor in what we would today identify as a “dysfunctional family”, putting up with the ridicule of insensitive classmates, being passed over for better jobs, seeing the work of less talented, less competent artists praised and remunerated as they struggled for recognition- neither Zora nor Hughberta ever really got the breaks they deserved.

One big break did come along for each. Traveling the long trail of their long lives, both sisters at least once found themselves sidelined on the trail of broken hearts, detoured by the devastating blow of a truly failed romance. Abandoned, betrayed, ridiculed and ignored by the one who, insensitively perhaps, or maybe without even being aware of it, broke a heart. For many, a broken heart is a cautionary experience, an instruction from the sensei of life about keeping up one’s guard.A common interpretation of this lesson is to, one way or another, avoid intimacy. Thus, many lovers on the rebound choose a safe, conventional pairing. Some of the walking wounded make another pay, inflicting lifelong pain on a hapless partner. Avoiding any further serious entanglements while not the most satisfying, could certainly be the safest strategy.
Hughberta loved a high school classmate who led her on, and then cruelly made fun of her. Did he break her heart? Perhaps. That experience certainly influenced her opinion of men. Cletus didn’t break her heart; he made her mad, but he didn’t ruin her life. Actually, his infidelity goaded her to a decision that really did change her life for the better. Since the blissful, committed partnership was eluding her, Hughberta adopted the attitude that not only did she not want that kind of relationship, but that the whole concept of marriage was defective and undesirable. Later in life, she did change her mind about that.
Romantic that she was, Zora was an open target for Cupid’s poisoned darts. I believe that she was fairly young- early twenties when she met the love of her life. It is possible that the young man simply didn’t appreciate the intensity of her ardor; it is also possible that he put as much distance between them as he could.

Twentieth century’s expectation of women- certainly woman in midwestern America was unequivocal. By twenty-five years of age, if she were not yet married and raising a family, she had better be working on it- before it was too late. Zora’s nod to society looked to her sister-in-law like self-deception, but may just as likely have been a creatively crafted evasion technique. Zora went through the rituals of attracting beaus, going out on dates, and lamenting her spinsterhood while consistently choosing unlikely prospects for marriage.
The bottom line was: Zora and Hughberta’s life-long companions turned out to be each other.
But I have a few more stories---