into the water and jump in after it. Oh look everybody, it’snEleanor, and she’s brought the strawberry pie.n”Poor Philo, if he hadn’t married Eleanor.”nThey think I don’t hear them. They think it’s my faultnPhilo is so feeble. They think he should have marriednsomebody big and strong, that knew how to take care ofnthings — as if failure crippled, not age or disease. Two ofnMarge’s boys help him onto the dock and I know that for thenday at least he will be taken care of Then I bend down fornthe hamper and my dress rides up in the back so they can allnsee clear up to where my stockings roll. When I pop up withnthe basket one of those big boys will be gawking; I seenEdna’s Milt looking snide as I hand up the pies.nEorty-two years of crying on the Fourth of July. That’s sixnweeks of crying on that day alone, never mind the otherntimes when I’m safe at home. I have to go off somewhere sonthey won’t see I’m down; otherwise his sisters will be all overnme, all fleshy farmers’ hands and watery brown eyes.nWhy Eleanor, what’s the matter?nWhat on earth’s the matter, Eleanor?nI know they mean well but there are so many of themnwith those same eyes, and after all these years I am stillnscared of them. I have to walk softly among them so theynwon’t smell the fear on me and strike.nWhen I met Philo we were a thousand miles from herenand I thought he was what I thought he was. How was Insupposed to know he was only the tip of something larger,nthat big family with their big frames and the big hearts thatnhe keeps throwing up to me. How could I know I was goingnto shrivel in their presence, when I was supposed to measurenup? Only litfle Benjy came down for the wedding; the rest ofnthem were planning a great big wedding party at the campnwhen Philo brought me home.nThey were already on the island when we got there. ThenGoodmans are scattered over three counties and they mightneven seem ordinary when taken separately, but when theyncome together on that island they are enormous, like anbunch of bones that have snapped in place to make andinosaur. They all come with hampers and casseroles andnbaskets of fruit and early vegetables and homemade picklesnand preserves; they come loaded down with food nobodyncould ever finish eating, not even the whole state of Maine,nbecause overflow has always been part of it, which is one ofnthe reasons I always cry. I don’t have much of anything tonspare.nWe sat down at tresfle tables in the cabin Philo and hisnfather and brothers made, everybody laughing and elbowingnon the long benches, muttering over their food. They hadngangs of kids pushing each other off benches at thenchildren’s table and smearing wedding cake. I could see thenGoodmans were caught up in their own plenty and at thensame time they were watching, judging me; the next thing Inknew tears were running down my nose into the macaroninsalad and I ran away. Philo flew up and followed me down tonthe dock; he was scared to death something was wrong.nThen when I tried to tell him he pulled back and said, “Isnthat all?”nI said, “I can’t.”nHe put his arms around me. “It’s only my family.”nAnd didn’t I bellow then; “I know.”nHe was all There there. “You’ll feel better about it nextn26/CHRONICLESnnnyear. Next year you’ll have something to bring.”nHe meant the pies of course, somebody at the top of thenworid had decided what I was going to bring.nAnd I sobbed harder because I will always hate makingnpies, but all those strong women will go to the grave withoutnknowing it. And even after he hugged me and went “Sh sh,nthere there,” I kept on crying because I already knewnwithout knowing that no matter what I brought, it wouldnnever be enough because I am only the one person andntogether the Goodmans are that huge living thing.nWhen Evelyn was born I thought: Maybe this willnmake the difference. Philo took care of her for twondays that summer while I dragged myself around the kitchennmaking those hateful pies, I’ll never forget all the papernplates with the leftovers still on them, going into the trash.nEvvie was only four weeks old and I wasn’t quite myself;nPhilo’s brothers Ralph and Benjy had to help me out of thenboat and then his big sister Marge looked into the blanketnand I could just see what she was thinking when she said,n”Oh look everybody, it’s a girl.” Then she put the blanketnback because Goodman women only ever had boys, and Incried for embarrassment, for my baby Evelyn. They allnbrought presents, pink this and ruffled that. They said, “It’snso nice to buy something pretty for a change,” but I knewnwhat they meant. Philo’s Pop was still alive and he heldnEvvie in his two hands, weighing her against all thosenGoodman boys; she was next to nothing in his hands. Philo,nhe didn’t see it; he idolized Evvie, he always did, which isnwhy when she got to high school and went so bad, he took itnso hard. He was tickled and dizzy that summer, ratflingnaround the camp like one of them, but I could see their eyesnwhen they thought I .wasn’t looking, and I knew.nOne year Benjy’s wife Lane took me aside. She’d been innthe family for a while by then; all those Goodmans tooknright to her, good big gid, gave them lots of litfle boys. Inremember my sweet boy Randolph was hiding up in thenwoods where they all chased them, them savage cousins withntheir big shoulders and their tufted heads; he just hid and henwouldn’t come down until night when all the other boatsnhad left. My Evelyn was leading the pack that badgered him,nfilthy and loud as any of the boys, so it wasn’t our poornRandolph I was crying for but Evvie, because she thoughtnshe was just as good as all the rest of them, the Goodmansnwith their shaggy heads and their big klunky feet.nAt the end Benjy’s wife came up to me, her voice was lownand kind of There there, “These picnics are hard. Everybodynfeels the strain.”nI looked at her and I thought: Potato salad, practicallynfoolproof; they all made a big fuss over it even though shenand Benjy hadn’t been married half as long as Philo and me.n”Your salad was real good this year.”n”Don’t cry Eleanor.” She was looking up into the darknpines, where Randolph had disappeared to, and I thought Inheard her muttering, “I hate it,” so we almost talked, butnthen one of the big boys jumped Evvie and by the time Inpulled her out of the fight and got back to her, Benjy’s wifenwas saying, “I’m always scared to death it will turn out to benmushy,” and her boys were bouncing on her, she wasnsurrounded by big strong sons, so I couldn’t be sure whatnshe’d really tried to say.n