MONO3.HTML

Updated 7/31/03

MONOLOGS FOR OLDER WOMEN

(The times given
are informed guesses)

#1 (1 minute, plus)

(Summer, 1919, St. Louis, the Madden Kitchen. LIZ, 41 and a widow, argues with her visiting daughter, Dot, about the health of Helen, her tubercular eldest daughter)

LIZ: (low so she won't be overheard, intense) Tuberculosis - that girl ain't so sick she wouldn't get better if she could just let herself! (fights tears) She's willin' herself to death! Her spirit's broke, she won't fight! I watched it with your Pa - five year he had T.B. He was winnin' his fight, winnin' it! Till his cousin Jerry that was more brother to him than his own brother - till his cousin Jerry beat him out a 20 acres a bottom land your Pa had bought for Bud. Bought it the week Bud was born. (she can still see it and hardly believes it, yet) Had 'em set out in alfalfa that year, an' Jerry -- it was some kinda flim-flam with deeds missin' an' like that. Jerry beat out your Pa - an' it hurt him in his heart so bad -- that man just give up. Stopped fightin'. (blinks back tears) It's the same with that girl in there - she's dyin' over not bein' able ever to see her boy, over bein' shut out by that ornery, stuck-up - (has to swallow hard to be able to continue) - her heart's broke. (fights angry tears) T.B. is more'n just bugs! Lovin' by itself is a mortal business. Life don't mean much without it, but it can kill you just the same.

#2 (1 min.)

(Summer, 1970. The Morgan Yard, a Missouri Ozark Mountain-top family graveyard. ORPHA MORGAN REINHART, 40, owner of the largest undertaking business in the town of indian landing, and Carrie Morgan's daughter, has come to the graveyard to try to persuade her mother to give in peaceably to the inevitable army takeover of the yard. She has failed - and now vents some of the feelings about the graveyard she has kept pent up for most of her life)

ORPHA: This place, this place, this place - God damn this place! Ever since I can remember, it's been this place! When we weren't tending graves up here, or burying somebody, we were planning to come up here. We had picnics up here, weddings up here, even for Christsakes, Christenings up here! Cradle to the grave, Morgan style! And you - up here every chance you could get, talking to Daddy like he was still alive - (fights tears) - everybody in town calling you the crazy woman. You see these pins - (points to pins on her bosom) This one is Daughters of 1812. This one's Daughters of the Confederacy. (blazing) If it wasn't for you, I'd be President of both - instead of the daughter of a damned old fool! (fights tears again) Letting Daddy cough his goddam lungs out up there on that old farm - you could have brought us down to town to live instead of waiting till he died! And don't give me that guff about him wanting to die up there - he was sick, you could have made him! (sees her father clearly before her) Day after day, laying out there under that goddam sycamore, coughing, coughing - his skin growing so waxy you could see his bones right through it. (final tug at her white gloves) I'm going now, mama. And if I ever see this place again, I hope it's plowed under. (she goes)

#3 (1:30 min.)

(Summer, 1919, St. Louis, the Madden Kitchen. LIZ, 41, and a widow with 4 grown and near-grown daughters, has just been asked by one of them, what she'll do for money to support herself and Helen, her tubercular daughter, if her two working daughters leave home. LIZ thrusts off her fear of this with a brave front)

LIZ: What'll I do for money to support me an' Helen if one a you girls leaves? (bravado) I'll open me a boardin' house, that's what I'll do! Like we used to have on Dodier Street! Let out our two front rooms - parlour an' dinin' room - (she has thought about this) Why, I could get me four, mebbe five, nice men in there - parlour's big enough for three. That'd pay for runnin' this place! Only reason I ain't done it before - an' then I wouldn't a had to call on you girls - was the boys is all been overseas fightin' the war. But they're comin' home, now - ever' day they's more. Be lots a men, now, lookin' for a nice place to live, good vittles - (confides) Whole secret a makin' a boardin' house pay is right here where I'm a-settin' - the kitchen. (pride) I know how to run a good table, cheap. I get premium prices for my board, let me tell you. So don't you fret none 'bout what Eylie nor Terry does. (holds up hand to forestall interruption Be nice to have some payin' men around the house again - that's the onliest way to live with 'em, when they're payin' - (the wonder of it) You take a man is married to you - why he can have the craziest notions about ennathing an' ever'thing - an' most likely has - an' he expects you to abide by 'em just 'cause he's a man. You take that same man, he's a payin' guest - why he's nice as apple pie. He stays out from underfoot till you're ready for him. Calls you "Miz Madden" Praises your cookin'. Joshes you real nice when the mood is on him. An' he listens to you, do you got ennathing to tell him. Oh, havin' a payin' man about is the onliest way.

#4 (1 min. plus)

(Summer, 1919, St. Louis, the Madden Kitchen. After an outburst of grief-stricken rage - and seemingly against heaven, itself - LIZ, 41, has just been accused of an attack upon God by a daughter who had joined her tirade in sympathy)

LIZ: (indignant) Criticizin' the Lord - I wasn't criticizin' Him - I was grievin'! Grievin' for my dead boy! (has to catch her breath) Daughter, you got a peanut-sized brain - shrunk up an' shrivelled from tryin' to understand what you cain't even picture! You cain't picture the Eternal. You got this tiny little brain - it ends up with the shape a your face. The Eternal - why it - you cain't picture it. Nobuddy can. But it's there. All you got to do is look up - an' it's there! No beginnin' an' no end! We cain't picture the fact a that, let alone the mystery! 'Cause whatever we conjure up to do it, we got to say, "An' beyond that -" Then we got to do it again, "an' beyond that - " 'n' so on. No matter what we do, we cain't never make the Eternal give us back the idee of it, nevermind the meanin'. So I may do some hollerin', 'cause I'm mortal an' my boy is dead an' I hurt just like anybuddy else. But I don't never criticize what I don't have a prayer a understandin'. (beat) Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just go to my room an' set a spell. (starts off) If the tea's ready 'fore I'm back, jes' put a stick o' whiskey in it an' leave it outside my door. (she goes)

#5 (1:45 min.)

(Summer, 1919, St. Louis, The Madden Kitchen. LIZ, 41, and a widow with 4 grown and near-grown daughters, is alone onstage, her daughters having just left)

LIZ: My innards churnin' like they was makin' butter! (she stomps toward hall door, stops in her tracks, frowns, unseeing at the very air, wheels, marches in another direction, stops again) Don't want nothin' in Helen's room! (calls out to dead husband) Fitz! You had the right idee! Pack it into the grave early an' let the others do the sweatin'! (hits out at whatever is near) Didn't mean that, love - it's just -- I got the blues so bad -- ever'buddy natterin' at me for answers -- till I got no strength. "Mama this" an' "Mama that"! -- (tries to wet her dry throat) I got no Mama I can turn to - - - no, nor no man, nuther -- Nobuddy. Nuthin' to lean on, ever - (sings) I GOT THE WEARY BLUES, SAD AS I CAN BE - I GOT THE WEARY BLUES, SAD AS I CAN BE -- (breaks off) Tell you what, Lord! - (with difficulty) - an' I don't want you to think - - I'm complainin' or criticizin' - - 'cause like I tole my daughter, Dot -- I know my mind - ain't able to see no futher'n - - well - (getting angry with herself over her inability to express her thought) - Well, even when Moses - - even when he went up on the mountain top - - he couldn't see no futher'n the edge a the earth, I know that! But - (afraid she's losing herpoint) - Well, now looka here. I know you move in mysterious ways your wonders to perform, I know that - But - (swallows) - Lord, I got to say this - - - I hurt so bad right now that I cain't help feelin' - (her anger can't be held in any longer) - If you was a woman, you'd a-done it different! (long beat: quietly) Amen. (she goes)

Return to My Home Page

Or My Farewell Page

Or Other Monologs

Young Women
Young Women (cont'd)
Young Men
Young Men (cont'd)
Older Women (cont'd)
(New) More Monologs For Older Women
Older Men
Older Men (cont'd)

(New)More Monologs For Older Men

E-mail