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"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards
Bethlehem to be born?" The historic record is complete enough for us to be
pretty certain that Yeats did not have Bethlehem, PA in mind, but it is still
a remote possibility. A steel town for much of its history Bethlehem, PA
gave birth to things of one sort or another. Whether any of them qualified
as "rough beasts," would take a greater knowledge of the place's history to
determine and since I arrived in the vicinity only on Thursday, I cannot
supply much help.
Many travelers will have experienced the feeling that they have landed in an
alien place. People don't speak a language you are familiar with, the rules
of polite behavior are different, you need a driver's license before you can
buy a car. That sort of thing. And such views are exacerbated when you run
into a Rocky. Rocky owned the franchise of a company that rents you aids to
moving. Rocky had a little trouble telling the truth. And he could have
given John Cleese lessons in how to irritate people. But we got past that
obstacle and continued with the business of moving J. into new accommodation
dining, as one does, sitting at the bottom of the stairs and using a
cardboard box for a table.
Our search for a table and chairs took us to Habitat for Humanity, an
organization that sells used furniture and building supplies. What they have
depends on what people donate. We found one or two things and kept coming
back to the one table and chairs. My problem was a prejudice against
particle board, which was the material beneath the veneer of the table. And
the foot of the table and the chairs and the sideboard didn't match the top.
Close, but not quite. Why, you ask, should one worry about such matters?
It's someone starting out. Good enough will do.
It's because I find joy in beauty and in a stressful life--and boy is she
about to have one of those, starting Ob/Gyn residency--I think it might be
important to have beauty in quotidian things. So we walked away, went in
search of consignment stores. We even walked into an actual furniture store,
with sales people in it. And exited quickly. I am allergic to such places.
Long story short, we bought the one in Habitat, brought it home, removed
generations of dirt and found beneath: a pretty good table, a sideboard made
in North Carolina when things were well made, and chairs that are exquisitely
constructed of turned hardwood with figure in it. "Figure" is my
wood-turning colleague's term for "swirly bits." The two extra chairs that
we bought are similarly beautiful. Score one to ancient crafts people.
We arrived at the veg and meat market just as it was closing. I told J. that
when I was a student we used to do this deliberately because meat sellers
want to get rid of product and so reduce prices. Sure enough, "any cut,
$2.99 a pound." We bought her a pork shoulder, a beef sirloin, bits and
pieces. And they rounded down to a flat twenty dollars.
I was counting Rocky an exception until we discovered, late on Saturday
evening, that our plan to check out cars on Sunday was not possible;
hereabouts all car dealers close on Sunday. Who knew?
David Ritchie,
Allentown, PA
