Jacob's Children, Chapter Eight

The chronicle becomes a bit more murky at this point, for while we may trace the offspring of Naomi, it is uncertain whether Lemuel fathered any children (he may not have known the truth of this, in fact) who may have expressed the traits of Jacob. There is no record of any such and one would think there might be some mention of it in the histories of the time, for these clearly record the lineage of Jacob otherwise. This fact in placed in this record only as a disclaimer of any hope that we may have captured here all of those who may have received from Jacob his unique response to the world and its suffering.

To the Traveler, then. Though going from place to place is common to us, in the times of which we speak it was rather unusual to simply take to the road. Security was to be found in community and not in one's individuality. Even a misanthrope like Lemuel required a symbiosis with those he shunned. So the Traveler, in the very fact of his traveling, was an oddity. He arrived in the village unheralded and asked for hospitality at what appeared to be the richest of the hovels, which belonged to the community's butcher who, as we know, was Samuel. He was willingly taken in, for not only were they spontaneously, unaffectedly openhearted but the allure of a stranger, who would have tales and a life quite unknown to them, was deeply appealing. The Traveler's name was Mackarias. He had indeed travelled the corners of the Earth, and this is the tale he told:

I was born not far from here and was by all reports an average child. I was not distinguished by my learning or my industry. I was but middling strong and middling smart. But my mother reports me friendly, open and sweet. When I neared my teen years, though, I underwent a metamorphosis most strange, for I became surly and unkind to most everyone. Almost immediately I began to grow more and more stout. I was no less active than before but grew heavier and heavier as the days went by. My mother wept a great deal around this time and I didn't pay it much mind, though it seemed to me a bit excessive under the circumstances. But what did I care? It was nothing to me. One day, though, my dear mother packed a bag for me and all but pushed me on to a train bound for the city where my uncle lived. I was mystified by this but she offered no explanation, only cried and cried as if I was going off to war.

Nonetheless I was cheerful enough, for my uncle was a kindly gentleman and quite wealthy, so spending time with him was a treat. At that time I considered myself worldly and the city my natural domain. So it was with a glad heart that I boarded the train. My uncle met me at the station and took me out to a superb lunch, at which the only somewhat embarrassing part was how kind and effusive my uncle was with all of the staff. We then retired to his house and, after we had made ourselves comfortable in the drawing room, I surmised from my uncle's unusually grave visage that some weighty subject was at hand, for he never as a rule appeared anything but cheery. It was with some relief I saw this, for I was anxious to finally get to the bottom of the oddness that had enveloped the last few weeks.

He cleared his throat and began, "My boy...." He hesitated, seemingly uncertain how to begin.

"Uncle?"

"Mmm. Hmm, well. Yes. I...I see you seem to have gained a bit of...girth about the middle, eh?"

My face flushed and I made as if to remonstrate, but he held his hand up to stop me. "No, no, this is not an idle observation, son. For you see...well, in our family there is a rather peculiar trait. Your mother had thought you might be spared and so it seemed, for you never had any sign of any untoward...adiposity, if you know what I mean."

I didn't, but I got his drift well enough. Well, of all the things! Mother sending me to Uncle to tell me off for being portly or some such thing. I was deeply offended. But one thing he said caught my attention and made me pause before an explosion. "An odd trait, you say, Uncle?"

"Yes, rather. Well, you see, the fact is, that in this family from time to time a boy or girl is born with the predisposition to become rather obese, sometimes to quite an extreme, unless they are...well...unfailingly kind to everyone they meet. I know, I know, it sounds fantastic. You do remember your Aunt Beattie, though?"

God, did I. One of the nastiest dispositions on the face of the Earth. And...why, she had been one of the largest women I had ever seen. But, still. "Uncle, you can't be serious. If this a ploy to get me to mend my ways...."

"I assure you I have never been more in earnest than I am at this moment. I know it is something of a shock. While you were young it never manifested, I suspect because you were an uncommonly graceful, kind child. Your mother had hope that you had escaped the inheritance but, alas, it is clear that you have not. That is why you are here, for me to tell you about this from my own experience."

"You, uncle?" I asked incredulously. "But you are always so...and you have never been.... Oh."

"Yes, oh, indeed. Please, my boy, there is no need to absorb this all in one go. Let's us go to bed and discuss it more in the morning. After a good night's sleep you may see things in a brighter light." For I fear my face must have betrayed my deep misgivings about either my uncle's sanity or my own fate. I was not able to sleep much that night and when I dropped off toward dawn could only dream of emaciated renunciates and corpulent gluttons until I woke more exhausted than I had gone to bed.

It did not take many days before I began to see the truth of what my uncle had told me. When I was kind to all and sundry (a rather unpleasant undertaking for such a surly lad as me), I could consume to my heart's content and had nary a change in my belt loops. But a day of meanness put me well on the way to needing a whole new wardrobe. Soon it was undeniable. I was doomed (so it seemed to me at the time) to a life of kindness.

Chapter Nine is here.