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Upton Sinclair >> The Naturewoman
MRS. MASTERSON. It is storming outside, Anna.
OCEANA. Yes, but one can exercise and keep warm. just a minute . . .
please. [She flings up a window; a gale blows in.] Ah, feel that!
[MRS. MASTERSON, LETITIA and DR. MASTERSON draw away from the window.]
MRS. MASTERSON. This is simply outrageous!
LETITIA. It is beyond all words!
DR. MASTERSON. My dear, consider . . .
MRS. MASTERSON. I won't have that creature in my house a minute
longer.
DR. MASTERSON. My dear, be reasonable!
LETITIA. REASONABLE?
DR. MASTERSON. Consider what is at stake!
MRS. MASTERSON. But what hope have we to get anything out of such a
woman?
DR. MASTERSON. We have some hope, I'm sure. If we . . .
MRS. MASTERSON. Didn't you hear her say she'd come home for nothing
but the money?
DR. MASTERSON. Yes . . . but at least she's honest enough to say it,
Sophronia. And she's here as our guest . . . she wants to be friendly
. . . don't let it come to an open break with her!
LETITIA. But how can we HELP it, father?
DR. MASTERSON. It's just a matter of letting her talk. And what harm
will that do us?
MRS. MASTERSON. But we can't lock her up in the house. And can we
introduce her to our friends? Tomorrow night, for instance!
DR. MASTERSON. We must manage it somehow. When we've once had an
understanding with her, it won't take long to get the papers signed,
and after that we won't care. Control yourself, Sophronia, I implore
you! Don't let your prejudices ruin us!
ETHEL. [Steals to them, in agitation.] Mother, CAN'T you be good to
her? You don't understand her at all.
MRS. MASTERSON. [Coldly.] Thank you, Ethel . . .
ETHEL. [To FREDDY, who joins them.] Can't you say something to them,
Freddy? They treat her so badly.
FREDDY. They hate her, Ethel! They couldn't understand her.
[OCEANA takes deep breaths, expelling them in short, sharp puffs.]
LETITIA. What in the world are you doing?
OCEANA. That's one of the Yogi exercises. Haven't any of you studied
the Vedantas?
LETITIA. We are all Episcopalians here, Oceana.
OCEANA. Oh, I see!
[She takes a deep breath and then pounds her chest like a gorilla.]
MRS. MASTERSON. And pray, what is THAT?
OCEANA. I'm just getting some of the civilization out of my lungs.
[A furious gale blows.]
MRS. MASTERSON. Really, my dear, we shall have to leave the room.
We'll all catch our death of cold.
OCEANA. My dear Aunt Sophronia, nobody ever caught a cold from winter
air. Colds come from over-eating and bad ventilation. [She closes the
window.] However, there you are! [Eagerly.] Now, let's have something
beautiful - so that I can forget my blunders. Let's have some music.
Will you play for me, Cousin Letitia?
LETITIA. I don't play, my dear.
OCEANA. What? Why, father told me you played all the time!
LETITIA. That was before my marriage.
OCEANA. Oh, I see! [Laughs.] The music has accomplished its purpose!
[Stops, alarmed.] Oh! I've done it again! [Goes to LETITIA.] My dear
cousin, believe me, I meant no offense. I'm never personal. I was
simply formulating a principle of sociology!
MRS. MASTERSON. You have strange ways, my dear niece.
DR. MASTERSON. Are you always so direct, so ruthless?
OCEANA. That's the word, isn't it? That's what father taught me. Never
to think about personalities . . . to go after the truth! He used to
quote that saying of Nietzsche's: "To hunger after knowledge as the
lion for his food!"
MRS. MASTERSON. Oh, you read Nietzsche, do you? How could you get such
books?
OCEANA. We had a government steamer from New Zealand three times a
year, you know. That brought our mail.
MRS. MASTERSON. And your father permitted you to read these improper
things?
OCEANA. My father taught me to face the facts of my being. My father
was a fighter, you know.
MRS. MASTERSON. [Grimly.] Yes, I knew that.
OCEANA. Life had hurt him. Some day you must tell me about it . . .
what it was that happened to him here in Boston. He never would talk
about it, but I've often wondered. It must have been my mother. What
did she do to him before she died? [She pauses, expecting an answer.]
Was it that she was just conventional like you? [She pauses again.] It
must have been something dreadful . . . he felt so keenly about it. He
burned it into my very soul . . . his fear of civilization. And here I
am . . . right in the midst of it . . . I'm letting it get its claws
into me! I'm wearing its clothes . . . [She tears at them.] I'm
breathing its air! I don't believe I can stand it! [She paces the room
restlessly.] My soul is suffocating, as well as my body. I must have
something to remind me of the sky, and the open sea, and the great
spaces. I must go back again to my home, to my island! [Stretches out
her arms to them appealingly.] Ah, can't some of you understand about
it? Can't some of you take pity on me? It's so strange to me . . . so
different from everything I've been used to! Aunt Sophronia!
MRS. MASTERSON. [Takes a step reluctantly.] My dear!
ETHEL. [Springing forward.] No! No! They don't understand! They don't
really care.
MRS. MASTERSON. Ethel!
OCEANA. But you! Ethel!
ETHEL. [Rushes and flings herself at OCEANA'S feet, clutching her
dress.] Take me with you! Take me away to your island!
OCEANA. [Turning to FREDDY.] And you . . . won't you be my friend?
FREDDY. [Goes to her.] I will! [She holds out her hand to him; he
hesitates, gazing at her awe-stricken.] May I . . . may I take your
hand?
OCEANA. Why certainly!
FREDDY. [With fervor.] Oceana!
[CURTAIN]
ACT II
SCENE: Same as Act I.
[At rise: DR. MASTERSON in easy-chair near the window; opens
newspaper, sighs, wipes glasses, prepares to read.]
MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters with LETITIA.] Well!
DR. MASTERSON. Home, are you?
MRS. MASTERSON. Yes! And such a day!
LETITIA. Shopping with Oceana!
DR. MASTERSON. Humph!
MRS. MASTERSON. Imagine buying clothes for a woman who won't squeeze
her waist, and won't let her skirts touch the ground!
DR. MASTERSON. Why didn't you take her to the men's department?
LETITIA. Don't make a joke of it, father.
DR. MASTERSON. How did you make out?
MRS. MASTERSON. Well, we've got her so the police won't molest her.
LETITIA. We told Madame Clarice her trunks had been misplaced in the
steamer hold.
DR. MASTERSON. Ingenious!
MRS. MASTERSON. Yes! Only she spoiled it all by telling the truth!
DR. MASTERSON. Where is she now?
MRS. MASTERSON. She's walking . . . she says she must have exercise.
LETITIA. The air in the limousine is close, it seems,
DR. MASTERSON. You got something she could wear to-night?
MRS. MASTERSON. Oh, yes, that part's all right. If I could only have
selected the things she's going to SAY to-night!
[A pause.]
DR. MASTERSON. Well, and what are the signs?
MRS. MASTERSON. I don't know. I can't read her at all.
DR. MASTERSON. You haven't broached the subject yet?
MRS. MASTERSON. Not definitely. I've hinted at it. I said we were
worried about the future of Freddy and Ethel.
DR. MASTERSON. And what did she say to that?
MRS. MASTERSON. She said that she'd take care of them, if I'd let her.
DR. MASTERSON. Why . . . that's promising.
MRS. MASTERSON. So I thought . . . till I found she meant taking them
off to the South Seas!
DR. MASTERSON. Oh!
MRS. MASTERSON. I thought I'd wait till to-night . . . after the
dancing. You see, she'll have met some company, and I thought she
might be feeling more . . . more genial.
DR. MASTERSON. I understand. A good idea.
LETITIA. Miss Pilkington ought to put her in a good mood.
MRS. MASTERSON. She's passionately fond of fancy dancing, it seems.
And Ethel's been writing her about to-night, so she's quite excited
about it.
DR. MASTERSON. I see.
LETITIA. People are wildly jealous of us because we got Miss
Pilkington to come here. Everybody's talking about it.
MRS. MASTERSON. You haven't heard any criticisms, I hope?
LETITIA. Nothing that amounts to anything.
MRS. MASTERSON. I wish I could feel comfortable about it. It seems so
very daring. It's been only seven months since the funeral. To be sure
. . . father and I hadn't spoken for ten years.
DR. MASTERSON. And everybody knows the entertainment is for charity.
LETITIA. And we've only asked the very best people.
DR. MASTERSON. And the date was arranged over a year ago.
LETITIA. And it isn't as if we were going to dance ourselves, mother.
And then they are "Biblical Dances," too.
MRS. MASTERSON. I know - I know. But then, the world is so quick to
gossip. They might say we were doing it because he left his fortune to
a girl in the Cannibal Islands!
DR. MASTERSON. Perhaps it's just as well the girl's to be here.
MRS. MASTERSON. Yes, if we can keep her within bounds. I shall be on
pins and needles till it's over.
LETITIA. Such a white elephant in one's home!
MRS. MASTERSON. And then the way Freddy and Ethel are behaving!
LETITIA. Freddy wanted to stay from college and Ethel from her music
lesson - both of them to go and sit around in the stores while Oceana
bought clothes!
DR. MASTERSON. Well, of all things!
MRS. MASTERSON. I hardly know Ethel any more!
LETITIA. And Freddy sits around and stares at her like a man out of
his wits!
MRS. MASTERSON. That'll be the next thing, I suppose . . . she'll run
off and marry him!
DR. MASTERSON. Well, mightn't that be a good way to solve the problem?
To keep the money in the family?
MRS. MASTERSON. Ouincy!
LETITIA. Besides--she mightn't marry him.
MRS. MASTERSON. Letitia!
LETITIA. Why not, mother?
MRS. MASTERSON. I'm sure, my child, you have no reason for saying
anything like THAT.
LETITIA. I don't trust the minx!
[A pause.]
DR. MASTERSON. Has Henry got home?
LETITIA. He's probably there now.
MRS. MASTERSON. Is he coming here to dinner?
LETITIA. I'm not sure.
MRS. MASTERSON. You'd better take my advice and not let him.
LETITIA. Why not?
MRS. MASTERSON. Because, the first thing you know, we'll have Henry in
love with her, too.
LETITIA. [Horrified.] MOTHER!
MRS. MASTERSON. I mean it, my dear--quite seriously. What's the
meaning of all this discontent of Henry's? I know him well enough . .
. he's just the man to be taken in by the tricks of such a woman!
SHE'D give him plenty of outdoor exercise! SHE'D go live in the
country with him!
LETITIA. [Springing up.] Mother! How horrible!
MRS. MASTERSON. Forewarned is forearmed, Letitia. You listen to me,
and let Henry see just as little of Anna Talbot as you can. And when
he's with her, you be there, too.
LETITIA. [In great agitation.] I'll go home right now and see to him!
[Exit.]
DR. MASTERSON. [Sighs.] Oh, dear! And I was waiting for Henry to play
billiards with!
MRS. MASTERSON. You might get Anna to play billiards with you. No
doubt she's an expert.
[Exit right.]
[DR. MASTERSON sighs, shakes his head, and resumes reading.]
OCEANA. [Enters, radiant, clad in an ermine cloak.] Well, Uncle
Quincy!
DR. MASTERSON. Oceana! Bless me! How gorgeous!
OCEANA. [Takes it off and throws it on the chair.] It's really too
warm for walking.
DR. MASTERSON. I should have thought, coming from a tropical climate .
. .
OCEANA. Ah, but my blood circulates, you see. [Sits opposite him.]
Uncle Quincy, I want to have a talk with you.
DR. MASTERSON. Yes, my dear?
OCEANA. Uncle Quincy, why do you let Aunt Sophronia and Letitia
frighten you the way they do?
DR. MASTERSON. My dear girl!
OCEANA. Take yesterday afternoon, for instance - what I said about
syphilis. You know I was right, and yet you didn't dare say so.
DR. MASTERSON. Really, Oceana . . .
OCEANA. You are an educated man - a man of science. You know what
modern ideas are. And yet you consent to be walked all over!
DR. MASTERSON. My dear . . .
OCEANA. Here are these women . . . they have leisure and opportunity .
. . they ought to be doing some good in the world. And yet they
haven't an idea except to act as other people think they ought to act!
DR. MASTERSON. Dear me! Dear me!
[Rises and begins to pace the room.]
OCEANA. Don't run away from me.
DR. MASTERSON. I'm not running away. But you are so disconcerting,
Oceana . . .
OCEANA. I know; but that's only because you know that what I say is
true, and you don't like to feel that anybody else knows it.
FREDDY. [Off.] Oceana!
OCEANA. Freddy!
FREDDY. [Enters.] Oh! Father's here!
OCEANA. Yes; we were having a chat.
FREDDY. [Hesitates.] Father, will you excuse me, please . . . I have
something very important to say to Oceana. I've been waiting for her.
DR. MASTERSON. Why . . . what . . .
FREDDY. Don't ask me, please. I must have a talk with her right away.
Please come, Oceana.
OCEANA. All right.
DR. MASTERSON. I was going to the billiard-room, anyway. Pray excuse
me.
[Exit centre.]
OCEANA. [Smiles.] See him run! Well, Freddy, what is it?
FREDDY. [Intensely.] Oceana!
OCEANA. What's the matter?
FREDDY. You mustn't stay here!
OCEANA. Why not?
FREDDY. They'll ruin you, Oceana! They'll crush you, they'll spoil you
forever! You must go away!
OCEANA. Why, my dear boy, how can they hurt me?
FREDDY. They will, they will! I've been thinking about it all day! I
didn't go to college . . . I spent the whole day pacing the streets.
OCEANA. Why, Freddy!
FREDDY. And I want you to come away! Come away with me! I want you . .
. [Wildly.] . . . I want you to marry me!
OCEANA. [Aghast.] Why, Freddy!
FREDDY. Oh, I know it's a fool way . . . to blurt it out at you like
that. I thought up a hundred ways to say it to you. I had a fine
speech all by heart, but I can't remember a word of it. When I see you
I can't even think straight. I'm simply beside myself . . . I can't
rest, I can't sleep, I can't do anything. I used to laugh at such
ideas, but now I'm frightened at myself. Can't you understand me,
Oceana? Oceana . . . I love you!
OCEANA. [Whispers.] My poor boy!
FREDDY. I don't ask you to say yes . . . I just ask you to give me a
chance . . . a hope. If I thought I might win you, I'd do anything . .
. anything! I'd wait for you . . . I'd work for you . . . I'd worship
you! Oceana! [He stops.] May I . . . May I take your hand? [She does
not give it.] Ah, no! I have no right! Oceana, listen to me! I have
thought that I was in love before . . . but it was just childish, it
was nothing like this. This has been a revelation to me . . . it makes
all the world seem different to me. And just see how suddenly it's
come . . . why, yesterday I was a boy! Yesterday I thought some things
were interesting . . . and to-day I wonder how I could have cared
about them. Nothing seems the same to me. And it all happened at once,
it was like an explosion . . . the first instant I laid eyes on you I
knew that you were the one woman I could ever love. And I said to
myself, she will laugh at you.
[He hesitates.]
OCEANA. No, I won't laugh at you.
FREDDY. I tried to keep it to myself, but I couldn't . . . not if I
were to be hanged for it. I'm just . . . just torn out of myself. I'm
trembling with delight, and then I'm plunged into despair, and then I
stop to think and I'm terrified. For I don't know what I can do.
Everything in my life is gone -- I won't know how to live if you send
me away.
OCEANA. [Gravely.] Freddy, come sit down here. Be rational now.
FREDDY. Yes.
[He sits watching her, in a kind of daze.]
OCEANA. In the first place, Freddy . . . you must understand, it isn't
the first time this has happened to me.
FREDDY. No, I suppose not.
OCEANA. The officers of the ships always used to fall in love with me.
There were three on this last steamer.
FREDDY. Yes.
OCEANA. You say to marry you. But it's difficult for me to imagine
myself marrying any man, no matter how much I loved him. One has to
make so many promises, you know.
FREDDY. How do you mean?
OCEANA. You have to "love, honor and obey."
FREDDY. But, Oceana! That's a mere form.
OCEANA. No, no. It's written in the laws. All kinds of things . . .
people don't realize it.
FREDDY. But surely . . . if you love a man . . . a decent man . . .
OCEANA. No decent man ought to ask a woman to sign away her self-
respect.
FREDDY. [Bewildered.] But then . . . then . . . what would you do?
OCEANA. [Watches him, then laughs to herself.] Boston is such a funny
place!
FREDDY. Hey?
OCEANA. Let us leave marriage out now . . . let us talk of love.
Realize how much more serious it is to a woman than it is to a man. A
man meets a woman and he finds her beautiful, and his blood begins to
boil, and he says: "I adore you." And so she gives herself to him; and
then, the next morning, he goes off and forgets all about it.
FREDDY. No, no!
OCEANA. I don't say you, Freddy. But it's happened that way. The
woman, though . . . she doesn't forget. She carries a reminder. And
it's not only that she has the burden of the child . . . the anguish
of the birth . . . the task of suckling and rearing it. It's that she
has a miniature of the man with her all the rest of her days. She has
his soul there . . . blended with the thing she loves most of all in
the world. And so, don't you see how careful she has to be, how
desperately important the thing is to her? [She sits lost in thought.]
I have never been in love, Freddy, not the least little bit. I have
never felt that call in my blood. But some day I shall feel it; and
when I do, I shall take that man as if before a court of judgment. I
shall take him away with me. I shall ask myself not merely, "Is he
beautiful and strong of body?" but, "Is he beautiful and strong in
soul?" I would not ask that he be learned . . . he might not chance to
be a cultured man. But he would be a man of power, he would be a man
who could rule himself, he would be a soul without base alloy. And
when I had satisfied myself as to that, I would have found my mate. I
would say to him, "I wish you to be the father of my child." [She sits
again, brooding.] I would not exact pledges of him. I would say to
him, "I do not ask you to take care of me; I do not ask you to take
care of my child. You may go away when you wish . . . that rests with
you; but _I_ wish the child." [She pauses.] Do you see?
FREDDY. Yes, I see. [He gazes at her, frightened.] And you . . . you
do not feel that way about me?
OCEANA. Not the least little bit, Freddy.
FREDDY. And if I waited ever so long?
OCEANA. I do not believe that I should ever feel it, [She puts her
hand upon his arm.] My dear, dear boy! Learn to look at it as I do.
Face it like a man. It is one of those things that we cannot help . .
. that we do not even understand. It is the chemistry of sex; it is
Nature's voice speaking to us. It means no disgrace to you that I do
not love you . . . it means no inferiority, no defeat. It is the
signal that Nature gives us, that we wait for, and dare not disregard.
You dare not ask me to disregard it! [He is gazing into her eyes like
one entranced.] You must let me teach you . . . you must let me help
you. You must not let this mean misery and despair. Take hold of
yourself. Perhaps you and Ethel can go back with me to my island . . .
for I think that I am going. [He continues to gaze at her, speechless
with admiration. She presses his arm.] Now promise me.
FREDDY. What?
OCEANA. That you will be a man.
[They gaze into each other's eyes.]
ETHEL. [Off.] Oceana!
OCEANA. Here is your sister. Let us not trouble her. [Aloud.] Ethel!
ETHEL. [Enters in street costume.] Oh, here you are! And your new
clothes!
OCEANA. Do you like me?
ETHEL. No, they don't belong to you!
OCEANA. [Laughs.] Well, I shan't wear them long.
ETHEL. What are you going to do?
OCEANA. I'm going to design some for myself.
ETHEL. What kind?
OCEANA. I don't know yet. But it'll be something that will leave my
legs outside.
ETHEL. And did you get something beautiful for tonight?
OCEANA. I got something that will do.
ETHEL. Oceana, when am I to see the dance?
OCEANA. I told you, when I have my costume.
ETHEL. But when will that be?
OCEANA. When my trunks have come.
FREDDY. They came this afternoon.
OCEANA. Oh! Then we'll have it to-morrow morning! And I'll show you my
beautiful bridal-robe.
FREDDY. Bridal-robe?
OCEANA. Yes. Didn't I tell you? It was made for me by one of our
King's sons. His name was Paukopi . . . that means, in our language,
"Child of the Sea Foam." And he was in love with me.
ETHEL. Oh!
OCEANA. He was very sad and went away by himself. But he was a man . .
. he did not go to pieces. [She looks at FREDDY.] He went into the
forest and spent his time hunting wild birds; and he gathered their
feathers and made them into this gorgeous robe . . . purple and gold
and green and scarlet. He brought it and laid it at my feet, and said
that it was my bridal-robe, that I must wear it at my feast.
ETHEL. Oh, how lovely!
FREDDY. [Rises and turns away in despair.] Oh!
ETHEL. Tell me a little about the Sunrise Dance.
OCEANA. It represents the worship of Nature. It portrays an awakening
from slumber . . . you know the soft part of the music at the
beginning . . .
ETHEL. Yes.
OCEANA. Then gradually I rise to my feet and gaze towards the light.
There is the sun shining upon the waves of the sea, and upon the palm
branches. All life is awakening and singing for joy . . . and so the
music rises to an ecstasy.
ETHEL. And do you dance other things?
OCEANA. Oh, yes - lots of things.
ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! I'm just wild to see you!
OCEANA. And I'm wild to dance. I must have some vent pretty soon. You
see, at home I was out of doors all the time. I hunted and fished, I
swam and dived, I danced on the beach. And here . . . why, I walk down
the street, and I daren't even so much as sing out loud. I have to
remember that I'm a young lady, and have an ermine cloak on! Truly, I
don't see how you ever stand it!
ETHEL. We were brought up that way.
OCEANA. Yes; and that's why you're undeveloped and frail. But tell me,
don't you ever have an impulse to play? That beautiful snow out there
- don't you want to tumble round in it and pelt each other with
snowballs?
FREDDY. We did that when we were children.
OCEANA. Yes, that's the way. But I, you see . . . I'm a child still;
and I expect to be always.
ETHEL. And are you always happy, Oceana?
OCEANA. Always.
ETHEL. You never . . . you never even start to feel sad?
OCEANA. Why yes, now and then. But I don't permit such moods. You see,
I have the conviction that there is nothing beautiful or right about
sorrow - never, under any circumstances.
ETHEL. You mean you would not mourn, even if some one you loved were
to die?
OCEANA. I mean that I did not. [She pauses.] Yes, exactly . . . my
father. He had been my life's companion, and they brought him home
drowned; and yet I did not mourn.
ETHEL. Oceana!
OCEANA. I had trained myself . . . for just that. We had made
ourselves what you might call soul-exercises; little ceremonies to
remind ourselves of things we wished to hold by. The Sunrise Dance was
one of those. And then, on the last day of each month, at sunset, we
would sit and watch the shadows fade, and contemplate death. [She
pauses, gravely.] We would say to ourselves that we, too, were shadows
. . . rainbows in the sea-mist; that we held our life as a gift . . .
we carried it in our hands, ready to give it up when we heard the
call. [A pause.]
HENRY. [Opens door centre and enters. Sees OCEANA and halts.] Oh!
OCEANA. [Turns and sees him.] Why! Here's a man! [They gaze at each
other, transfixed.] Ethel! Who is he?
ETHEL. Why, this is Henry. Letitia's husband.
OCEANA. Oh! Letitia's husband! [With a sudden, frank gesture, putting
out her hand.] Henry!
HENRY. Oceana!
[As their hands meet, they stand looking into each other's faces.]
OCEANA. [Gripping his hand tightly.] You are strong! [Looks at his
hand.] And you do not smoke, either! Let me see your eyes.
HENRY. [Perplexed.] My eyes?
OCEANA. Your eyes. [Turns him toward the light; studies his eyes.]
They dosed you with quinine! Malaria, I suppose?
HENRY. Why . . . yes. But how can you tell?
OCEANA. I can tell many things. Let me see your tongue.
HENRY. [Bewildered.] My tongue?
OCEANA. Your tongue.
HENRY. But what for?
OCEANA. I can tell more about a man by looking at his tongue for a
minute than by listening to it for a week.
HENRY. But, Oceana -
OCEANA. I am in earnest.
HENRY. [Laughs.] Why . . . really . . .
OCEANA. Are you afraid?
HENRY. Good heavens, no!
OCEANA. Put it out. [He pats his tongue out and she examines it.] So!
A man with a red tongue! And in a civilized city!
HENRY. Oughtn't it to be red?
OCEANA. And he doesn't know what it ought to be! How delicious! [She
steps back from him.] And so you are Letitia's husband. Tell me, are
you happy with her?
HENRY. [Startled; stares at her intently.] No, no . . . you ought not
to ask me that.
OCEANA. Why not?
HENRY. [In a low voice.] Because you know.
OCEANA. Yes, that's true. [A pause; she changes the subject.] I have
heard my father speak of you often.
HENRY. He remembered me, did he? I was only twenty when he went away.
OCEANA. He said that he taught you to play single-stick.
HENRY. Ah yes, to be sure!
OCEANA. He taught me also.