by Susan Glaspell (1921)
Ira - Male, Over 50 yrs
Scene partner - Madeline
Monologue - Dramatic, 2:00 to 3:00 min
Nothing stays at home. Not even the corn stays at home. If only the wind wouldn't blow! Why can't I have my field to myself? Why can't I keep what's mine? All these years I've worked to make it better. I wanted it to be — the most that it could be. My father used to talk about the Indians — how our land was their land, and how we must be more than them. He had his own ideas of bein' more — well, what's that come to? The Indians lived happier than we — wars, strikes, prisons. But I've made the corn more! This land that was once Indian maize now grows corn — I'd like to have the Indians see my corn! I'd like to see them side by side! — their Indian maize, my corn. And how'd I get it? Ah, by thinkin' — always tryin', changin', carin'. Plant this corn by that corn, and the pollen blows from corn to corn — the golden dust it blows, in the sunshine and of nights — blows from corn to corn like a — gift. No, you don't understand it, but corn don't stay what it is! You can make it anything — according to what you do, 'cording to the corn it's alongside. But that's it. I want it to stay in my field. It goes away. The prevailin' wind takes it on to the Johnsons — them Swedes that took my Madeline! I hear it! Oh, nights when I can't help myself — and in the sunshine I can see it — pollen — soft golden dust to make new life — goin' on to them, — and them too ignorant to know what's makin' their corn better! I want my field to myself. What'd I work all my life for? Work that's had to take the place o' what I lost — is that to go to Emil Johnson? No! The wind shall stand still! I'll make it. I'll find a way. Let me alone and I — I'll think it out. Let me alone, I say.