My guess is that it runs in the family.
B EN Well. Not really. He had several brothers and sisters and they've all been dead for years. For that matter all his children are dead except my father.
R EPORTER I asked him how his health was and he said it was fine and wanted to know how mine was. I thought at first he was being cantankerous but he really seemed to want to know. I wound up telling him about my eye operation.
Ben smiles. The reporter flips through his notebook and folds it away in his coat pocket. He holds out his hand.
R EPORTER Well, thank you. It was a great party.
B EN ( Shaking hands ) Thank you for coming.
The reporter has turned to leave and then looks back.
R EPORTER What is the trade? He mentioned a couple of times something about the trade.
B EN The stonemason's trade.
R EPORTER Ah. Of course. Got it.
The reporter raises a hand and exits from the kitchen. Ben goes to the window and looks out. The lights come on stage right where there are picnic tables covered with red crepe and there are lanterns and folding chairs and cups and plates and the remainders of Papaw's birthday party. A wind has come up and it is evening and the buntings strung across the yard sway in the wind and a few cups blow across the yard. Papaw is sitting alone at the tables, dressed in his black suit. His hat sits on the table beside him and he holds it with one hand against it being blown away. The lights have dimmed to black in the kitchen. The light comes on at the podium and Ben appears there.
B EN I'd pretend ignorance to get you to stay. If I thought you could be fooled. But only people with wants can be fooled and you have none.
Cups and leaves blow across the yard. The old man sits holding his hat. The light dims to black and the light comes up in the kitchen. It is night and Ben's double is sitting at the table. Ben continues to speak from the podium.
B EN He always said the trade. As if there were only the one. He didn't even call it masonry. Just called it the work. Called it the trade. Does call it. Does call it.
He—(Ben's double)—sips his tea.
B EN He was a journeyman mason for eighty odd years. Journeyman comes from the word for day, and a journey was originally a day's travel. He began to contract for himself before my father married and he and my father were in business together for thirty years and technically they are yet. But the rule of the journeyman is his rule even now and he has always quit at quitting time no matter where he was on the job. The wisdom of the journeyman is to work one day at a time and he always said that any job even if it took years was made up out of a day's work. Nothing more. Nothing less. That was hard for me to learn. I always wanted to be finished. In the concept of a day's work is rhythm and pace and wholeness. And truth and justice and peace of mind. You're smiling. I smile. But very often now the stones come to hand for me as they do for him. I don't think or select. I build. So I begin to live in the world. Nothing is ever finally arrived at. The journeyman becomes a master when he masters the journeyman's trade. He becomes a master when he ceases to wish to be one.
Ben folds shut his notebook and folds his hands in front of his chest.
B EN As for the rest. As for the rest. I know that evil exists. I think it is not selective but only opportunistic. I don't know where the spirit resides. I think in all things rather than none. My experience is very limited. But it is because of him that I am no longer reduced by these mysteries but rather am one more among them. His life is round and whole but it is not discrete. Because it is connected to a way of life which he exemplifies but which is not his invention. I know nothing of God. But I know that something knows. Something knows or else that old man could not know. Something knows and will tell you. It will tell you when you stop pretending that you know.
M AVEN ( Calling from downstairs ) Ben! Ben!
Ben looks up
B EN Well. Not really. He had several brothers and sisters and they've all been dead for years. For that matter all his children are dead except my father.
R EPORTER I asked him how his health was and he said it was fine and wanted to know how mine was. I thought at first he was being cantankerous but he really seemed to want to know. I wound up telling him about my eye operation.
Ben smiles. The reporter flips through his notebook and folds it away in his coat pocket. He holds out his hand.
R EPORTER Well, thank you. It was a great party.
B EN ( Shaking hands ) Thank you for coming.
The reporter has turned to leave and then looks back.
R EPORTER What is the trade? He mentioned a couple of times something about the trade.
B EN The stonemason's trade.
R EPORTER Ah. Of course. Got it.
The reporter raises a hand and exits from the kitchen. Ben goes to the window and looks out. The lights come on stage right where there are picnic tables covered with red crepe and there are lanterns and folding chairs and cups and plates and the remainders of Papaw's birthday party. A wind has come up and it is evening and the buntings strung across the yard sway in the wind and a few cups blow across the yard. Papaw is sitting alone at the tables, dressed in his black suit. His hat sits on the table beside him and he holds it with one hand against it being blown away. The lights have dimmed to black in the kitchen. The light comes on at the podium and Ben appears there.
B EN I'd pretend ignorance to get you to stay. If I thought you could be fooled. But only people with wants can be fooled and you have none.
Cups and leaves blow across the yard. The old man sits holding his hat. The light dims to black and the light comes up in the kitchen. It is night and Ben's double is sitting at the table. Ben continues to speak from the podium.
B EN He always said the trade. As if there were only the one. He didn't even call it masonry. Just called it the work. Called it the trade. Does call it. Does call it.
He—(Ben's double)—sips his tea.
B EN He was a journeyman mason for eighty odd years. Journeyman comes from the word for day, and a journey was originally a day's travel. He began to contract for himself before my father married and he and my father were in business together for thirty years and technically they are yet. But the rule of the journeyman is his rule even now and he has always quit at quitting time no matter where he was on the job. The wisdom of the journeyman is to work one day at a time and he always said that any job even if it took years was made up out of a day's work. Nothing more. Nothing less. That was hard for me to learn. I always wanted to be finished. In the concept of a day's work is rhythm and pace and wholeness. And truth and justice and peace of mind. You're smiling. I smile. But very often now the stones come to hand for me as they do for him. I don't think or select. I build. So I begin to live in the world. Nothing is ever finally arrived at. The journeyman becomes a master when he masters the journeyman's trade. He becomes a master when he ceases to wish to be one.
Ben folds shut his notebook and folds his hands in front of his chest.
B EN As for the rest. As for the rest. I know that evil exists. I think it is not selective but only opportunistic. I don't know where the spirit resides. I think in all things rather than none. My experience is very limited. But it is because of him that I am no longer reduced by these mysteries but rather am one more among them. His life is round and whole but it is not discrete. Because it is connected to a way of life which he exemplifies but which is not his invention. I know nothing of God. But I know that something knows. Something knows or else that old man could not know. Something knows and will tell you. It will tell you when you stop pretending that you know.
M AVEN ( Calling from downstairs ) Ben! Ben!
Ben looks up
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