Starbird Murphy and the World Outside (34 page)

Our Family believed in communal property, too. At least, I thought we did.

I read about early socialist communes like Brook Farm, the Amana Colonies, and the Oneida Community. Most of them were concerned with creating a bond between intellectual and manual labor, giving everyone access to education, and promoting equality for men and women. Nearly all of them had conflicts with Outsiders. The bell rang. I hadn't stopped reading for the entire period.

I used the crisis pass again to get out of literature, then Spanish and horticulture, my whole afternoon of classes. I kept going back to the library and the same table behind a tall stack. Classes of students came and went, and occasionally someone would stroll past my table. But I was lost in the pages. I finally got to the chapters on modern American communes.

The author said there were tens of thousands of communes started in the 1960s and 1970s. There were “open land” communes where there were no leaders, just free space where people built structures and lived together. Most of these communes didn't last because of management conflicts and because they had no leaders to help find resolution.

I read about places like the Hog Farm and the Olompali ranch, where members made food and gave it for free to Outsiders, because they believed everyone should have something to eat. All of the communities seemed to start with such good intentions, such intense beliefs that the world should be a better place. But commune after commune failed, and lots of people went away feeling angry.

One persistent reason communes dissolve is disagreements over authority and structure. A common, idealized notion in such communities is that no one should tell anyone else what to do, and directions are given by those with the most knowledge about a particular job. But strong personalities frequently step forward to take on responsibility, and there is a tendency toward the creation of mother and father figures. Communes with shared spiritual beliefs have proved to be the most stable and the most long-lasting. One of the largest and oldest of these is the Free Family Commune in Washington State.

I stopped. I read the sentence again. I slapped the book shut and looked around. The library had gone quiet, not one student left in the room. I didn't even see a librarian bustling around behind the circulation desk. With a shaky hand, I opened the book again.

The Free Family Commune was founded in 1970 by Arnold Muller, a first generation German immigrant and advertising salesman who purported to hear divine instructions from “the Cosmos.” Renaming himself EARTH and his disciples after planets, he moved the group to the Murphy family farm in rural Washington State in 1975 where a faction of the group has lived for almost forty years. Although a splinter group in British Columbia worships Muller as a deity, most factions consider him a father figure. Some former group members report excommunication of those considered non-Believers and coercion to share property. Most notable among these is Ronald Sums (Family name Clay Omega), who deeded a property and restaurant business in Seattle to the Family during his membership in the 1970s, and Steven Cross (Family name Jupiter Sand), who gave a large sum of cash to the Family in 1981.

There it was in print: my life and my Family boiled down into five pathetic sentences written by an Outsider. This didn't capture my Family. It didn't sound like us at all. It did explain why Clay Omega was so angry when I called him about the apple pressing. My eyes wandered around the library, still quiet and student-free. Suddenly, I realized why. School had ended twenty minutes ago. I was late for history club, and it so happened I really needed the answer to a question today.

 
 

When I burst through the door of Teacher Ted's classroom, other kids were already at computers doing research. Ted looked up from his desk and said, “Starbird, you made it.”

“Sorry I'm late.” I was out of breath, the book gripped against my chest, its title hidden by my arm.

“Want some tea?” He reached for the electric kettle on his bookshelf.

“I have my question.” I sunk into a chair near his desk.

“Okay.” Ted poured hot water into a cup and handed me a tea bag. “Want to share it with me?”

I glanced at the other students in the back of the room. Their eyes were stuck to their computer screens. I didn't want to expose more secrets to Teacher Ted, but I needed help I couldn't get from my Family. I scooted my chair closer to his desk and lowered my voice. “How do you know if you're being brainwashed?”

Ted touched his beard before leaning toward me. “Starbird, before we go on, I need to tell you that if I believe you are being physically harmed or in danger, I legally have to report that to the state of Washington.”

“No. I'm not in any danger.” I paused.
Was that true? Did Mars really threaten to kill me?
I shook off the thought. “I'm struggling with my beliefs.”

“Ah,” said Ted and nodded. “That is a common experience for people from all backgrounds. Brainwashing is an interesting topic. There is plenty of debate in psychology and sociology about mind control.” Ted leaned back in his chair again. “Research has shown that sudden changes in behavior, even core values, can be achieved through coercion and that all human beings are susceptible. Some neurology experiments indicate that conditioning the brain's frontal lobe can lead us to more black-and-white thinking indicative of mind control.” Ted paused. “I'm getting too technical. Let's look at this another way. Have you ever noticed a situation where a bunch of people were all doing something strange, maybe even shocking, and it doesn't make sense to you?”

“I guess.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well, I don't get why women wear high-heeled shoes. They won't keep your feet warm or dry, you can't do physical work in them. You could twist your ankle. They don't seem to do what shoes are meant to do.”

Ted started laughing. “Great one. Yes, high-heeled shoes are specific to certain cultures, and they happen to cause all kinds of muscular strain. So that's an example from our culture. To take it in a more serious direction, you could look at a case of genocide, like the one in Rwanda in the nineties. Neighbors who had lived next to one another for years suddenly started picking up machetes, going to their neighbors' houses, and killing everyone. Not just in one incident, but all over the country. The world was shocked. Now, there were complicated historical reasons that this happened, the most insidious and devastating being the effects of colonization, but the
way
it happened is that radio stations were running a constant program of insults against a certain ethnic group, calling them rats and calling for their extermination. Seemingly rational people picked up machetes and started killing their next-door neighbors because they heard on the radio that they should.”

I wanted to cry. “But I would never do something like that just because someone told me to.”

“That's what we all think. But what if you were being constantly fed a diet of terrifying information, someone telling you that those neighbors were going to steal everything you owned, take over your country, if you didn't go kill them?”

“I still don't think I would do it,” I said.

“And many people didn't. It wasn't everyone in the country. Some people risked their lives to save others. The important question for us as people has to do with the difference between those two groups—those who followed orders and those who didn't. As a teacher, I influence students to act, dress, and speak in ways that are culturally acceptable in the U.S. Those rules would be completely different if we were in China or South America. The point I'm trying to make, Starbird, is that we all see ourselves as freethinking individuals, but each of us is a product of cultural rules and information that guide our beliefs. It is very difficult to tell the difference between that and mind control.”

I dropped the book into my lap and leaned against the back of the chair. Teacher Ted's examples were making me feel hopeless.

“Oh man, I went there again, didn't I?” Ted put both hands on his head. “You came here to talk about your life and I went all history teacher on you. It drives my wife crazy. She wants to talk about chores, and I start a discussion of the shifting gender roles in the industrial age. You said you were having a crisis of faith?”

I did need to talk to someone, but it was so hard to tell who to trust. How could I know what to think if I was being influenced by everything I heard? “People are telling me things,” I said, “and I can't tell who I should believe.”

“I see.” Ted laced his fingers together and put his hands on the desk. “That can be very difficult, but the fact that you're asking these questions is a good sign,” he said. “It shows that you are questioning, thinking critically. The ability to think critically seems to be the one way we're able to distinguish between culture and our individual decisions. The world is a complicated place, and sometimes that makes people want to follow a leader or a set of principles that makes the world look simple, black-and-white, right and wrong. Do you mind if I give you some advice?”

“I don't mind.”

“Keep asking questions. Listen for what resonates as the truth within yourself, but think critically.” Ted made a fist and put it against his chest. “Don't look for absolute rights and wrongs. The world rarely provides them.”

 30 

A
fter history club, I ran to the bus stop. I wanted to get home so I could sneak some food to Doug before dinner. EARTH was coming tonight. EARTH would be at Beacon House for Story Night. I should have been elated. This was the moment I had been anticipating for three years. But no other emotion could trump my anxiety. If dogs can smell fear like they say, then every pooch on our block must have known I was coming.

I raced up the steps of Beacon House, flung open the door, and nearly screamed. Standing right inside the foyer and peering into our hall closet was an older, thinner, and more wrinkled Mars Wolf.

My face probably showed the terror I was feeling, so when I attempted a smile, I must have looked demented, smiling and sad at the same time.

Mars Wolf looked at me and he smiled, too, but more like a satisfied cat. “Starbird, I've missed you,” he said, opening his arms to offer me a hug.

I dropped my backpack on the floor and stepped toward him like he was a diving board and I didn't know how to swim. How do you hug a man who threatened to kill you?

Through the door to the kitchen, I could see V chopping onions at our island. She was watching us.

“Starbird!” A warm, full voice came booming from the living room and filled the hall, rescuing me from Mars. It was a voice I loved. It was EARTH.

I moved with relief into the front room. Seated in the overstuffed chair where Ephraim usually sat, with Kale on his lap and Europa perched on a short stool next to him, was our Translator and Guide. His beard was whiter than before, long and full. He was a thinner version of Santa Claus, wearing a cashmere sweater and jeans instead of a fur-lined suit. He also wore black leather slippers and had a large silver ring on each hand.

EARTH handed Kale to Europa and gestured to me. “I've got some serious questions to ask you,” he said. “Come here and stand in front of me.”

My hands became fists. A gang of red blotches ran roughshod over my chest. Did he know about Doug, or about my conversation with Teacher Ted? Did he know about my bringing Ben into the café, or that I knew about Arnold Muller? Would I tell the truth or lie? “Okay,” I said, walking over to a spot on the rug in front of his chair. I tried to hold my head up.

“What did you do with the little girl I left at the Farm? You've replaced her with a beautiful woman.” EARTH's blue eyes sparkled and the sweet wrinkles around them multiplied. His shoulders had a slight hunch where he sat in the chair, but his presence was huge in the room. Even seated, he might have been ten feet tall.

The fortress I had spent my day constructing fell to pieces. EARTH was back. All the stress, sadness, and concern drained out of me. I sank down on the rug at his feet. Everything that had been wrong—Doug, Mars, the Farm, the café—it was all manageable. EARTH could fix it. We could do it together. I could feel my love for him fill up my chest. How could I have doubted him? He loved me.

“Eve and I framed your letters,” I said, resting my head against his knee and wrapping my arms around his calf.

“I wish I could have written more.” He stroked my hair. “We were so busy. Wait until you see everything we've been doing for the Family.”

Tears of relief and joy came fast and unexpected. It was warm and dry in our house, and the smell of dinner cooking was rich, and EARTH was back and everything was going to be okay.

“I was just saying to EARTH that we should start homeschooling again, that you and Cham should stop going to public school,” Europa said.

Cham walked in from the kitchen carrying a cup of tea and handed it to EARTH. EARTH took the tea with his left hand, but reached for Cham's hand with his right. “The first thing we need to do is get Ephraim home from the hospital,” he said, staring at Cham. “Then we can get him healthy again.”

I looked up at Cham's face to see it breaking apart. His lip was quivering and his eyes were red. He put his free hand over his face and his shoulders buckled.

“The Cosmos told me he will heal,” said EARTH, squeezing Cham's hand.

Cham sucked in a sudden breath and pulled his hand away. He turned to the basement door and disappeared into the lower level.

“He'll be okay,” said EARTH. “We'll all be okay.” He took a sip of the tea and put it down. “Tell me, Starbird, about our wonderful success at the café. Europa says you've been very helpful.” EARTH put his hand under my chin and looked into my face. I felt like I hadn't been looked at in a long time. Or maybe I'd been looked at but not seen.

“I've tried to be useful,” I said.

Europa made a little snorting noise.

“That's what I hear. I know about the apple pressing. I know how profitable it was. We need more entrepreneurs in the Family.”

A prideful sparrow started singing in my belly.
Entrepreneur.

“So, was it just the apple pressing, or did you help with more of Ephraim's work while our brother has been ill?”

I looked down at EARTH's slippers. “I did some bank deposits, too,” I said, which wasn't untrue. Then I added, “I'm pretty good with numbers.”

“Yes,” EARTH said, his eyes squinting almost imperceptibly, “so I've been hearing. You did deposits, and did you pay some bills as well?”

“I did pay some bills,” I confessed. “I know it wasn't my job, but there were so many marked
final notice
, so I just paid those. And I did the payroll.” The more I told EARTH, the lighter I felt.

“What an amazing girl. You figured that all out on your own?” EARTH's eyes moved through each of the four quadrants of my face, a searching gaze.

I nodded slowly. He looked a little longer, then said, “Well, our financial worries are over. I've got some exciting news to share tonight. I would like you to sit next to me at dinner, Starbird, and during Story Night as well.”

Europa stood abruptly and lifted Kale onto her hip. “Come on, Kale, let's make ourselves
useful
,” she said, disappearing out of the room.

I practically skipped into the kitchen to help V finish the meal. I had waited three years for this. EARTH never meant for me to work in the chicken coop. He called me an entrepreneur. He saw me as important, the way he saw Doug Fir.

Doug Fir.
I suddenly remembered I hadn't brought him dinner. My brother was out there in a park hungry, and I was in a warm kitchen, filled with food and Family. The thought made me furious. Why did he have to leave in the first place? Why did he have to snoop into EARTH's affairs? That's why Mars Wolf threatened Doug—he was just protecting EARTH and the Family. I had managed to help with café bills without getting in trouble. Why did Doug have to ruin it? I couldn't leave the house now.
Doug will just have to fend for himself
, I thought, but guilt nagged at me as I gathered silverware to set the table.

“We visited Ephraim today in the hospital,” said V, cutting slices of warm bread. “EARTH and Mars went, too. His cough isn't getting any better, despite the steroids. They're going to do more tests.”

“I bet he was so happy to see EARTH there,” Europa said.

“Yeah, in between coughing fits, he was just ecstatic,” said V.

 
 

We put an extra leaf in the table, and EARTH sat at the head with Mars Wolf at the other end. Europa put out a white tablecloth and candles and the loveliest of our mismatched china. As everyone started to sit, Europa put her hand on the chair to EARTH's right. EARTH stopped her. “I want Starbird to sit here,” he said. “You move one down.”

Europa made a big production of moving Eris's high chair toward her new seat. I took the chair to EARTH's right and Cham, who had reemerged from the basement for dinner, sat on his left. Throughout the meal, EARTH gave most of his attention to me. He asked me about Fern Moon, about my apprenticeship in the chicken coop, and about school. He asked me about the general mood on the Farm and how people had been behaving in his absence. I told him about the fistfight between Firmament Rise and Spring Meteor and how lots of people left us after that.

“Yes, I felt strongly that I had to leave the Farm for a while. Like the storm that shakes the tree and loosens all the dead limbs, the Farm needed to lose some non-Believers,” said EARTH. “You're one of our true Believers, aren't you, Starbird?” EARTH's eyes seemed to open the door to my thoughts and walk right in.

“Yes,” I said, but it didn't sound the way it had sounded when I said that in the past. “Yes,” I said again, inserting more conviction.

“Good.” EARTH patted my hand. “I'm going to need you in the exciting days to come. But first, I've got something I need to tell you.”

EARTH put down his fork, so I put mine down, too. He leaned closer to me, his blue eyes losing the reflection of the candlelight and turning dark. His voice quieted so no one else at the table could hear.

“I wasn't able to locate your brother,” he whispered, taking one of my small hands into both of his large ones. My hand felt protected and safe in the space made by his. “We looked for him, in California and Oregon. We asked for news from all the travelers we met. Then Mars heard some rumors.” EARTH sighed and his eyes flicked away to the candles and then back. Could he feel my heart beating through my hand?