And now, you may open the present that is the conclusion of...
***
The Strangers That Came to Town - Part Five
By Ambrose Flack
I could
tell that the Duvitches were a great revelation to Father and that he had
enjoyed the evening tremendously.
"To
think," he murmured as if talking to himself, while we were crossing the
street, "that they should turn out to be gentle people of cultivation and
accomplishment. Looked down on and ignored by their inferiors!"
I like
to believe that the oil paintings of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and
Thomas Jefferson, which hung in our living room, helped to establish the
Duvitches in our community. Even the fountain tinkling in the lily pool in our
garden might have helped. In that town, oil paintings and flowing fountains
were the symbols of wealth and aristocracy. Only a few mansions on Sycamore
Hill were adorned with such.
Because
our home was graced with these symbols, we had always been classified with the
town's great, which gave us such prestige in the neighborhood that people often
followed our lead.
Obviously the Duvitches were important in Father's eyes,
shown by the rigorous sentence he had imposed on Tom and me for our misuse of
them. Added to that, we had recognized the family by taking a meal with them in
their own house.
People,
often persuaded to accept what we accepted, to believe what we believed, began
to think the Duvitches must really count, after all. Most of our neighbors
decided that if they were good enough for a highly educated man like Father
(the only college graduate on Syringa Street), they were good enough for them.
The galvanized community began to look upon things in a different light and it
soon became the fashion to give the Duvitches the favorable nod.
Mother
invited Mrs. Duvitch to a tea party, where her delicate manners, and the fine
needlework which engaged her, won the approval of the local housewives who were
present.
On hot days our neighbor asked one of her big boys to carry the
pineapple plant (which Mother had advertised well) into the back yard; and
since botanical rarities were irresistible in that town of gardens, people were
soon stopping by the fence for a look at the tropical specimen.
After a
while Mrs. Duvitch found courage to ask these people into her house and, if Mr.
Duvitch was at home, he told the visitors stories about life in the old
country. It was then that the neighborhood learned about the family's European
past.
The
children ceased stopping their noses when Mr. Duvitch passed them by and it
wasn't long before the young Duvitches were able to enjoy outside companionship
when they found time to play. They blossomed out in school and they were soon
shining in school plays and festivals.
Even Kasimar began to take on the ways
of an American dog, daring to bark and growl on occasion.
Nathan
Duvitch, who was seventeen, could throw and hit a baseball as far as anybody
his age in town. When I learned this, and let it be known, he was asked to join
one of the local ball clubs. David, invited to play his accordion at a country dance, turned out to be a magician with the instrument and ended up being one of the community's most popular players.
Mrs. Frithjof Kinsella gave One-eyed Manny an after-school job in her store and later on told Mother he was worth three boys put together.
The
community presently had reason to be grateful for Mrs. Duvitch's presence. It
turned out that she had a great gift for nursing, and no fear of death, no fear
of disease, contagious or otherwise. In times of severe illness Dr. Switzer
often suggested that she be sent for--her own girls could take over at home.
There were almost no nurses in town and the nearest hospital was over a hundred
miles away. When Mrs. Duvitch quietly slipped into a sickroom, she never failed
to bring along a sedative influence, a kind of sanity. After an hour or two of
her serene presence, the patient was calmed and comforted and the family
reassured.
People
began to turn to the Duvitches in all kinds of trouble. A boy who got in a bad
scrape, a bitter family quarrel, a baby who had come into the world
deformed--the elder Duvitches, with their old-world wisdom and gift for
accepting the inevitable, could sit by the hour and argue gently and
convincingly against disgrace, false pride, grief, fear.
Most
surprising of all, Mr. Duvitch, in one respect, turned out to be
characteristically American. One Saturday afternoon when my ball team was
playing Nathan's, Father met him in the local ball park.
"Chust
like de American boy," Mr. Duvitch exploded when Nathan made a timely hit
that drove in two runs. Our neighbor choked with pride and went on:
"Nathan's battering averich three hunnert tventy-sevened!"
On a
cold snowy afternoon in winter Mr. Duvitch stopped at our house and presented
Father (who had enormous hands, much bigger than any of the Duvitches') with a
handsome pair of leather mittens, lined with fur, which had a slightly acrid
ashy odor.
"No doubt one of the boys resurrected them from a heap of ashes
in the dump," remarked Father, drawing on the mittens, which fitted
perfectly. "Why should I value them any the less? Who would have dreamed
that the Duvitches would have so much more to offer us than we have to offer
them?"
***
You know, I have to say, the last part of this story put me off a bit - the part about how the Duvitches recognized that they were leaders in their community because of their oil paintings and gardens - people respecting them for such trivial outward trinkets.
But have things really changed all that much, honestly?
How do we identify important people, if not by the car they drive, the suit they wear, or the MacBook they work on today?
So if we happen to enjoy these outward trappings, and other people look to us as an example, what a good example to take someone outside our social circle under our wing and let others learn who they really are.
Reminds me of a video I saw recently...
(Disclaimer - there's a certain amount of religious talk ahead, since this is a video my church put out, so if you don't like that kind of stuff, well... then you probably don't know me very well yet. But you're always welcome to learn. :-))
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