The Later Journeys - 21. Coming Clean

                                

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The next day was busy, as we knew it would be. Ben handled the lice issue with as much equanimity as he did everything else, and of course he was well aware of the problem. He apologized for having brought an old worn-out comb with him and asked if we might get him a newer one when Trevor went to the store. He showed us his lovely comb, carved from ivory. As one, we stood with our hands behind our backs, refusing to touch it. 

Warren had decided to go to the store with Trevor, since a supermarket was right next to the drugstore and we now had a fairly sizable shopping list anyway. The guys thought I could soften Ben up on the subject of present day cleanliness standards, promising to take a more “hands-on” approach with him once they got back. I smiled inwardly, trying and failing to picture my two post-doctoral buddies becoming strong-arm artists and forcing Ben into the shower.

We hadn’t yet introduced television, internet, advertising or even photography to Ben, so I knew it would be hard to convey the extent to which marketing and advertising had gradually come to dominate people’s everyday lives. But we knew that particularly after World War II, mass-production of beauty products had forced significant changes in Western culture. I remember my mother and grandmother talking about these changes, sometimes with amusement.

I did my best, explaining that while lice were still a problem nowadays, especially for schoolchildren, it was not considered common and that daily showering, clothes washing and frequent shampoos were a good part of the reason. I asked Ben if he had had an opportunity to try the bathtub or shower, and as I suspected, he had not, fearing that he might catch a chill.

I told him that once the guys got back, we’d be working to eradicate the problem for ourselves as well as for Ben, and that included stripping all the beds and putting everything through the washer and dryer. I felt comfortable enough with Ben by now to tell him how distressing it was to discover the problem and how the three of us had lost sleep and struggled to stop obsessively scratching our heads.

Ben offered me that familiar head-tilt. “Jas,” he said, by now accustomed to addressing us all in the most informal, familiar terms, “in my household, and those of everyone I knew, it was a routine courtesy to examine one another to aid in combing -- I would be glad to offer my services in that regard. Perhaps I will be able to reassure you that this problem has bypassed you.”

I hesitated. “I suppose you know exactly how to spot them. Okay, but please don’t do any combing. Just let me know what you see.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, with a smile. I sat back and once again, endeavored to breathe and stay calm as Ben rose and approached me from behind, gently parting my hair from one side to the other. What an odd feeling, but not unpleasant. It took about five minutes, and then he faced me with a smile. “Neither lice nor nits, madam,” he announced. "Perhaps it will surprise you to hear that in my experience, you are the first person I have known to appear without them."

I offered him a grateful grin, my first in a while. “That’s very good to know,” I told him. Never, ever again would I put on that awful powdered wig. I felt like I’d dodged a bullet after wearing it for nearly a week. “Don’t be surprised if all of us elect to use whatever it is that Trevor brings home from the store anyway. If you don’t mind, we’d like to have you use the more updated products, even if you have something you normally use. I suspect you have this problem to a far more pronounced degree than Trevor and Warren do."

“I suspect your offerings will be more effective than mine,” he agreed..

“We can salvage your comb, I think,” I said. “In this century, it would be considered a museum piece -- though some people would object to ivory being used.”

“Why?” he asked, and so I explained briefly about whales, elephants, rhinoceros and other large mammals that were now close to extinction. He shook his head in dismay. “How could such a thing happen?” It was then that I disclosed to him that the population of the world had increased eightfold since his time, and that the earth’s resources were becoming depleted.

“I’d rather have Trevor take you through all that -- he’s trying to keep things in chronological order,” I hastened to add.

“Two hundred forty-five years,” he murmured, trying to puzzle out how things could have changed so radically in such a relatively short time. Trevor’s teaching was a delicate process. So far, he’d been able to avoid the subject of Ben’s lifespan but most likely today or tomorrow he would have to get close to it. Ben was mathematically astute; he knew perfectly well how old he was and even if, by some improbable stroke of fortune he managed to live to the age of 100, that still meant that anything after 1806 would be firmly “after his time.” No doubt, this had crossed his mind.

Getting back to our original topic, I said “You needn’t be afraid of making more use of the bathtub and shower, Ben. You’ve noticed we have central heating, as well as electric hair dryers. That will go a long way toward eliminating the problem with the lice, once and for all. We want you to be able to come out with us and see more of the world. Lice just aren’t commonplace anymore and you simply would not be accepted in society if people were to learn that you had them.”

He smiled and shook his head in some wonderment. “I did notice that you three spent considerable time in the bathroom,” he said. “Does it not consume much of your day? I would have to be sure there were no other pressing business in order to be so occupied.”

“And I suppose you were used to having the assistance of servants to draw water and so forth.”

He acknowledged that this was true. “Once again,” he said, “I am reminded of the power of electricity to furnish so many speedy remedies to common chores. It has clearly wrought changes in one’s everyday routine.”

“Well, let me show you one,” I said, and led him to the bathroom. I reached down into a storage cabinet under the sink and pulled out my 1875-watt Conair. “Have you seen this?” I asked.

“I did open the cupboard but declined to handle anything with an electrical cord,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, and showed him how the device plugged into the outlet near the light. “Get ready for some loud noise.” I pointed the nozzle away from him and turned on the dryer. He jumped a bit; I put my hand in front of the air stream and invited him to do as well, taking care to only let him experience the hot air for a second or two. I briefly switched the setting to low and demonstrated the “Cool” button.

“I promise you, Ben, this will get your hair dry quickly. If I recall, it’s useful for lice as well. You can style it too, if you want. There are enough hair products available to fill an entire store. You’ll see that too, sooner or later, when we take you shopping with us.” I finished by unplugging the hairdryer and showing him the automatic cord-winder concealed within it.

“Fascinating,” he said. He paused, then posed a different question. “You said ‘oh-kay.’ More than once, actually. What did that mean?”

“Oh -- sorry!” I laughed, embarrassed. “That is an expression that didn’t come into use until the middle of the 19th century. I think it originally meant ‘all correct' or some such. One of the presidents was nicknamed ‘Old Kinderhook' --O.K. -- and when he signed documents, I think he used that abbreviation, so it came to mean 'all right' or 'approved'. Nowadays, we toss it around all the time. It can mean lots of things. We’re all in such a hurry, we even say just ‘kay’ instead of ‘oh-kay.’”

Ben smiled. “Yes, I have noticed the hurried quality of movements and speech. Sometimes I have difficulty understanding what you and the gentlemen are saying.”

I apologized for that. “Please do ask us to slow down anytime that happens. It won’t hurt us; it’s something we should do much more often.”

“I recall you and Trev describing the fantastic speeds at which ... automobiles travel. I would very much like to witness that.”

“You will,” I said, with a hand on his forearm to emphasize the assurance. “When Mr. Greenfield gets here, he will want to help you obtain a document that gives you a public identity. With this many people in the world, it’s a necessity. You could be asked to show it. Once you have that, you can travel anywhere.” I made a mental note that we had to introduce the subject of photography, sooner than later, so that Ben would be prepared for having his picture taken.

Ben smiled. “I look forward to that. It has been pleasant to enjoy this comfortable home and your company. However, I am more accustomed to moving here and there most days.”

“We will get you out of the house. No one wants cabin fever.”

He chuckled. “‘Cabin fever.’ An apt term indeed.” It tickled me to introduce him to unfamiliar slang such as “cabin fever” and “okay.” They were doing him no harm and helping him to adjust to this new experience.

We made coffee and sat comfortably, talking about fashion and grooming. I described how long hair for men had gone in and out of fashion during the 20th century, and how we now had sort of an “anything goes” mentality that included “man-buns,” which I attempted to describe. Surprisingly, Ben said he was familiar with the style, which was often used by laborers with longer hair, to keep it out of the way in risky situations -- but held up with elaborate pins and sometimes glue, rather than elastic. He said his contemporaneous hairstyle had much to do with keeping the neck warm in colder weather, but also “framed the face more attractively and disguised certain defacements,” such as pockmarks or deformed ears, which he said were not uncommon. All at once he took a deep breath and his eyes showed emotion. He saw me looking at him with concern and explained the thought that had just occurred to him.

“I...may have begun to view my lifetime as...the bygone past,” he said haltingly. “All at once it seems more distant to me. Is such a thing possible?”

“Yes, I think so,” I said. “And the more new experiences you have in the coming days and weeks, the more relevant they are likely to be to you. At least, that’s what I would expect.”

“It is my hope that I will not forget those people and places so fond in my heart,” he said. I reassured him that it was highly unlikely -- not mentioning that I actually knew this to be the case since no accounts of Ben’s last days said anything about dementia or memory loss. Briefly I wondered if anything about the environment into which he had been so unceremoniously thrust would bode poorly for that same outcome, knowing how prevalent dementia and Alzheimer’s were in the present day. But I barely had time to process the thought before I heard Warren’s car drive up.

He and Trevor were soon through the door with bags of groceries, which Ben and I helped put away, relay-style. I noticed that the two of them looked much more relaxed and upbeat than they had been when they left the house. We soon found out why.

“Good news, Jas,” said Warren. “We may not have that much to worry about after all. Trev and I made a little side trip to the county health department and got our heads checked.”

“They gave us a clean bill of hair,” added Trevor with a smile.

“Good,” I responded. “Ben rendered the same verdict on me, and he didn’t even have to put on disposable plastic gloves. Thank you, Ben,” I added. He gave a gracious nod.

“But we did get some items just for you, Ben,” said Warren. “If you like, I can assist you in applying them. We’re not sure what to do about your clothes. We don’t want to ruin them in the wash. But I think your bed linens will be safe, so we can take care of that before you hit the sack tonight.” Ben smiled, obviously making a mental note of yet another new idiom.

The guys had eaten fast food on the way home, so I prepared some leftovers from last night’s dinner for Ben and me, and then we all got going with whatever pressing chores we had. Once we got Ben’s scalp cleared and his bedding deloused, our next order of business would be planning for Gerry’s visit, coming up shortly.

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