Need for Anonymity as a Teen: Albee's Finding the Sun

Monologue from the play “Find the Sun” by Edward Albee (1983)

Fergus, a sixteen year old, the youngest character in the ensemble

If you think it’s easy being my age, well . . . you have another think [sic] coming, as they say. A New England boyhood isn’t all peaches and cream, maple syrup and russet autumns. I know it sounds pretty good -- wealthy mother and all, private school, WASP education. ASP, to be precise. Are there any black Anglo-Saxons? It all sounds pretty nice, and it is. I’m not complaining; it’s nice . . . but it isn’t always easy. Being corrupted, for example, now that’s important to a young fellow. Whether he takes advantage of it or not. The corrupting influences really should be there; all you should have to do is turn a corner and there you are, all laid out for you, so to speak -- fornication, drugs, stealing, whatever; it should be there. But if you live in Grovers Corners, or wherever, pop. fifteen hundred and thirty-three, it isn’t easy to come by. You have to . . . search it out. Oh, there’s the grocer’s youngish widow with the blinds always drawn and the come-hither look, and the mildly retarded girl in the ninth grade has some habits would make a pro blush, and the florist with the dyed hair and the funny walk and the mustache for those inclined that way, or at least want to try it. These things are to be had in a small town, but not without the peril of observation and revelation. What’s missing, I suppose , is . . . anonymity. And there are after all, some things we’d rather do in private -- at least until we’re practiced -- do them well. The lack of anonymity: Well, in a small New England town, if your family’s been there eight hundred years, or whatever, and you’re “gentry,” and you’re bright and your mother practically sends out announcements saying you’re bright and destined for “great things” well then . . . it’s not the same, the nice same, as being able to get it all together behind the barn, so to speak, and then coming out all rehearsed and “ready.” “I hear you’re getting all A’s, Fergus; good for you!” “Your mother says you’ve decided on Harvard, young fella; well, I hope they’ve decided on you, ha, ha, ha!” Lordy! Even when I was tiny; “Took his first step, did he!?” “Potty trained is he? Good for him!” Royalty must have it worse, or the children of the very famous. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life - if I want to do anything. . . .”