Transcript: A Feeling Called Glory

Based on the book Presbyterian Crossing by Barbara Gowdy

Transcribed by Angela.
There might be some small errors in here because the file I used was low quality.

Shauna Kain - Beth
Colleen Rennison - Helen
Sheila Paterson - Beth's grandmother
Gabrielle Rose - Helen's mother Rose
Norman Armour - Beth's father Harold
Eileen Pedde - Narrator
Dianne Pink - Mrs Pink
Shae Popovich - Beth's grandmother aged 35
Harry Killas - Surgeon
Tasha Moth - Aunt Cora
Campbell Lane - Radio Announcer

Beth is floating in the air in front of the church. She drops when the door opens and children run out. She leaves with the rest of the children. Helen follows slowly down the steps.

The first time it happened was the day my mum left. I was on the church steps and when I looked up the walk I knew I'd floated down there. A couple of days later I floated down the basement stairs of our house. After a whole year of floating I finally confided in my grandmother about it.

Beth: You floated too?

Beth: When?

Beth: Twelve years ago?

Beth: Oh, you were twelve.

In the old days my grandmother and my great aunt, her fraternal sister Cora, were going to be big stars. Or so my aunt Cora said, as a professional singing team: the Carlyle Sisters. But it was a tragedy because just as they were on the verge of stardom my grandmother had her tonsils taken out by a quack who ripped out her vocal cords and the underside of her tongue. I secretly felt that even if my grandmother hadn't lost her voice she and my great aunt Cora would never have been big stars because they had hooked noses. What my great aunt Cora called 'Roman noses'.

I was eleven when my mum ran off with a man down the street who worked to pave the cul-de-sac in heated weather (?). It was then that my grandmother, my dad's mother came to live with us. My grandmother had arthritis in her thumb but she still drew faster than anyone I've ever seen. She always drew symbols for people instead of writing out their names or initials. My grandmother's symbol for my mum was a witch's hat.

I never knew what was on that piece of paper but shortly after that day my mum left. I wondered if my dad wished that I'd gone with her. If in fact I was supposed to have gone with her because when he came home from work the day she left and I was still there, he seemed surprised. Whenever I asked him when she was coming back, he always gave me the same answer.

Dad: Never. Your mother was too young to marry.

As Beth and her grandmother are walking to church Beth looks at a sign that says Presbyterian Crossing. She looks again and it changes to Pedestrian Crossing.

When the church was built within walking distance from our home my grandmother began to take me to Sunday school. She always counselled me by way of Biblical quotations and stories. She taught me sayings like 'We walk by faith' and stories about how Jesus let the little sparrow fall anyway (?). My Sunday school teacher Mrs Pink started every class by singing a hymn, specifically a hymn about Jesus wanting to hold children to his bosom which made me feel that there was something not right about Jesus and made me hold Mrs Pink responsible for the six months of anxiety that convinced me that I would end up in hell.

When I suddenly stopped floating that summer I relied on my faith for help.

Beth is sitting on the floor of her room.

Beth: I love Jesus. I love Jesus. (over and over)

I didn't expect to feel earthly love. I awaited the feeling called glory. Whenever I floated I said to myself 'This is glory.' But by the middle of summer vacation I hadn't floated in almost five weeks.

Beth watches a boy ride down the street with his hands in the air.

Beth: I'm going to the park. I need to float.

Beth is lying on a table in the park.

Beth: I love Jesus. I love Jesus. (over and over)

Helen: He's almost dead. A boy was run over by a car.

Beth: Who?

Helen: I don't know his name. Nobody did. He's about eight. He's got red hair. The car ran over his leg and his back. I shouldn't walk so fast. My cranium veins are throbbing.

Beth: When did it happen?

Helen: You missed the whole thing. On Glenmore in front of the post office. There's nothing there now. You missed it. Everything's gone. He was on a bike. And the lady said that the car skidded on water and knocked him down and ran over him twice. Once with the front tire and once with the back one. I got there before the ambulance. He probably won't live. You could tell by his eyes. His eyes were glazed.

Beth: That's awful.

Helen: Yeah. It really was. He's not the first person I've seen nearly die though. My aunt nearly drowned in her bathtub while she was staying at our house. She became a human vegetable.

Beth: Was the boy bleeding?

Helen: Mm-hmm. There was blood everywhere. He'll probably die. I'm going to die soon. You probably know that I have water on the brain.

Helen: That boy … He had, I think it was a rib sticking out of his back.

Beth: Who told you you were going to die?

Helen: The doctors.

Beth: Who else? What exactly did they say?

Helen: Well, more and more water keeps dripping all the time and one day there'll be so much water that my brain will literally drown in it. Water is one of the most destructive forces known to mankind.

Beth: They told you you were gonna die?

Helen: Well, not exactly. What they tell you is that you're not gonna live. You know that boy? I think it must have been a rib sticking out of his back. It was hard to tell because of all the blood. A man from the post office came and hosed it down the sewer but some of it had already caked from the sun. The driver was an old man. He started to cry uncontrollably.

Beth: Anybody would cry.

Helen: At least I'll die in one piece.

Beth: Can't they do anything to stop the water from dripping in?

Helen: Nope.

Beth: Every night you closed your eyes and chanted 'Water go away, water go away' maybe it would start to. And then your head would shrink up.

Helen: Somehow I doubt it.

Helen: I'm thirsty. I've had a big shock today. I'm going home for some lemonade.

At Helen's house.  There's a sign on the door saying 'No solicitors.'

Helen: My father's a solicitor. Darn this door is stuck. I'm home!

Helen's Mum: Hello! Whoo, who's this lump of potatoes?

Helen: A boy got run over on Glenmore.

Helen's Mum: Well, um, hello …

Beth: Beth. I didn't see it.

Helen: We're dying of thirst. We want lemonade in my room.

Helen's Mum: Two lemonades coming right up.

In Helen's room.

Beth: What's that suitcase for?

Helen: It's my hospital suitcase. It's all packed for an emergency.

Beth looks over at a chart on the wall.

Helen: My bodily functions chart. We're keeping track each week because they say things change before they completely stop. We're conducting an experiment.

Beth: When are you gonna die?

Helen: There's no exact date.

Beth: Aren't you afraid?

Helen: No. Why should I be? Dying the way I'm going to doesn't hurt, you know.

Helen's Mum: Sure as shooting hell you'll tip these over. (?)

Helen: I'm always dropping things.

Beth: I hope that boy hasn't died.

Helen: He probably has.

Outside.

Helen and Beth: Water go away, water go away. (over and over)

Helen: (shouting) Water go away, Water go away!

Beth: Stop! Stop! It's supposed to be slow and quiet, like praying. How come you don't go to church?

Helen: My cranium veins are throbbing again.

Beth: I'll come back tomorrow after lunch and we'll do it together again. We'll just keep doing every afternoon for the whole summer if that's what it takes, okay? Okay?

A couple of boys come up to the girls.

Helen: Oh, brother.

Boy: Fat head.

Boy: Freak.

Helen: Ignore them.

Beth: I'm not willing to ignore injustice.

Helen: The minute they hear I'm dead they'll remember this moment. That's justice.

Beth's house at dinner.

Dad: For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful. Have you heard anything about that boy?

Beth doesn't answer.

Dad: Beth?

Beth: When is Mum coming back?

Dad: Never.

Beth smashes the plate and runs out of the room.

My grandmother drew some symbols that meant 'Don't worry. It doesn't matter. I was gonna buy new dinnerware anyway.' It dawned on me that if my mum was coming back my grandmother would be leaving and if my grandmother was leaving she wouldn't be buying new dinnerware.

Beth: I love Jesus. I love Jesus. (over and over)

Coming down the train tracks.

Helen and Beth: Water go away, water go away. (over and over)

Helen: Who do you like?

Beth: Who do I like? Okay, fine. Promise you won't tell anyone.

Helen: Sure.

Beth: Chris Gora.

Helen: Eww. He's so mean.

Beth: Well, he's nice to me.

Helen: Well he's mean to me. He calls me fat head. Of course everybody calls me fat head. So it's not a big deal. I heard about this boy who had a mass of baby spiders break out of his cheek.

Beth: Wow, sick.

Helen: Baby spiders crawling all over his cheek …

Beth: Ewww.

Helen: Oozing with puss. Finally the doctor could burn the nest right out of his face.

Beth: Eww, sick.

Helen: My mum shaves her legs. She thinks it looks nice. To shave or not to shave. The life-shattering question.

Beth: (laughs). You know a lot about stuff.

Helen: Building knowledge for my future.

Beth: (measuring Helen's head). 27 inches.

Helen: Are you sure you're not pulling the tape tether?

Beth: Sure.

At Helen's house.

Helen: Muum, my head shrinked.

Helen's Mum: Oh, aren't you guys smart.

Beth: We're not making it up.

Helen's Mum: And who said you were?

Beth: Don't you think her head looks smaller?

Helen's Mum: Well, come to think of it you know what? I think it does look smaller.

Helen collapses onto the chair.

Helen's Mum: You all right, kiddo? Hey, are you all right?

Helen: (very quietly). I need a nap.

Beth is running down the street, arms in the air.

Beth: I love Jesus, I love Jesus! (over and over).

Nobody was home at Helen's that afternoon. Helen's mum's suitcase was gone. I couldn't remember how I got from the house to the road but I know I didn't float cause I didn't have the glowing sensation. The feeling of glory.

At Beth's house. The radio is turned on.

Radio Announcer: Closer to home a north Vancouver boy, 8 year old Kevin Leg (?) is recovering in hospital. Doctors report that the transplant was a success. The donor, a 12 year old girl, died in St. Andrews hospital late last night. Her name is being withheld at her family's request.

The phone rings and Beth's grandmother answers it.

My grandmother tapped her pencil seven times on the mouthpiece to say 'I'm listening and taking it all down.' I knew from hearing the chair scrape that she was pulling it back to sit down. I knew from hearing her pencil still scribbling that she was caught up in what the caller was saying. Helen's gift to the boy was as unexpected as the journey she took me on during that extraordinary summer of 1975. I never did float again. I'm still not sure that I really ever floated at all. I can say one thing though. I did feel the glowing sensation. And I did feel glory.

THE END