Whether it’s sunny or not, it’s sure
To be enormously complex–
Trees or streets outdoors, indoors whoever you share,
And yourself, thirsty, hungry, washing,
An attitude towards sex.
No wonder half of you wants to stay
With your head dark and wishing
Rather than take it all on again:
Weren’t you duped yesterday?
Things are not orderly here, no matter what they say.
But the clock goes off, if you have a dog
It wags, if you get up now you’ll be less
Late. Life is some kind of loathsome hag
Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful.
Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss
And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice,
Like a big fake garnet, in your hand.
Cranberry juice! You’re luck, on the whole,
But there is a great deal about it you don’t understand.
Ultimately, then, Jayber does not keep faith with a place strictly speaking, but with a way of life embedded in a place. And so his loyalty is not transferrable to any party which happens to live in the geographic location once called Port William. Rather, his loyalty is to the way of life that the old Port William allowed to grow and thrive, that shaped people for generations, people whose loves and affections were molded to the life of that small place. Thus there is, in this call to keep faith with Port William, a call to resist those who would threaten it. If those devoted to the old ways of Christendom are to be of any use to the thing they wish to keep faith with, their churches and the commonwealth generally speaking, then they must come to understand this close relationship between fidelity and resistance.