insistence, an unfamiliar hard edge. For the first time in my hearing, my father was on the defensive, querulous and irresolute. My mother believed she had seen the face of evil and wanted to leave New Jesper for one of the North Shore towns.
We don't belong there, my father said. All they care about is their country club and the commuter train. Bedroom towns.
Safe towns, my mother said.
My father thought it unseemly, the probate court judge living out of town.
Your cases come from all over the county, my mother said. What's the difference which town you live in?
The courthouse is here, my father said.
You have a car, my mother replied.
I like walking to work, my father said. Gives me a chance to think, stretch my legs. I notice things. Someone is building a tree house for his kid. Someone else has bought a new car. Dry Goods has a sale. I'll say hello to half a dozen people and I'll visit for a while, learn what's going on. And there's a lot more than you might think, quite a lot more. People have troubles and they tell me their troubles. Sometimes I can help. I know we have a placid surface here but that's all it is, a surface. What we read in the
World
is what Alfred Swan wants us to read, and that's all right. Alfred does his job as he sees fit. But there's a whole other life here, a civilization that's layered. And that's what I hear about on my walk to work and later in the courthouse. These things matter to me. They matter more than I can say. I was born here, grew up here, went to school here, practiced law here. Our friends are here. We've had a nice life here, you and I. Maybe the idea would be to get a new house, larger, with a better view of the lake. I've never lived anywhere else and never wanted to live anywhere else and that's why this is so damned hard for me, dear.
I'm not suggesting we move to California, my mother said. I'm proposing we move a few miles south. You'll still have your friends. You'll still know what's going on in New Jesper. They just won't live next door. Anyhow, maybe it's time to make new friends. The North Shore is—lovely.
We're too old to make new friends, my father said, an observation to which my mother did not reply.
You forget, Melody. I'm twenty years older than you are.
That's one of the things I'm thinking about. It's time for you to back off a little. Not work so hard. Take some time off.
It's giving up, my father said. You're throwing in the towel. You're surrendering to the barbarians.
They've won, my mother said.
I hate to believe that. I won't believe it.
Believe it, my mother said.
I see things from a different point of view, my father said. It's another way of life, being on the inside of things, and I feel responsible. I have a responsibility to New Jesper. I'm not sure you've ever understood that or appreciated it.
I understand more than you think, my mother said.
What I try to do is protect the reputation of the town, my father said. We're more than just the place where Walter Bing makes tennis rackets and it's sometimes seemed to me that everyone is trying to define us according to their own prejudices—big joke, Oh, you come from New Jesper, where they make the tennis rackets, ha-ha. My aim is that we define ourselves. No one does that for us. We have a fine town here. It's a—moral town. I think that all things considered we handled the bad situations pretty well. Things could have gotten out of hand. We avoided publicity. Speculation was at a minimum. You hardly hear anyone talk about it, or if they do talk about it, they talk about it in private. It's out of mind, as it should be. It's old news. We—my friends and I—felt responsible, not for the situation but the response to the situation. How the matter was handled. We had a murder and an assault of the most appalling nature. We were on new ground, trying to deal with it. Do you see? I know the girl, especially, was a shock to you. Everyone was affected, like a death in the family. Thank
We don't belong there, my father said. All they care about is their country club and the commuter train. Bedroom towns.
Safe towns, my mother said.
My father thought it unseemly, the probate court judge living out of town.
Your cases come from all over the county, my mother said. What's the difference which town you live in?
The courthouse is here, my father said.
You have a car, my mother replied.
I like walking to work, my father said. Gives me a chance to think, stretch my legs. I notice things. Someone is building a tree house for his kid. Someone else has bought a new car. Dry Goods has a sale. I'll say hello to half a dozen people and I'll visit for a while, learn what's going on. And there's a lot more than you might think, quite a lot more. People have troubles and they tell me their troubles. Sometimes I can help. I know we have a placid surface here but that's all it is, a surface. What we read in the
World
is what Alfred Swan wants us to read, and that's all right. Alfred does his job as he sees fit. But there's a whole other life here, a civilization that's layered. And that's what I hear about on my walk to work and later in the courthouse. These things matter to me. They matter more than I can say. I was born here, grew up here, went to school here, practiced law here. Our friends are here. We've had a nice life here, you and I. Maybe the idea would be to get a new house, larger, with a better view of the lake. I've never lived anywhere else and never wanted to live anywhere else and that's why this is so damned hard for me, dear.
I'm not suggesting we move to California, my mother said. I'm proposing we move a few miles south. You'll still have your friends. You'll still know what's going on in New Jesper. They just won't live next door. Anyhow, maybe it's time to make new friends. The North Shore is—lovely.
We're too old to make new friends, my father said, an observation to which my mother did not reply.
You forget, Melody. I'm twenty years older than you are.
That's one of the things I'm thinking about. It's time for you to back off a little. Not work so hard. Take some time off.
It's giving up, my father said. You're throwing in the towel. You're surrendering to the barbarians.
They've won, my mother said.
I hate to believe that. I won't believe it.
Believe it, my mother said.
I see things from a different point of view, my father said. It's another way of life, being on the inside of things, and I feel responsible. I have a responsibility to New Jesper. I'm not sure you've ever understood that or appreciated it.
I understand more than you think, my mother said.
What I try to do is protect the reputation of the town, my father said. We're more than just the place where Walter Bing makes tennis rackets and it's sometimes seemed to me that everyone is trying to define us according to their own prejudices—big joke, Oh, you come from New Jesper, where they make the tennis rackets, ha-ha. My aim is that we define ourselves. No one does that for us. We have a fine town here. It's a—moral town. I think that all things considered we handled the bad situations pretty well. Things could have gotten out of hand. We avoided publicity. Speculation was at a minimum. You hardly hear anyone talk about it, or if they do talk about it, they talk about it in private. It's out of mind, as it should be. It's old news. We—my friends and I—felt responsible, not for the situation but the response to the situation. How the matter was handled. We had a murder and an assault of the most appalling nature. We were on new ground, trying to deal with it. Do you see? I know the girl, especially, was a shock to you. Everyone was affected, like a death in the family. Thank
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