"I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy." --John Adams, letter to Abigail Adams, 1780
(Setting: The cozy fireside in the Adams’ sitting room, Boston, Massachusetts. For some reason, John Adams is stationed here with a book, across from wife, Abigail, instead of performing his diplomatic duties in France or the Netherlands.)
Abigail (looking up from her crewel work): What are you reading, John?
John (has to scroll back to the cover to read the title): Hmph. Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun by Wes Roberts. On my Nook.
Abigail: Whatever for, dear?
John (sighing): Well, Abigail, I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy.
Abigail: No, no, I mean, why on a Nook? What happened to your Kindle?
John: I accidentally dropped it in the toilet. I don’t know if it works or not. I just don’t want to touch it.
Abigail: Don’t tell me it’s still in the toilet.
John: Well, *I* didn’t take it out.
(Abigail rings for servant. Enter Sophie.)
Abigail: Sophie, would you check the loo for an electronic device that Mr. Adams seems to have deposited there accidentally?
Sophie: I was making dinner, ma’am. Do you really want me to fish around in the toilet? Possibly Mr. Adams could check it himself.
John: Certainly not. And I don’t see why, on one of my few free evenings at home, I may not be allowed to read uninterrupted. I could always go to the Lodge, you know.
Abigail: I’m sorry, dear. You’re in a snit. Sophie, get Mr. Adams the decanter.
John: Thomas Jefferson is undoubtedly spending a peaceful night at home. I’ll pour it, Sophie. You get back to the kitchen.
(Sophie exits.)
Abigail: You mustn’t keep comparing yourself to Mr. Jefferson. It will make you crazy, John.
John: Crazy? That ship has sailed, Abby. And Thomas Jefferson launched it on its maiden voyage with one mighty tap of a bottle called the Declaration of Independence.
(Enter John Quincy Adams, son, age 13.)
Abigail: Have you finished your homework, dear?
JQ: Yes, Mother.
Abigail: And it was...?
JQ: An essay on the Founding Father I admire most.
Abigail: That would be your father, of course.
JQ: Oh! No. Hmm. That never occurred to me. I wrote about Thomas Jefferson.
John (to Abigail): You see?
JQ: Jefferson *did* write the Declaration of Independence.
John: He probably wrote it when he was drunk.
Abigail: All the greater an accomplishment. (John glares at her.) Oh! Sorry, dear.
JQ: I wouldn’t know what to write about you, Dad. Your nose is always in a book.
John: (emphatically) Yes, well, I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy! Jumping Jupiter’s b*lls!
(Enter Charles, son, age 10, holding a dripping object.)
Chas: Look what I found, Mummy!
Abigail: Shame on you, Charles. This is a brand new carpet.
(She rises to shoo the errant boy out of the sitting room, then rings for Sophie. Meanwhile, John Quincy finds a dry spot by the fire to sort baseball cards. His father returns to his reading. Enter Sophie, with a mop.)
(Setting: The cozy fireside in the Adams’ sitting room, Boston, Massachusetts. For some reason, John Adams is stationed here with a book, across from wife, Abigail, instead of performing his diplomatic duties in France or the Netherlands.)
Abigail (looking up from her crewel work): What are you reading, John?
John (has to scroll back to the cover to read the title): Hmph. Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun by Wes Roberts. On my Nook.
Abigail: Whatever for, dear?
John (sighing): Well, Abigail, I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy.
Abigail: No, no, I mean, why on a Nook? What happened to your Kindle?
John: I accidentally dropped it in the toilet. I don’t know if it works or not. I just don’t want to touch it.
Abigail: Don’t tell me it’s still in the toilet.
John: Well, *I* didn’t take it out.
(Abigail rings for servant. Enter Sophie.)
Abigail: Sophie, would you check the loo for an electronic device that Mr. Adams seems to have deposited there accidentally?
Sophie: I was making dinner, ma’am. Do you really want me to fish around in the toilet? Possibly Mr. Adams could check it himself.
John: Certainly not. And I don’t see why, on one of my few free evenings at home, I may not be allowed to read uninterrupted. I could always go to the Lodge, you know.
Abigail: I’m sorry, dear. You’re in a snit. Sophie, get Mr. Adams the decanter.
John: Thomas Jefferson is undoubtedly spending a peaceful night at home. I’ll pour it, Sophie. You get back to the kitchen.
(Sophie exits.)
Abigail: You mustn’t keep comparing yourself to Mr. Jefferson. It will make you crazy, John.
John: Crazy? That ship has sailed, Abby. And Thomas Jefferson launched it on its maiden voyage with one mighty tap of a bottle called the Declaration of Independence.
(Enter John Quincy Adams, son, age 13.)
Abigail: Have you finished your homework, dear?
JQ: Yes, Mother.
Abigail: And it was...?
JQ: An essay on the Founding Father I admire most.
Abigail: That would be your father, of course.
JQ: Oh! No. Hmm. That never occurred to me. I wrote about Thomas Jefferson.
John (to Abigail): You see?
JQ: Jefferson *did* write the Declaration of Independence.
John: He probably wrote it when he was drunk.
Abigail: All the greater an accomplishment. (John glares at her.) Oh! Sorry, dear.
JQ: I wouldn’t know what to write about you, Dad. Your nose is always in a book.
John: (emphatically) Yes, well, I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy! Jumping Jupiter’s b*lls!
(Enter Charles, son, age 10, holding a dripping object.)
Chas: Look what I found, Mummy!
Abigail: Shame on you, Charles. This is a brand new carpet.
(She rises to shoo the errant boy out of the sitting room, then rings for Sophie. Meanwhile, John Quincy finds a dry spot by the fire to sort baseball cards. His father returns to his reading. Enter Sophie, with a mop.)