Sailing to Portmanteaux
copyright 2010 by Solomon Daniel DeMontigny Everta
Notes on the performance of this production:
Actors portray multiple characters:
1st Man – Son, Nanabohzo, Michel, Professor, Papa
1st Woman – Mom
2nd Man – Dad, Kid
2nd Woman –Grandma, Tiger Lily, Angel, Sky Woman
3rd Man – Chief, Kitchi Manitou
In addition, there are “Spirits” dressed in black, ideally with black over their heads as well. Occasionally the Spirits will act as water spirits or fire spirits, wearing blue, white, and green fabric strips all over their bodies or yellow, orange, and red fabric strips all over their bodies. Alternately, large fabric props may be used to indicate an appropriately large amount of water or fire.
A large screen will be suspended behind the stage displaying videos, photographs, speech bubbles, quotes, and other images as noted. This needs to be an addition, not a distraction.
As the audience is being seated, a short movie on the Alcatraz occupation plays with no sound. As it ends, the sound returns with, “…Alcatraz remained Indian land until twenty armed federal marshals forcibly removed the fifteen remaining inhabitants on June 11, 1971…” and suddenly cuts off looking like the film broke or static interferes with no noise.
Son (crossing stage to stop down stage right, just in adult diaper, as lights come up) — …the day I was conceived.
Son (scratching behind, retrieves cigar from front of diaper) Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. (Puts cigar in mouth, lights and it explodes)– What are you laughing at? You think you know me? Just another white guy in a diaper… huh? (mumbling) sacred tobacco my a–
(Lights as if from a passing car come and then go by.)
Son (sticking out thumb) — Hey, can I get a ride, here? (as it passes) Come on! I’m just a baby, man. (despondent) I’m just a babyman. (another car passes) I was hitchhiking in diapers. I was smoking in the womb. If you think I’m looking for excuses, you may be right, but there’s one thing I know: It could’ve been a lot different … in a different place … with a different name. (car passes) Aw! Come on!… Anyway, this story’s not about me. It’s about this guy.
(Images follow on screen upstage. Image of Dad as baby).
Son — You never really think about your Dad as a kid, as a baby, until you have your own baby. Then there’s a chance to come together, for the cycle to become complete, for understanding… and forgiveness. There’s a chance… But I’m getting ahead of myself.
(image of Dad in uniform, Dad in the army, Dad in the yard, Dad holding Son).
Son — That’s better.
(image of portmanteau)
Son — Portmanteau is a French word meaning, literally, cloak carrier. (clothes fall from ceiling, Son puts them on) It is a two compartment container that folds together to make one suitcase. If you know about the portmanteau it’s probably because of Humpty Dumpty.
(on screen: “You see it’s like a portmanteau — there are two meanings packed up into one word.” – Humpty Dumpty)
Son — Sure, the French don’t use the word in this way, but in English that’s what we say now, thanks to Humpty Carroll. Well, in this (portmanteau drops into Son’s hands) portmanteau I picked up from my Dad (opening) I’ve got French
(image of Courier de Bois)
Son — and Indian,
(image of Native)
Son — uh Native American, but really how much can you learn about your father every other weekend? … Why every other weekend? Well… They got a divorce…
(Fourteen Spirits dance in with suitcases, leaving them littered about the stage)
Son — Packed up every other weekend and part time papa passed on the popcorn popping. … There I was at grandma’s…
(lighting change — James Brown’s Mother Popcorn plays in the background)
Son (trying different ways to place the suitcase to stand on after each sentence) — It was my birthday. No. It was my brother’s birthday. His first birthday. I mean the day of his birth. The day he was born. (now standing with knees on suitcase) Dad wasn’t with Mom, but I wasn’t with Dad. I was in my grandma’s kitchen… making popcorn.
Grandma (on trapeze) — You put the oil in the pan; you put in a few kernels; you turn up the heat… and you wait. … You must be patient. (popping sound)
Son (in child’s voice) — I heard a POP POP POP!
Grandma — That’s why we call it POPcorn.
Son (in adult voice) — There is a story that the Indians, uh, Native Americans tell about popcorn. It goes–
Grandma — like this… (Son meanwhile performs dance) Inside every kernel of popcorn is a little demon, uh, man that lives peacefully, waiting to grow into a full stalk of corn, but when agitated, angered, heated up, just explodes from the inside out! He never gets to grow up; he just blows up. And so that’s why men are so quiet and reserved, keeping their anger in check so they don’t blow up–
Son — Wait a minute! Men aren’t quiet and reserved. Men get to say whatever they want and keep women from talking. Men are loud and rude and —
Grandma — Those are the ones who couldn’t keep quiet. They’ve exploded.
Son — What? Most men are noisy!
Grandma — Most men are inside out. They’re done.
Son — So that’s it?
Grandma — They’re popped.
Son — they’re finished?
Grandma — it’s over.
Son — then what?
Grandma — if you pour some butter and salt on them, then they’re okay
Son — butter?
Grandma — or caramel
Son — caramel?
Grandma — sweeten them up… but they’ll never grow up and reach for the sun transforming and completing the cycle of–
Son — No. (music cuts off)
Grandma — what?
Son — No. there’s got to be a better answer somewhere. (opening suitcases)
Grandma — I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
Son opens illuminated suitcase, pulls out paper, closes suitcase and reads as Mom and Dad enter to act out silently. Grandma swings on trapeze upstage right. –
Son (reading) — The baby is crying again. The night is so hot. And I don’t know what to do. His father, my husband, the man who loves me is screaming,
Dad — Just shut him up. I can’t take it anymore. Can’t you do something?
Son (reading) — I have been doing something. Bouncing him, nursing him, walking with him. He is so beautiful. His eyes are just like his father, my husband, the man who loves me. They were both so quiet, both fell asleep. The baby slept in the crib in the bedroom. His father, my husband, the man who loves me slept on the couch in the other room, the only other room. He hasn’t been able to sleep like this, so calmly. He hasn’t been able to sleep like this, so peacefully. Most nights the dreams awake him. He leaps up in terror out of the bed, screaming, crying, remembering the helicopters, the guns, the cannon he shot, the explosions, the jungle, the heat, the faces of the men dying, the tears, the tears roll down his face. I try to talk to him, to love him, to listen, but he is silent like the space between words. I see the look in his eyes, his eyes that look like my baby’s, but there’s fear, disbelief, distrust. I don’t know why. I don’t know anything, but that I love my baby, I love my husband and now they’re sleeping. Both of them are sleeping. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I smoke one cigarette in the dark and as I’m about to put it out… The baby is crying again. The night is so hot. And I don’t know what to do. His father, my husband, the man who loves me is screaming,
Dad — Just shut him up. I can’t take it anymore. Can’t you do something? What have you been doing?
Son (reading) — And then his father, my husband, the man who loves me raises his hand in the air. It all seems so slow. Then suddenly fast as he slaps me. (Silence and stillness as cigarette falls to the floor in slow motion guided by Spirits, as hand is cocked back, then back to full speed, then silence and stillness) He looks at me with the eyes of my baby, closes them, and turns to the wall. And he is silent again like the space between words. I pick up the baby, just in his diaper, and run out the door, crying… I’ll hitchhike to Mom’s house tonight. The baby is crying again. The night is so hot. And I don’t know what to do.
(Son looks up, puts paper back in suitcase as 50 bright red, yellow, and orange fabric clad Fire Spirits slowly emerge and spread from point where cigarette dropped)
Son — How could this be? I’ve got to find out for myself… Mom, I’m going to live with dad.
Mom — What? Why? What did I do?
Son — Mom, it’s not about you. I told you. This story is not about you. I love you Mom, but it’s not about you. It’s not about me.
(Fire Spirits surround them. Son wills flames down with hands extended as Mom is lifted up and off by regular black clad Spirits)
Son — It’s about this guy.
(Dad turns from wall, eyes still closed, and is lifted up as blue, green, and white fabric clad Water Spirits spill out like a fountain, smothering Fire Spirits)
Son — Dad…? Dad…!
(Son runs up into the Water Spirits but is swept away as Dad is carried in opposite direction. All exit to sounds of waves.)
(Video of Kids Songs about Indians with images of Kids Books about Indians)
What makes the red man red? From Disney’s Peter Pan
Ten Little Indians with You Tube Video
I Am Red Man (have not found this yet. It was a camp song)
Son pulls rabbit ears from suitcase to assume the character of Nanabohzo. He hands single feather headband from another suitcase to Grandma as she assumes the character of Tiger Lily. Spirits guide puppets of all the animals who appear in the next scene. Sounds of waves resume as they find their positions.
Tiger Lily (from trapeze)– Nanabohzo, The Great Hare, gathered all the animals aboard a raft as the flood waters rose. After a great long while Nanabohzo realized that a place would be needed for all the animals to live, so he said…
Nanabohzo — With just the smallest seed I will create a place for all of us to live happily ever after.
(animals cheer)
Tiger Lily — But Nanabohzo needed a volunteer to dive down into the water.
Nanabohzo — Who will be the first to dive?
(animals look nervous and huddle up, pushing Beaver forward)
Nanabohzo — Beaver!
Beaver (looking around nervously) — Who me?
Nanabohzo — Beaver. You are an excellent diver. We are in awe of your skill.
Beaver — Aw, shucks…
Nanabohzo — and so you shall be our champion.
Beaver — *gulp*
Tiger Lily — And so Beaver dove into the water to search for a piece of earth. Down he went and searched and searched, father and farther down until he could not take it anymore and up he came, barely alive, paws clenched tight. The others lifted him onto the raft and pulled open his paws, one at a time and found… nothing, nothing, nothing, and nothing.
Nanabohzo — Who will be the next to dive?
(animals look nervous and huddle up, pushing Loon forward)
Nanabohzo — Loon!
Loon (looking around nervously) — Who me?
Nanabohzo — Loon. You are a superb diver. We are amazed by your skill.
Loon — Well, golly…
Nanabohzo — and so you shall be our champion.
Loon — *gulp*
Tiger Lily — And so Loon dove into the water to search for a piece of earth. Down he went and searched and searched, father and farther down until he could barely see the light above. Then up he came, barely alive, Claws clenched tight. The others lifted him onto the raft and pulled open his claws, one at a time and found… nothing, nothing, nothing, and nothing.
Nanabohzo — Who will be the next to dive?
(animals look nervous and huddle up; slowly Muskrat raises her paw)
Nanabohzo — Muskrat?!
Muskrat — Yes, sir…
Nanabohzo — Muskrat. You are a skilled diver, but this is a daring task not to be taken lightly. You can ask Beaver and Loon…
(Beaver and Loon nod their heads)
Nanabohzo — Muskrat. Are you certain you are up to the task?
Muskrat — I will give my best effort, Nanabush.
Nanabohzo — Muskrat. You are a brave diver we are in humbled by your courage.
Muskrat — Miigwich.
(“Thank you.” in speech bubble on screen above)
Nanabohzo — and so you shall be our champion.
(Muskrat places hands together in front of heart.)
Tiger Lily — And so Muskrat dove into the water to search for a piece of earth. Down she went and searched and searched, father and farther down until she was in complete darkness… She was underwater for much longer than the others. They almost gave up hope when up she came, almost dead, paws clenched tight. The others lifted her onto the raft and pulled open her paws, one at a time and found… nothing, nothing, nothing, and… one kernel of popcorn.
Nanabohzo — Very good.
(Nanabohzo blows life back into Muskrat.)
Nanabohzo — We appreciate the efforts of Beaver and Loon but the bravery of Muskrat shall be remembered for all time.
(Nanabohzo places kernel of popcorn in front of himself at chest level. Sound of sword being unsheathed)
Tiger Lily — Nanabohzo took the kernel of popcorn and began to turn it around. (Nanabohzo stands behind the kernel of popcorn as a sharply focused spotlight points directly down) And as it spun, it grew larger and larger until it was large enough to provide a home for all the animals on the raft, floating on the water. (spotlight widens as he spins it from a distance with his hands. Sound of spinning tube waxing and waning into swishing water sounds)
Tiger Lily — And this is how Nanabohzo recreated the world after the Great Serpent flooded it, trying to kill Nanabohzo. You still sit upon that raft now and sometimes you can feel it move. Can you feel it?
Pigeon (entering hurriedly) – Am I too late?
Nanabohzo – This isn’t your story, Pigeon.
Pigeon – Oh, yeah?
Nanabohzo – Yeah.
Pigeon – We’ll see about that…
Nanabohzo (amused) – We’ll see.
Pigeon (exiting) – And my name is Dove.
Nanabohzo (laughing) – Whatever you say…
Pigeon (exiting) – Get it right!
(Nanabohzo takes fringe coat from suitcase to become Coureur de Bois “Michel”)
Tiger Lily — At the tone the time will be infinity… exactly… *BEEP*
(Michel paddles in portmanteau as a canoe)
Michel (reading from book) Each man calls barbarism what is not his own practice for indeed it seems we have no other test of truth and reason than the example and pattern of the opinions and customs of the country we live in.
Michel looks up to the sky. Next scene should be played big and cheesy, like a made for TV afterschool special. Michel is slid over by Spirits to bump into Chief and Tiger Lily.
Michel — What? I discovered America!… oh… uh… I… no… I’m a fur trader. Right… a French (fake French accent ensues) fur trader. Oh-ho! Oh! Hi! (overly friendly, shaking hands with Chief) I’m Michel. Nice to meet you and your wife, uh, daughter… niece…? um… (back to American accent) So… you lived here long?
Chief (holding up hand, frowning) — How!
(pause)
Michel (imitating chief) — How!
(Michel tries to look tough, but then smiles plaintively)
Chief (scowling, then smiling) — I’m just messin’ with you, dude. We say Booshoo. Like Nanabohzo, the great white rabbit. You ever heard of him?
Michel — Uh… can’t say as I have…
Chief — English, eh?
Michel (heavy fake French accent) — French.
Chief (imitating accent)– French?
Michel — Yeah. (indicating audience) These Americans don’t speak French.
(Courier de Bois on screen with speech bubble of “French”)
Chief – They don’t speak Anishinaabemowin either.
(Native on screen with speech bubble of “Anishinaabemowin”)
(silence)
Michel — So… you seen any beavers around?
Chief — right…
Michel — not that I’m not interested in your people’s culture–
Chief — your people?
Michel — awkward…
Chief — Look man. You have no idea where you are. Why don’t you come over to our place and have dinner?
Michel — That’s mighty white of you — I mean mighty nice of you… uh, yeah…
(Chief leads to stage right. Tiger Lily walks behind, looking back at Michel.)
Tiger Lily (lifting head as if to say what’s up?) — Hey.
Michel — What’s up?
Tiger Lily — The sky.
(Michel smiles.)
(They sit around campfire)
Chief — Listen, why don’t you guys talk? I’ve got to check on something? (exits)
(silence)
Michel — awkward…
Tiger Lily — So… What were you reading?
Michel — Montaigne.
Tiger Lily — Isn’t that French for mountain?
Michel – Yeah, kind of.
Tiger Lily — That’s funny.
Michel — Why?
Tiger Lily — We’re in the mountains. The Turtle Mountains.
Michel — Thanks. I wasn’t sure where I stood.
Tiger Lily — Where are you from?
Michel — The mountains.
Tiger Lily — What mountains?
Michel — The mountains in France — but I’m not going back there.
Tiger Lily — Okay… So, what’s your name?
Michel — Michel. But I don’t like my name.
Tiger Lily — Why? That’s a cool name. It means “Who is like God” in Hebrew, right?
Michel — Who is like God?
Tiger Lily — That’s what I said.
Michel — Uh, it’s a question.
Tiger Lily — What’s the answer then?
Michel — Nobody is.
Tiger Lily — Hmm.
Michel — What?
Tiger Lily — You’ve got a lot to learn.
Michel (smiling) — Like what?
Tiger Lily — Have you ever heard of the Thunderbird?
Michel – The what?
Tiger Lily — Just listen. There were seven original spirits that came from the waters to teach us the way to live, the way of the heart. Each had an animal totem which our people still use today to represent our clan. Problem was that the Thunderbird always had to keep his eyes closed.
Michel – Why’s that?
Tiger Lily – When he looked at the people they died.
Michel – Oh. I see.
Tiger Lily – Not if you look at them you won’t! So the other spirits convinced the Thunderbird to return to the waters, but when the wind blows and the thunder sounds, you know the Thunderbird is flying.
Michel – What do I do then?
Tiger Lily – Give thanks, make offerings, don’t fight it.
Michel – I’ll keep that in mind…
Tiger Lily — Your name isn’t really Michel is it?
Michel — How did you know that?
Tiger Lily — silly boy.
Michel — What’s your name?
Tiger Lily — Tiger Lily.
Michel — How did you get that name?
Tiger Lily — I don’t want to talk about it.
Michel — Okay…
(silence)
Tiger Lily — You can be Michel. Michel DeMontagne…
(“DeMontagne” on screen.)
Tiger Lily — Mountain Mike. Because you are from the mountains.
Michel — And I live in the mountains now.
Tiger Lily — You do?
Michel — Yep. Michel DeMontaigne
(“DeMontagne” on screen changes to “DeMontaigne”.)
Tiger Lily — And so do I. Maybe my name could be DeMontigny, too.
(“DeMontaigne” on screen changes to “DeMontigny”.)
Michel — Oh could it?
(they kiss)
Michel — Aren’t you Chippewa?
Tiger Lily — We are Anishinabe, sometimes called Ojibway. Chippewa means puckered, like the puckered seam on a moccasin.
Michel — That’s funny.
Tiger Lily — Why?
Michel — We’re puckering now. To kiss again.
Tiger Lily — Thanks. I wasn’t sure where I stood.
(they kiss again)
Chief (stops as he enters and gasps) — Awkward…
(light shift. Music begins “Roll ’em Pete” by Count Basie and Joe Williams fades down to background in following scene)
Chief — Many moons passed and Michel did learn a lot. His greatest lesson? Becoming a father. Nothing teaches you more than that — let me tell you. Until one day… (Chief exits)
Tiger Lily — Mike, hold the baby. I’ve got to go down to the river to wash my hair.
Michel — But I was going to–
Tiger Lily — Mike…
Michel — Tiger Lily…
Tiger Lily — Do you remember how much I love you?
Michel — As much as I love you?
Tiger Lily — Oh, much more.
Michel — Go on.
Tiger Lily — Thanks, hon. I won’t but be a minute.
Michel (dramatically) — It will be an eternity.
Tiger Lily — Oh stop it.
(Tiger Lily exits)
Michel (to baby) — I don’t know why your Momma is named Tiger Lily because she is such a fox.
(Music stops. Gunfire. Michel ducks, runs around holding the crying baby.)
Tiger Lily (stumbling in) — Michel… the baby…
Michel — oh my god! mon dieu! my god!
Tiger Lily — Michel… shut up. I’m dying.
Michel –– No. (gunfire) Stop it! Stop it!
Tiger Lily — Michel. The baby. Take him to Disneyland.
Michel — What?
Tiger Lily — Take him to Disneyland to see the Thunderbird. I never got to go.
(Tiger Lily dies)
Michel — No!
(Michel embraces her and lays her body on the ground. Michel stands.)
Chief (entering with gun) — They surprised us Mike. We thought they were our friends… Why do you have the baby? Where’s Tiger Lily? And why am I talking like I’m in an action movie?
Michel (grabbing the gun) — She’s dead. Take the baby.
Chief — Where are you going.
Michel — I’m going to back to college… uh, I’m going to war, to peace, to pieces. I’m going to Disneyland. Oh, I don’t know! (They run in different directions, Chief exiting)
(lighting change)
(Michel stopped while running by Spirits. Moves into slow motion and slipped out of fringe coat and coonskin cap and into lab coat while table with hot plate, pot, popcorn, oil, salt, and potholders are set up)
(During the following monologue, popcorn is popped in large pan. Once corn begins popping in earnest, lid is taken off absentmindedly so that popcorn flies all over stage as intensity of lecture rises.)
Professor — Zea Mays Everta is the scientific name for the plant commonly known as popcorn. The genus zea is derived as a term from “teosinte” which accompanied the first Guatemalan accession, from the Mexican Spanish form of the Nahuatl words teōcintli which comes from teōtl meaning god and cintli meaning dried ears of maize. Maize is the only domesticated taxon in the genus zea, and derives its name from the Spanish form of the indigenous word for the plant, maíz. These people who Christopher Columbus met on his first voyage called themselves Taino, which means “good” or “noble,” in order to distinguish themselves from their neighbors, the Island Caribs, thought of as “not good” or “not noble.” Unfortunately for the over 30,000 Taino living on the island at the time, they had no idea what a really bad people were, but were about to find out as one of the only true genocides in known history took place over the next hundred years, killing every last one of the men, women and children living on the island. Columbus thought he was in India, so he called the people there “Indians.” There is no record as to whether he ate any popcorn. Similarly, corn is often thought of as a vegetable when more precisely it is a grain or fruit of a grass, or rather, one of the family Poaceae or “true grasses” as opposed to the “imitation grasses” called the graminoids which includes the water chestnut, papyrus sedge, and brown bog rush. Strangely, the word corn is actually an old European term meaning any grain that is plentiful in an area, thus in the The United States of America, maize is corn, and in the rest of the world, maize is maize and corn is whatever they’ve got a lot of…The indians had a lot of corn, but what we call indian corn are the colorful ears that we like to decorate with during Thanksgiving time when we commemorate the first time the colonizers sat down with the colonized to begin the process of taking their land and destroying their cultures. Actually, just a few days after landing somewhere near Plymouth Rock, a Captain Myles Standish led a group down a Nauset trail and discovered an iron kettle and a cache of Indian corn buried in the sand. (Lid should come off about here) They plundered the corn and returned a few days later with more men. They discovered ten bushels of corn and took them. They also discovered two Indian homes and according to the colonists “some of the best things we took away with us.” They also discovered several graves and to quote the colonists “brought sundry of the prettiest things away” from a child’s grave and then covered up the corpse…Happy Thanksgiving… By the way, there was no popcorn in Plymouth at the time. (taking off labcoat and placing it in portmanteau) That they ate popcorn there is a myth. But that’s really all we have, isn’t it? Myth.
(Spirits remove Lab Coat and cooking equipment)
Son (cleaning up popcorn and stacking suitcases) — All we have is myth. Because we never went back to the place where those two cultures met. Because I would ask Dad about going back to North Dakota when I was a child, when I was a teenager, when I was a man. He’d say,
Dad (who has wandered in turns to different directions in different lighting) — There’s nothing to see there. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing there.
Son — And so all I have to say about where we come from is stories, imagined myths with no past, and questions… (Dad pulls out mickey mouse ears from suitcase and places them on Son’s head) like “Why was he so focused on us going to Disneyland?” The thing I do know is that he quit his job building radar systems for planes to become a janitor (waves hand as popcorn is picked up by Spirits and Dad joins right in with them) and that he wanted to move to Florida and work as a janitor (waves hand as popcorn is picked up by Spirits and Dad again) at Disneyworld when my step-mom retired. (begins stacking suitcases) But really, how happy could you be cleaning up after everybody at the happiest place on earth? (Spirits lift Dad up and out as Son looks up at mouse ears with realization then speaks in kid voice while rearranging suitcases in play) When Dad was a kid, like me, he didn’t have much. He was one of seven kids. (seven suitcases stacked) His dad was a drunk Indian! (drunkenly knocks over suitcases) I met my grandpa once. At least I got to meet him once… Here’s the picture. (picture with Emil) Anyways, my grandma had her hands full with five boys and two girls. All the kids had nicknames: Walter was Penrod, Horace was Tippy, Emil was Junior, Betty was Chic, Judith was Fifi, Arthur was Art — okay that’s not really a nickname, it’s an abbreviation but anyways — all of them had nicknames, except my Dad. He had no nickname and he had no middle name. No middle name! Can you believe it? How can you go on living with no middle name? Grandma had a cool name — Doveline. Maybe that’s why Dad kept pigeons in our back yard in a pigeon coop. Because pigeons are also called Rock Doves. And grandma was named Doveline… I know he loved grandma… We would take the grandmas, the dovelines, the pigeons out in a special suitcase and drive far away from our house and stop out in the middle of nowhere. As they jumped out of the suitcase, the beating of their wings sounding like popcorn popping, my brother and I would yell out CONTACT!! because that’s what airplanes say when they take off flying and pigeons fly like airplanes… (flies around) And they would always find their way back home. My first trip on an airplane was to Disneyland! We stayed in a hotel and rode on the monorail and everything! Dad said he had always wanted to go, but could never go when he was a kid. He just caught pigeons and took care of them. And he took care of us… (puts on basketball jersey from portmanteau and continues in adult voice) As I grew up Dad did all kinds of nice stuff for us. We went on bike rides. (bicycle brought underneath by spirits and ridden on briefly) We watched fireworks on the fourth of July. (fire spirits dance by) He loaded up the newspapers (newspapers handed to Son as he throws them into the audience) in the back of the truck and drove me through my route when the bundles were delivered late and I just figured I’d give up. But he wouldn’t let me give up. He helped me find a way to make it work. He drove the truck and I tossed the papers out from the back of the truck. It was actually pretty cool that he did that. We shot arrows from bows (bow and arrows brought to Son who almost shoot the audience as a Spirit grabs the arrow away) and went camping in Yosemite. (pulling out sports equipment) He took us out on weekends to play basketball, tennis, baseball, golf, and football. I felt like he was happy to see us… One day we went to his brother’s house, our Uncle Penrod. Now Penrod was a mechanical guy and we would joke about how he would fix cars with bubble gum and bandaids. He had a style all his own, combed black hair that always looked like it was wet. My brother would later describe it as soaked in 30 weight motor oil. It was always cool to go over to his house. He had a respect for his heritage that I never really noticed in Dad. Later I would learn that he would take his kids back to North Dakota in the summers. I’ve still never been there… He had a racing boat with a drawing of an Indian on it. He had an Indian on the sign at an autoshop he had for awhile. He had a large framed photo of an Indian Chief in his garage and I remember as a kid asking, “Who is that?” And he said, “That’s your great-great-great-great grandfather!” and let out this belly laugh that tore into the room with a warmness that made you feel happy and thankful at the same time. (Dad laughs heartily in the background) My dad would laugh like that, too, but much less often. My brother and I would call them the Flintstones because their laugh was like Fred Flintstone’s laugh. They had the right body shape in middle age and Penrod’s hair was coal black, just like a cartoon.
(light change)
Later, after I moved in with my Dad and step-mom and they had moved out to the valley, my Uncle ended up living nearby, so we visited to have some pizza and watch some football. The game was good, the food was good, and we were just having a good time. Halftime. A news clip for the full story after the game.
(silence. slideshow plays as next segment spoken – flashing images to heart beats)
The Chinese government was shutting down the peaceful protestors (protestors) in Tiananmen Square. (tanks) Kids not much older than me (flags) were out in the street (Mao) demanding the right to assemble, (the crowd in the square) to vote, (American voting booth) to control their destiny. (protestors’ Lady Liberty Statue) A brutal regime clamping down on dissent (Coca-Cola) while we sat there (lone tank protestor) and watched, (American Statue of Liberty) with sodas (lone tank protestor) and our Mountain Mike’s pizza (Mountain Mike’s Pizza logo) in our hands. (lone tank protestor, lone tank protestor zoomed in closer, and closer, and closer, and dark to the sound of machine gun firing)
(lights change back)
We all sat in silence while the announcer, unaware of this history, rattled on about the battle we were witnessing tonight “on the gridiron… The blood, sweat, and tears…The agony…” Uncle Penrod took a deep breath and we looked to him for some sense of things. Dad just sat there with a silence like the space between words. Yeah… that’s sad, he said. And as he spoke I saw the lines on his face deeper than before, as he said, that’s awful… this man who had been born on the reservation, grew up in the poverty of Native America, sent to a boarding school for Indians, cut from his culture, realizing the full force of oppression and racism and power on the lives of the underprivileged spoke a few final words – those poor kids… those poor little Chinks. (verbalized sound of machine gun firing while making a shooting motion with whole body and then a big Flintsone laugh) yeah. I think I understood the way we cover up our emotions that night. Dad never did share much of his feelings, but he had a similar, if not so expressive, sense of humor. When I graduated from high school the next Spring, I surprised him and I surprised myself as I felt the awkwardness of commencement wearing off, surrounded by my family (Spirits stand around Son), my Mom, my step-dad, my step-mom, my brother, my exgirlfriend, my grandma, Doveline, all the others, my friends, and Dad. I don’t really remember the others on that field. I just remember this:
(Graduation picture with Dad)
I had turned around wondering What Now? a few times and then there he was. And I hugged him and I cried into his shoulder, knowing in some way that over half of our time together in this world had passed. Then I moved out.
(light change)
I saw him rarely until the next graduation, thirteen years later, and I wonder now if he was coming there for another hug, another connection, but I was my own man now and I literally drove away from that next graduation off into the Great Plains, but not to North Dakota, to get married. He would follow a few weeks later for the ceremony.
(light change)
I had noticed at the graduation that he had started smoking again. And now I look back and think it was a sign that he had already given up. As if he didn’t care anymore. If we failed to connect at the graduation, I pushed him away at the wedding. Not with anything direct, or even intentional… I changed my name. I left behind DeMontigny and I changed my name to a new, chosen name: Everta, the scientific name for turning inside out. Like Zea Mays Everta, the Latin name for Popcorn. It was a new beginning for me. I was my own man. The past was left behind and I didn’t care about him. I didn’t care for him. I didn’t warn him. He was there and heard it along with everyone else as the Justice of the Peace spoke this new truth. At the reception he would say,
Dad — Everta, huh?
Son — and I would say, Yeah, I thought I had talked to you about that. But we never were very talkative… and now I was my own man.
(Dad wanders about stage wounded by each phrase.)
Son — The next few years, he would watch his brother die from prostate cancer, his mother-in-law lost to dementia, as he cared for her up to her death. And then his mother died. But I know it was the name change that began to turn him… inside out…
(lightning flash. Son pulls out garbage bag, puts on as poncho. Looks up for rain. Sound of rain lightly.)
Son – Dad. Let’s get out of here.
Dad – No. I need to go.
Son – That’s what I said, let’s get out of here.
(Click of fan. One plastic bag floats onto stage. Dad chases after it. He catches it.
Dad – No. I just need to take care of this.
(Another bag appears. Chase. Catch. Another.)
Son – No you don’t. Come on! Let’s go!
(Then another. Not able to catch them.)
Dad – It will never end. It will never end…
(Building anxiety. Then frantic.)
Son – What are you saying?
(Bags fly on more and more quickly… lightning. Thunder.)
Son (turned around, searching in the darkness) – Where are you?
(Moving spotlight in the shape of the Thunderbird.)
Dad — …thunderbird… Thunderbird!… THUNDERBIRD!!
(Arms outstretched. Scream. Fans all off. Arms outstretched in silence. Silence. All bags still. Only the sound of breath. Light fades. Almost dark. Falls to seated. Lightning crack with bright, still Thunderbird spotlight. Crying. Pulls out plastic bag from portmanteau. Places over head. Light fades to crying sobbing in darkness…)
Son – No, Dad! No! Don’t leave!
(Stars emerge in the darkness. Twinkling chimes far away. Sound of ocean gently lapping. Angel alights with huge, dark, star-filled wings. Son lies in position where Dad was last.)
Angel — Take off your cloak. Put it in here… (places plastic garbage bag cloak in portmanteau) Your father is dead.
Son — What?
Angel — He put a plastic bag over his head.
Son — Why?
Angel — There is no answer.
Son (angry) — Why?
Angel — There is no answer.
Son (attacking Angel) — Why?
Angel (stops him, hands clasped) — There is…
Together – no!… answer!
(they wrestle as they stand)
Son — It’s my fault… I broke his heart. I changed my name. I left him alone. He got sick. To his stomach, in his heart, in his mind. He watched his father-in-law die from lung cancer, his mother-in-law disappear into dementia, his brother, Uncle Penrod, die from prostate cancer, his step father died, his… Mother… died. Then I changed his name… I mean… my name.
Angel (struggling) — There is… no… answer.
Son – Bless… ME! There has to be a reason! Why? Why? Why… What is his legacy? What did he leave behind?
Angel — He left a note.
Son — What did it say?
Angel — I thought you appreciated me.
Son — I did. I did! I didn’t do enough!
Angel — Your stepmother and he argued about his work. And he drove off. (She throws him across the stage as Spirits lift him flying through the air and down)
Son — He drove off. (seated, play driving on the ground)
Angel — She thought he might be driving to the northeast, to the mountain top, to you. He drove to the southwest, to the ocean, to…the bottom.
Son — He drove the wrong way. (still driving, crying)
Angel (tenderly) — He cried and thought of his father, his mother, your mother, his wife, his sons — your brother… and you. (over to Son)
Son — He drove the wrong way. (Angel cradles Son)
Angel — He checked into a Holiday Inn.
Son — He worked at one of those.
Angel — That’s right.
Son — And he died there?
Angel — That’s right.
Son — He died there.
(as Spirits bring lighted tea cup from portmanteaux)
Angel — Here. Drink this…
Son — What is it?
Angel — It is your father’s love.
(Son drinks)
Angel — It always surrounds you. And it is a part of you.
(Son drinks)
Angel — Now sleep… sleep and dream…
(Son lies down as angel cradles head, then flies off)
(Spirits lift sleeping Son into chair at small table and set portmanteaux by his side. As he sleeps, they wash his face, hands, arms, feet. Spirits bring in Dad with eyes closed and set him in opposing chair, placing a plastic bag over his head. Son awakens sitting, looks over to Dad, and very casually reaches over and pokes hole in bag where mouth would be.)
Son — Hey, Dad. I’m glad you could make it… (Full movie proceeds during following monologue with images of La Petite Boulangerie logo, Pepe Le Pew, house splitting, Pepsi logo, Cowboy, map with bread sprouting up, serving legal papers/Mom wants the child support, Cash register cha-ching!/wedding bells, unserving lawsuit/oh nevermind, cookie monster, Cookie, La Petite Boulangerie logo while Dad is run through Dead Man routine by Spirits until the next action.) Here we are at La Petite Boulangerie. How appropriate. In the mall at a fake French bakery that starts as a two home, uh, two store business in the early 70’s that gets bought by PepsiCo in 1982 and is franchised throughout the West into over 100 locations. A big holder of the franchises sues Pepsi until it gets bought by Pepsi. Well, that’s one way to settle! But by that time the Boolanjeree had been bought by Mrs. Fields Original Cookies. Then five years later it’s sold again to InterWest Partners but then Java City bought it the next year. Java City in turn was purchased, but by that time La Petite Boulangerie was no more. C’est fini! (Dad slaps Son) I don’t know why I brought that up… maybe I should tell you what I’m really feeling. (Spirits guide Dad in nodding) So, I was reading this book about that French dude Sisyphus. Well, he wasn’t French. Camus was. Albert Camus. Anyway, he wrote a book about that guy Sisyphus. That ancient Greek legend guy who’s rolling a huge stone up a hill and it always rolls back down. And he always has to roll it up again. What a drag… or push? Or Nanabush. That’s another name for Nanabozo. How come you never told me about him? Did you know? I wish you had told me… but Montaigne says we’ve got to have no regrets, seek happiness, and transcend our fear of death because it is inevitable and once we are not distracted by all that, we can live in the present and love life? Is that what the Indians did on Turtle Mountain? Is that what we were supposed to do? Is that what you were supposed to do? (yelling) What have you been doing? Dad? … (now tenderly) Dad? Do you remember the time you showed me how to use the phone? We dialed Popcorn. And the lady’s voice spoke so pleasantly and calmly. I felt like I would always be safe because I could always dial popcorn and have that lady talk to me. And you showed that to me. You taught that to me. You loved me, Dad… And I love you, Dad. But they turned it off. There is no popcorn number any more. It’s done, Dad. They said they didn’t need it any more. But I do need you, Dad. What will I tell my kids, Dad? What will I show them of their story? Your story! The Popcorn Lady… (pulls bag off of Dad’s head) How can I imagine Sisyphus happy when he doesn’t have that lady’s voice anymore? Dad? Who was that lady, Dad? Dad? (Son closes eyes)
(Spirits lift Dad up, elevating him to relate story as it is acted out by Angel, former Chief as Kitchi Manitou, and Son)
Dad – Kitchi Manitou created the universe by imagining all that is possible and bringing it into being. He vanished and had a vision upon his return to Earth of creating one last creature with the greatest gift of all – the power to dream. He needed to pass on his essence directly since this new creature could dream… He ascended to the Moon, where Sky Woman lived. He asked if she would bear his essence, asked if she would join with him in creating an image of himself in the world, asked if she would love and nurture his children… She agreed. They danced across the sky and Sky Woman conceived that possibility within her. Kitchi Manitou left again and Sky Woman went down to Earth to prepare for the birth… She bent trees for a lodge, tanned hides to cover it, and dried meat for the winter. Word spread across the land that Sky Woman was carrying Manitou’s children. All the creatures were excited that Kitchi Manitou’s children would walk the Earth… all except the Water Manitous. They controlled the water, but feared that Kitchi Manitou’s children would diminish their power. Out of their fear came anger and from their anger came a flood, a great flood that covered the entire world… Sky Woman retreated to the Moon, but still Kitchi Manitou did not come to her… Alone, she cried, but did not fear. She had the awareness that her destiny is her own, so she made a plan. Seeing that the swimming creatures were still alive and free, she called out first to the giant turtle. He surfaced and she alighted on his back. The loon, the beaver, and the little muskrat joined her there. Then she said –
Sky Woman – I do not have the power of creation like Kitchi Manitou, but I am a woman. I have the power to recreate. But I cannot recreate the world by myself. I need your help. Bring me a handful of the original Earth made by Manitou. This soil will be the seed I use to recreate the World.
Dad – They all dove down deep into the water, one after the other, all day long. The only one who had not was little Muskrat. There is a reason. Muskrats never dive deep, they live on the edges of rivers and lakes, in the sloughs, never in the deep waters. But in everyone’s life there are moments, maybe just one moment, where you just have to give up your old story about what you can or cannot do. Sometimes you must escape your own story and become the full person you know you are. That day, long ago, Muskrat knew that he had to do this and make things right. (Dad is swallowed back into the water)
(Son, as Muskrat, dives off the back of Turtle and swims down, down, down in the arms of the Water Spirits for a long time until he reaches a portmanteau held by Spirits. He struggles, body upside down, pulling at the handle many different ways, struggling, pulling, straining, for a long time until he dies and is still in the water. He floats back up to the surface with the portmanteau clutched in his hand. The other animals lift him onto the back of the Great Turtle. Sky Woman opens his hand, taking the portmanteau. She opens it and popped popcorn spills out, all over the floor. She smiles. Spirits bring all the other items from all the other stories into the portmanteau. Sky Woman closes the portmanteau and sets it beside him. Sky Woman breathes life back into Son.)
Son — I’m alive. I am the Great White Rabbit.
Sky Woman (laughing lightly) — No. You are not Nanabozo who tried to steal my story – little trickster. And you are not my son. You are my great great great great grandson. (Dad laughing heartily in the background)You are not the reason, but you could be the hero.
Son — Like Muskrat?
Sky Woman — Like Muskrat. But moreover, like yourself. It’s your story.
Son – No, it’s my Dad’s story.
Sky Woman (a long, understanding, smiling silence) — Now it is your story.
Son – So, can you bring my Dad back to life?
Sky Woman — I brought you back to life.
Son — But I didn’t die.
Sky Woman — Yes… you did.
Son — I did?
Sky Woman — Silly boy.
Son — Silly man.
Sky Woman — Silly…
Son — So, you can bring my Dad back to life.
Sky Woman — No, little Muskrat, only you can.
Son — What do you mean?
Sky Woman (a long, understanding silence) — He will be reborn.
Son — No. In this world.
Sky Woman — He will be reborn… in this world. You will see.
Son — So, you can’t bring my Dad back to life?
Sky Woman – It was his time.
Son – But why?
Sky Woman – It’s not Columbus, nor Vietnam, nor argument, nor distance. It’s not any one thing, not even changing your name. There is no reason… to wish against his passing. It does no good… just cry… and say goodbye… He will always be with you. And his love will always surround you. (She flies off.)
(Son looks at Portmanteau.)
(child runs in and jumps up to Son, now Papa)
Kid — Papa!
Papa — My son! I love you.
Kid — Are you sad?
Papa — Yes, Sweetheart.
Kid — Why?
Papa — I miss your Grandpa Stanley.
Kid — Let’s go visit him.
Papa — We can’t, Honey.
Kid — Why?
Papa — Grandpa Stanley died before he could meet you or your brother.
Kid — Why?
Papa — There is no answer. (sets down kid)
Kid — You can tell me a story about him.
Papa — Yes, my big boy… Yes. I can. That way his love will always surround you. (picks up portmanteau)
Kid — What’s that Papa?
Papa – That’s yours. Yours and your brother’s.
Kid – But what is it?
Papa — It’s a portmanteau… It’s a portmanteau… (walking off, holding hands) Your Grandpa Stanley had no middle name. Did you know that?
(exit upstage center)
(on screen:)
Il n’y a point d’autre lumière, ny d’autre nuict. Ce Soleil, cette Lune, ces Estoilles, cette disposition c’est celle mesme que vos ayeuls ont jouye, et qui entretiendra vos arriere-nepveux…
(then added below)
There is no other light, no other shade; this very sun, this moon, these very stars, this very order and disposition of things, is the same your ancestors enjoyed, and that shall also entertain your posterity…
(then added above both)
Sky Woman took the soil that Muskrat retrieved and recreated the Earth on the back of the Giant Turtle. That is why we call the world Turtle Island. Kitchi Manitou did return and changed Sky Woman’s name to Nokomis – the Great Mother, creator of the Anishinabeg, the Good Beings. Their children’s children spread across the land changing their names as they went. Some are still changing their names to this day.
(then each line appearing after the one above)
In June of 2007 Solomon’s Father, Stanley DeMontigny, took his own life.
(picture of Dad)
In July of 2007 Solomon’s first son celebrated his first birthday.
He had never met his Grandpa Stanley, but his Baba, Solomon’s Step-father, was there.
(picture with Ali)
In August of 2010 Solomon’s second son celebrated his first birthday.
(picture with Ali)
In February of 2011 Solomon’s Step-Father Ali Modabber died after a two month struggle with pancreatic cancer.
(then)
Every showing of Sailing to Portmanteaux divides proceeds equally to the Woman’s Shelter, the Suicide Hotline, Hospice, and the Everta Boys College Fund.
(then)
THANK YOU.
(Muskrat Ramble plays with credits)
Solomon Everta 