We ain’t got it so bad, now do we? Part 9.

Part 9.

We left the boys setting around the evening meal campfire wondering if they should take the year around job offer at the Orange farm or move on in search of better opportunities up north. They’d heard hints of more employment up there from some of the other folks heading that way.

They awoke next morning groggy and tired. The sun’s rays had not quite touched the ground as they busied themselves with the fire.

“Damn!” Guy mumbled. “I feel like I didn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything.”

“Yup. Me too.” Lester said as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to clear them of the sticky night goo.

After getting the fire up and running and snuggling up close against the morning chill, Guy put the coffee pot on a flat rock next to the coals beginning to form to heat, while swatting the smoke away from his face.

“I went back and forth a dozen times last night about what we should do.” Lester started. “And never got anywheres close to deciding.”
”I know.” Guy said. “What the Orange farmer offered us is tempting for sure but is this where we want to settle down, or do we start off up north to see what else there is to this here California?”

The owner had given them a couple of days to think his offer over, so for the first time in weeks, they had a day to themselves with nothing pressing to do.

So after a hardy breakfast of eggs, fish, a flower pancake and what little oranges there were left, they decided to wander the encampment and see who hadn’t left to search out another job yet. In that way, they were able to chat with a bunch of like-minded folks who had found themselves in the same dire circumstances they were in. Same as Guy and Lester though, most of these folks had found work in the orange groves, so had a bit of coin for food and essentials, so were in a pretty good mood. It was at one of the camps bustling with the activity of packing everything up to move on that they heard the most enticing news. Seems these folks had heard of a town up north apiece called Bakersfield that had jobs aplenty. So they were hustling to get there fore everyone else, to get the best jobs available.

It was on the way back to their own camp, that Lester of a sudden slapped his knee and in a sudden burst of enthusiasm said. “Dag nabbit Guy. We gotta move on. I’m not ready to settle down yet. There’s a whole big old world out there and I wanna see some of it afor I gets to be an old man.”

“Whoa there little man.” Guy laughed.” You gotta bit of time afor your hair changes color.”

“I know. I know.” Lester said. “But I gotta itch on my backside needin tending and staying in the first place we found in this here California ain’t gonna scratch it.”

“Ok brother dear. So just where do you have in mind to find this scratching post you’re needin then?”

“I don’t know but lets just hitch up the old truck and head on north where folks are a saying things get better. Lets just head up there and see what we might find.”

By the time they made their way back to camp, it was decided. They would get all their stuff rounded up and loaded onto the truck, get good nights sleep, and then go tell the Orange farm owner their decision and hit the road in the morning.

As they found out, getting a good nights sleep was not in their fate. Having decided to move on added an excitement they hadn’t felt since when very young their Pop had taught them to ride Betsy, the old sway back mare, the family kept around for hauling stuff when the clunker tractor broke down.
Guy would forever remember old Betsy. He’d taught Betsy to rear up on her hind legs, which was fun until the day Guy sled off Betsy’s rear end and landed under the horses stomping feet. It took quite a piece afor guys chin resembled normal skin again and was the last time Guy had Betsy do the back leg dance again.

They figured they did finally get some sleep around the time the tree owls hooting turned to snores. In their excitement they woke with just enough dawn light to hustle the fire back to life and start the water for the blessed coffee.

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we? Part 8.

Part 8.

The men had been invited to the main ranch house for a meeting with the owner of the farm last we heard of them. They had no idea what he might want of them but it was worth a look see….

When they arrived at the ranch and invited in to the kitchen area, the owner’s wife said “Have a seat boys.” after all the introductions were done.

She was a sturdy woman of medium height and weight with a brightly colored cotton dress looking to be one of the store bought kind. The other women in the kitchen wore clearly home made clothing of a much rougher material, so Guy and Lester assumed by her general appearance she was hired help for the kitchen. By the ladies gentle friendly banter as they busied themselves in the kitchen, they figured she’d been there quite a while.

The owner was dressed in coveralls, clearly store bought, with pencils and paper sticking out of each built in pocket. He had the dry leather complexion of a man who’d spent his hard working life under the suns rays. He was setting at the table smoking a pipe and had a relaxed confident manner, which put them at ease immediately.

After the helper set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Guy and Lester with their thanks, Joe the owner, after tapping his pipe into an ashtray, then setting it down, started. “Well boys. I’m glad you could stop by. I’m a man of few words, so I’ll get straight to the point. You boys have been doin a mighty fine job here this season. Several of my men pointed that fact out to me.”

Seeing he was waiting for some kind of response, Guy Answered. “Why thank you sir. We were raised to always do a good job, no matter what it was, so you’ll have to credit our dad for that.”

“The fact is you’ve done such a fine job that I’d like to offer to keep you on during the off season to help with everything needs doing around here.”

That took Guy and Lester back a bit to be sure. It had been so long since they’d had real work, much less an offer of a long-term job, they didn’t know what to say.

After looking at each other with raised eyebrows, it was Lester who found his voice first. “Well sir, that is mighty fine of ya. We really hadn’t given much thought yet what we was going to do next.”

Then after another quick sidelong glance at Guy, who gave him a tiny nod to continue, he said. “You’ll have to give us a little time to think on that sir. We got some talking to do first.”

“Well,” Joe started as he reached across the table and grabbed a piece of paper, then after writing something on it and sliding it across the table toward them, he said. “Here’s what I can pay you each a day ifen you decide to stay. Of course you’ll have Sunday’s off for church and such.”

After they both tried their best to look casual after looking at the number he wrote without gasping like schoolboys just having heard yes for a date from the school cheerleader, Guy folded it and stuck it in his shirt pocket as if it was nothing.

Just as they wondered if the meeting was over, the helper placed a plate in front of them with the most delicious smelling pastry still warm from the oven they’d ever seen with a tiny mischievous smile.

Truth was, Lester was so shocked with the numbers and the pastry, he was setting there with his mouth open, not moving, like someone who’d lost their mind, until Guy gave him a wake up kick under the table, which elicited a little unexpected yelp.

They knew Joe had noticed because he dove into his pastry past a barely hidden smile with gusto.

As starved for real food as they were, it didn’t take them long to finish off the pastry, so after the owner shook their hands on the front porch, they took off walking back to camp. Even though the offer was something they never figured they’d see, they had some serious thinking to do.

It was oddly quiet back at camp. Most folks had packed up and moved on to wherever they figured they might find work now that the orange season was rapping up. Luckily California, with it’s unbelievably long growing season, had plenty of other crops in season or coming soon, having the most productive farming areas in the country.

One of the notable things that Guy and Lester noticed was the utter cleanliness of the river encampment. Folks would think with such utter poverty and gloom, the people would leave all their garbage behind for someone else to deal with. The truth was, these were proud people, raised to always tend to their own business, so every scrap of garbage, every tiny piece of paper had been cleaned up. Hell the very ground looked like it had been swept with a broom in most places. Even the orange peels had been buried sight unseen somewhere. The campfires so long established were watered out and smoothed over with fresh earth with nary a warm spot to cause trouble.

They weren’t in much of a hurry now, so they headed down to the river to catch some dinner and do a little talking. They had some decisions to make. Do they stay with a sure thing or move on hoping for something better?

As they sat on the riverbank watching the light slowly dim, they were caught up in the almost majestic interplay of nature. As always just as dusk laid its soft blanket on earth, the dragonflies would hover just inches above the waters edge. Then the fish with a small leap find their own substance hovering there within easy reach.

Soon as nature’s blanket lay true, and full darkness arrived, Guy and Lester took their catch back to camp and hustled up a fire to cook their evening meal.

As they watched with growing hunger the fish drip their greasy essences onto the embers below with dancing sizzles of smoke, Lester was the first to start. “Well brother. Whater we gonna do?”

“Damn ifen I know.” Guy quietly answered. “We got plenty of coin to last us a while now for sure, ifen we decide to move on a bit but having a sure thing at the orange farm is temptin. That’s a fact.”
”There’s that fur sure but I’ve a hankerin to move on and see what better we might find. This here California seems to be abustin with opportunities.”

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

 

 

Part 7.

 

 

We last left Guy and Lester languishing in a thing they’d only dreamed of in the past months. A place to bath and wash their ratty clothes.

Having been so long since any kind of bath, they were some of the last people to wander back into the camp to start a fire and enjoy the fish they’d caught.

Just as they were starting back, they passed what looked like two families who might have been related in some way; by the way they looked alike.

“Boys!” one of them spoke up as they were passing by. “Come. Set for a piece. We’d like to talk to you for a bit ifen you don’t mind.”

After glancing toward each other with a questioning raised eyebrow and shrugging their shoulders, Guy and Lester stepped over to stand by the groups.

“How can we be of help?” Lester asked after a moment of silence had passed.

“To tell you the truth boys, we heard some others talking about you helping them with a problem they had with their car and said you were right good at it. Ya see, one of our trucks just barely made it here a couple days ago. We was wondering if you might be able to take a look at it when you have time?”

 

“Well,” Guy started after a quick glance at Lester. “Being born and raised on a farm, we did pick up a little about mechanican. Our Dad is mighty handy with machinery and taught us a bit, so we could take a look but right now, we need to get back to camp for some eats and sleep. Today was a mighty long day.”

“Hey. No hurry boys. We’ll be here at least long enough to put together some money afor we move on.”

“Ok.” Lester said. “Show us where your camped and we’ll stop by when we can.”

That’s mighty fine of you boys. We thank you.”

 

So that’s the way the next couple of months went. Guy and Lester being such good workers with special skills handy from a farm, quickly moved up the ladder of responsibility until they were both made foreman. Guy was in charge of all the tractor operators and Lester became the head mechanic.

Before they knew it, the little jingle in their trousers turned into a heavy but welcome weight they were forced to deal with. So the lead foreman took them both into town when there was a break in the work to open up a savings account and deposit their hard earned cash in a safe place.

Truth was, in those times, they probably could have just hidden the money in their tent or buried it but Daddy didn’t raise no fools, so they did the right thing.

 

They not only found time in the mornings and evenings to fix the truck for the folks they’d met beside the river but when word got out, they started making extra money working on other peoples automobiles in the camp.

Having been raised with almost nothing the only thing they spent money on was a can of coffee and a few vegetables to supplement their ongoing diet of Fish, flour pancakes and of course Oranges.

That first cup of java was manna from heaven, boosting their morning energy levels nicely. Turned out other folks had a hankering for some coffee also, so in short order there was a new welcoming smell mixed with the campfire smoke drifting lazily throughout the camp.

Guy and Lester weren’t sure if it was just the coffee or the addition of food into the camp but most mornings now came with a fair amount of the morning noises, including laughter that normal humans, especially children make when their feeling well.

Some nights they were even hearing a lone harmonica singing a little happy tune or a guitar and singer off in the distance lamenting about lost love or some such.

 

With the Orange season coming to an end, the camp atmosphere started slowly changing from an encampment to a place full of the activity of folks packing up and moving on.

At the farm, things were thinning out each day. More and more folks were receiving their last coins and bidding farewell.

Because Guy and Lester had worked themselves into the upper ranks of employee’s there, the owners wanted to keep them on at least long enough to finish everything up. In fact one day the owner asked them to meet him in the main ranch house for a little talk.

The night before the meeting, they both spent extra time in the river scrubbing their clothes and bodies extra well to present themselves properly to the owners. With everyone’s rush to leave the camp, they’d even found a comb someone had dropped, so they were able to use it instead just their fingers to straighten out their normally unruly hair.

 

 

To be continued:

 

 

 

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

Part 6.

After finding a place to set up camp at the oakie encampment, they finally found sleep’s reprieve from the daemons seemingly always tugging at their ragged shirtsleeves.  

The next morning started at the crack of dawn. With everyone there badly in need of jobs, they were all interested in an early start. Guy woke with the cooking smells wafting through the encampment like flower essences straight from the heavens above. It had been so long since Guy and Lester had heard the sounds of pots and pans making the music of breakfast, Guy at first thought he had to be dreaming.

The nearby river’s bounty added the wonderful smells of fish frying in pans with the flour pancakes adding their own earthy aromas. Combined with the ever-present Orange essences, they both jerked awake to the rumbling of their stomachs as alarm clocks.

They hadn’t had time last night to do any fishing, so they set about starting a fire to cook some flour pancakes, while they dug into some of the Oranges they’d pilfered last night with the others. The truth was, the Oranges were so fresh, so naturally healthy, they couldn’t imagine becoming tired of them.

As they sat watching the bubbles slowly make their way through the flour on the pan, they first heard, then saw one of the close by campers walk up.

“Howdy boys.” The man greeted when he got within earshot.

“Well howdy backatcha sir.” Lester answered as he stood to greet the man. “My names Lester and this here.” He said pointing toward Guy who was also standing up. “Is Guy.”

“They call me slim.” The newcomer said. “On account of….” As he pointed down at his stick thin body and smiled. “But my real name be Jim. Jim Stevens.”

“Hi Slim.” Guy smiled back in greeting. “Lester and I are brothers and our last name be Huston.”

“I figured as much.” Slim said. “You look an awful lot alike.”

After exchanging a hardy handshake, Guy said. “Well, have a seat Slim. I’d offer you some coffee but we don’t have any. Would ya like a pancake?”

“No, no, I just had me a bite to eat. No, I saw you folks arrive last evening and figured you’d not have time to catch yourself some fish for breakfast, so I brought you a couple extras we had for ya.” He said as he untied a burlap sack from his rope belt and showed them two fine looking fish straight from the river.

“Now that is mighty fine of you sir.” Guy said with a hungry gleam in his eye.

“Slim! Please, just call me Slim, Guy.”

“Well we thank you Slim.” Lester said as he gathered the fish up and got out his knife to start the cleaning process.

That’s quite alright boys.” Slim smiled.  “Ifen you catch extras down at the river, maybe you could share some.”

“That we will Slim.” Guy smiled back. “That we will.”

 

Not long after they finished their heavenly breakfast and cleaned up, they joined a line of other men shuffling their way through the encampment heading toward the Orange groves to hopefully find work.

When they got to the Orange farm’s main barn, the folks there had a small table set up for the hopefuls to fill out a little paper work for a job.

After that, it was a simple matter of showing the work Forman the paperwork. Then he’d have a quick little talk to see what kind of skills they might possess, to help him decide what work he’d set each of them up with.

So within a very short period of time, Guy found himself driving tractors and Lester was assigned as a mechanic on the farm.

The nature of employment in those days were you were paid in cash at the end of each day, so after working from just after sunup to growing dusk, Guy and Lester again joined the other men now almost stumbling in their exhaustion to walk back to the encampment. Only now they each had a small cache of tinkling coins adding weight and hope to their bodies and souls.

The first thing they did when they arrived back at camp was to grab up a handful of dirty cloths and their fishing poles and gear and head off to the river to join others already there in various stages of washing cloths, themselves and fishing for their evening meal.

With the California weather being so perfect, even in the night, they like most folks out of necessity and a slight bit of decorum left their cloths on and sat on the stones up to their chests and let the slowly moving waters take care of the grime, sweat, blood and stains on their cloths and bodies.

For Guy and Lester, coming from a place almost completely devoid of water in any form, this was heaven on Earth.

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

Part 4 & 5

We last left Guy and Lester limping their way between tire patches across a part of America that had nothing but fear driven hate for these newcomer white trash from the southeast. Truth was, it was bad everywhere and the locals feared these lowlifes flooding the area would be taking their jobs. They figured they’d be willing to work for penny’s, so what little factories and business’s were still hiring would have no choice but to take advantage of that fact.

With fear being the kindling and fire of danger, it was only sheer luck that Guy and Lester finally one day stood at the border between Nevada and California in one piece and once more danced the dance of joy.

On the way west, they’d seen flyers telling of lots of jobs on the farms in California, so that’s where they headed. Compared to coming across the country, California seemed such a busy place with less chances to use their special gasoline device and they were running mighty low on fuel now, so they had to find some way to make money soon.

It was such a slow arduous trip across the country that it was early 1932 before they arrived in what they were now considering the promise land. As they traveled on highway 99, they saw vast green fields planted with every description of vegetable crops and mile and after mile of fruit and nut trees planted in rows so straight, their eye couldn’t begin to see the end of them.

Also, they saw men and women tilling the soil, planting, pruning, driving tractors and toiling in the fields by the hundreds, which only increased the growling in their stomachs along with the hope in their souls.

One of the discerning things they noticed while driving by the fields were the folks in small lines waiting for work, a testament to how many people were there for the available jobs. They suspected this would be the case but could only hope their timing was such, they could get in on the beginning of the job rush just starting from out east.

Just south of Los Angeles they saw their chance at a job with mile after mile of Orange groves on both sides of Highway 99 as far as their eyes could see in every direction. Once again they saw hundreds of field hands hustling the oranges into wagons, like ants bringing the honey to the queen bee. To their delight, they could tell by the lack of lines that there was work to be had here.

With sunset fast approaching, Guy and Lester really needed to find a place to make camp for the night and get something to eat. While coming across the country, on top of stealing chickens, fishing and the rare times they found game to hunt, they were still constantly hungry.

Having no idea where they could set up some kind of temporary camp while hopefully working the orange groves around the area, all they could do was watch the others like themselves coming and going. They soon noticed a few heading down a side road heading eastward following their now constantly elongating shadows, so they jumped in line and followed them to see where it might lead. Along the way, they came across a family along side the road with steam rising in the air from the engine of their old car. As they passed the scene, they saw at least a dozen children from babies to teenagers looking about as forlorn and lost as anyone could be. They all wore threadbare clothing showing more skin and bones that material.

Both Guy and Lester were pretty handy when it came to fixing cars, so they pulled over up ahead and walked back to be greeted by a middle-aged man wiping his forehead in the dry hot air of Southern California and a wife with tears leaving dirty trails down her grimy face.

Even with their dire predicament, they still greeted the brothers with smiles showing more missing teeth than intact and after scrubbing his hand on his trousers; he held it out for a firm handshake.

“Howdy friend.” The man said.
”Howdy.” Guy answered back. “Looks like your having some trouble here.”
”Yup. Seems something is wrong with the old radiator or something. Just all the sudden like it started pissin steam like a geyser.”

“Well, we could take a look see ifin you don’t mind.” Lester said. “We knows a little about engines.”

“Well, that’d be mighty friendly of you sir. We’d surely appreciate any help ya might be able to give right about now.”

After opening the hood of the old car, it was quickly determined the problem was only a crack in the radiator hose, so Guy and Lester headed back to their pickup to retrieve a piece of rubber from a inner tube along with some bailing wire. Then after cracking open the radiator cap to let out the pressure, they went about encircling the cracked hose with the rubber, then wiring both ends with the tightened wire and they were done.

In the meantime, the man had brought back a bucket of water from a nearby pond, so he took the cap off and refilled the tank, then replaced the cap and restarted the motor.

As they stood there inspecting the patch and finding no more leaks, the man thanked them profusely.

“Sir?” Lester asked. “We was wondering. We seen others heading down this road and just followed along having nowhere else to go tonight. Do you know where we might find a place to make camp for a few days while we look for work?

“Why I do sir.” The man answered. “Matter of fact, that’s a where we were aheading. We heard from others there was a small river a ways on ahead where folks like us were setting up camp, so we thought to go there too. If you’d just follow us, we’ll head thataway right now afore this here radiator hose gives us anymore trouble.”
”Well. That sounds good to us.” Guy said. “We’ll be right behind ya, in case there’s anymore trouble with your car.”
”That be mighty nice of you sir. Mighty nice indeedy. I thank ya. Ifin there be any way to pay ya back, I will.”

So before long, the man and women got all the kids pilled back into the now very crowded car and they pulled back onto the highway like a caravan of two following a few other cars traveling that way.

It wasn’t long after cresting a long hill they had their first glimpse of a waterway winding it’s way through the countryside.

After so much traveling with no convenient way to bath, the idea of a nice soak in relatively clean river water greatly appealed to Guy and Lester. Soap being a luxury they hadn’t had in oh so long, it didn’t matter. Just being able to soak their bodies and cloths in water sounded mighty fine right about then.

As they got close enough to start seeing details of the encampment, they noted something odd. Interspersed throughout the area were 50-gallon barrels, stacked high with huge overflowing mounds of Orange peels, some stretching for a dozen feet encircling the barrels.

When they stopped and asked someone why all the orange peels were piled all around, there were told the men would walk a couple of miles in the dark of each night and steal the oranges from the surrounding groves to have anything to eat. They told them these were the same groves some of the men were finding jobs at picking the fruit during the day. They would purposely leave some of the oranges closest to the river they could come back and get in the night for themselves.

It took a while meandering between the camps and people but they finally found a clearing they might call their own, at least for a while.

All the way through the maze of tents, shanties and leaning cardboard affairs some were calling home were every ragtag example of humanity one could imagine. Even though Guy and Lester were members of a family with 13 children, it was still rather discerning to see so many clearly malnourished, skinny, at times almost lifeless children they saw. Usually with so many children there would be loud noises children always make but everyone they saw were mostly withdrawn and quiet, only setting or standing with eyes glazed over with hunger, sadness and fatigue from the bleak circumstances they found themselves in.

Later after setting up their rather sparse encampment, they joined a group of men heading over to the groves for just enough oranges to supplement the flour they had. For the next two weeks all they had to eat was a few fish from the river and flour pancakes for bread and oranges, lots of oranges.

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

Part 3.

We last left guy setting at the kitchen table with nothing in his heart but relief and thankfulness, that he hadn't had to carry out his desperate plan to rob the local grocery store of enough bags of groceries to feed his family, then turn himself in to the local sheriff.

Truth was, his family and Sheriff Dan were long time friends. In fact Guy’s father and he were hunting partners. Guy knew Sheriff Dan would be more than sympathetic to their plight but also knew he’d have to put Guy in Jail on top of charging him with the serious offence of robbery with a gun, even though it wasn’t loaded.

He also knew with Lester’s job, the whole family would now have at least enough food to sustain themselves for a while longer. The few times in the past weeks when he and his brothers had time to get together, the conversation always involved what a lot of the folks around there were talking about.

Most everyone was talking about heading out west. The rumors were, there were jobs in the planting fields out California way. In fact more and more people were packing up everything they could in the back of their trucks and deserting their now worthless farms to head out west in search of a better life, or at the least enough food to live.

As fate would have it, Lester’s job only lasted a couple of weeks, Not even enough time for the meager food to begin filling in the spaces between the skin and bones their bodies were becoming all to familiar with.

That and the fact that none of Guy’s siblings or parents had found jobs drove the family into holding a meeting around the empty kitchen table on the first Sunday morning they were all available.

The discussion quickly progressed to how they were all going to pack up everything and leave the only home they’d known, which brought tears to their Mom and the girl’s eyes but only hung heads from the guys trying their best to hide their sadness and be stoic.

Most of the brothers told them they’d already made arrangements with some of their friends to go with them out west, so that made the whole process somewhat easier.

Their Mom and Dad would take the three girls with them, so that only left Guy and Lester to work out a way to travel. Luckily, they’d been working on an old beat up Ford Pickup this last year and only had tires to patch, and then they’d be ready to go also.

So during the next week, the family all pitched in to bundle everything they owned, which wasn’t much, into a small trailer their Father had built out of an old truck chassis, they would pull behind the beater family car.

Their Mom being the ever-frugal one brought out a sack of flower and a small sack of salt for each sibling. That along with some fishing string, hooks and of course their rifles and a small sack of bullets would have to be their main staples during the trip, along with what fish they could catch or game they might find along the way.

After patching the threadbare tires, Guy and Lester piled all their cloths plus a few pieces of furniture that wouldn’t fit in anyone else’s rig on top of the growing pile of stuff. About then, they watched several billowing clouds coming up the drive, they knew to be the friends of their brothers come to pick them up.

When the car and trailer, along with the trucks were loaded, they all stood looking at the crazy sight. It looked like a Mexican caravan ready to head out into a desert hoping for an oasis.

Then they stood there in relative silence squinting their eyes against the blowing dust, pretending to be lost in thought for quite a while, not quite knowing what to say or do next. Their Dad made a small speech then telling everyone they’d find each other out west but down deep they all knew this might be the last time some of them ever saw each other. Really, this would be the first time the family had truly been separated, so it felt a bit like a funeral as they finally grew close and held each other in a long and silent group hug.

Then one by one, after taking a last look back at the old now pitiful looking homestead, they all started climbing aboard.

As they each started their rigs with puffs of smoke announcing success, Eunice, one of the sisters, jumped out and ran back into the house. In just a moment she was racing back with tears streaming down her muddy face, hugging a small rag doll she had almost forgotten.

So one by one, the rag tag collection of old beat up automobiles puffed down the dirty driveway; each leaving a cloudy trail behind as their last and only testament anyone had ever lived there.

As they reached the end of the driveway and turned toward town, everyone one of them craned their necks looking out the side windows for one last glance at the home they’d very well never see again but alas, with the cars dust clouds added to the never ending dust storms, the house was gone as if never there.

Even with the price of gasoline only 10 cents a gallon, it took every last penny they’d saved for this purpose to fill all the tanks. 

They started out as a caravan but before long were separated, so Guy and Lester took turns driving as they made their way westward, riding on hope and faith they would discover a better world at it’s end.

Being farm boys and flat broke; they had created out of an old hand bicycle pump a contraption to siphon gas out of gas tanks along the way. Put one hose in a cars tank, the other in theirs and pump. They knew that was stealing but having no other way to get gasoline, it left them no choice but to bend the rules this once and pray the powers that be might forgive them.

They found the best opportunity was on Sunday’s at a country church. They would pull into the dirt parking lot next to a likely looking car and wait for the loud singing and hallelujahs to drift out of the church and then pump like crazy as long as they dared, then madly drive on their way once more.

In those days, most folks attended church, which brought up another guilt inducing but necessary opportunity. Before leaving the area, they would find a small farm with no one home and grab up a chicken from the chicken coop, which would add to their meager foodstuffs, calming their constantly growling stomachs for a few more days.

As soon as they started driving through mid-America things changed for the worse. More than once as they approached a small town on the highway, they were met on the road by a group of angry townsfolk with rifles screaming. “Get out of here you white trash! We don’t want your kind here.”

When they asked how they were to be on their way around the town, one of the men would bark. “Back a piece is a trail off to the left, turn there, then a ways further you’ll find a dirt track beside the river heading west you can take. Now Get!”

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

Part 2.

 

When we last left Guy, in his sheer desperation to help his slowly starving family during the Great Depression and Dust Bowl years in Okalahoma in the 1930’s, he had retrieved his 22-caliber pistol he’d stashed a couple of years ago high on a shelf in his bedroom closet. The pistol had never crossed him mind in that time until now. Even as he held it there, he still had no solid plan.

 

It was in his genes to have anything he used be in top condition, so he took it back to the bed and after finding some old rags and some oil, he started the process of cleaning every inch till he could see his dirty face in it’s surface. Then after repeating the process on the inside with a cleaning rod, he was ready.

During the chore, he slowly developed a plan. He had no intention of doing anyone harm, much less shooting anyone, so he didn’t load the gun. His plan was to take a bath, wash and comb his unkempt hair, then dress in what clean cloths he could find, to be properly attired for what he was about to do.

Then he’d walk back to town, go into the local grocery store and using the gun as intimidation, rob the place of all the bags of food he could carry back. Then when he’d deposited the food back at their farmhouse, he would turn himself in to the local sheriffs office.

Even as hungry as he was, he figured sooner or later, they would be forced to feed him, so he wouldn’t touch any of the food. That way his family could eat well, at least this once.

 

So after bathing, shaving and combing his hair, he stuck the pistol in his pants under his shirt and then stood looking at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall for a moment. “Wow!” If he hadn’t almost forgot how, he would’ve chuckled at what he saw standing there. “I haven’t looked this good in months. At least I’ll look good in the mug shot they take.”

“Well,” He thought. “I guess this is it.”

Then he headed for the bedroom door and after glancing back at himself one last time in the wall mirror, he stepped into the living room, then out through the front door. He found himself standing there on the front porch with conflicting thoughts bouncing around his brain like ricocheting bullets in an old cowboy movie he’d seen once.

Should he really do this? Maybe he should put the damn pistol away and try and think of some other way to help the family but he’d been struggling with this for days now and there was no other way he could think of that would at least temporally feed his family, so…

 

He straightened his shoulders and stepped off the steps onto the dirt once more. As soon as his foot touched the dust laying there like sifted flower, the little cloud immediately swirled up his pant leg, once again tinting it the god awful gray he was so sick of. That and the sweat already running down his back reminded him that by the time he arrived back in town, his attempt to look nice would be for naught.

“Oh well.” He grimaced. “Nothing to be done about it.”

So off he started down the dirt road in the deep silence the dust caused with each step.

 

He didn’t get very far when he heard someone up ahead yelling out something he couldn’t quite yet make out.

Squinting his eyes against the ever present dust in the air and rising heat, he could just start to make out someone running full blast toward him on the dirt road just arrived from the main road.

He couldn’t make out whom yet, but whoever it was, he was still screaming out something he still couldn’t make out.

At that point he stopped walking to try and make some sense out of what he was seeing and hearing. That’s when the first words slowly became clearer. It hit him then who it was. It was his older brother Lester and what he was shouting hit him like a ton of bricks and froze him in his now dirty tracks.

After another moment it was clear. He was shouting. “I got a job! I got a job! I got a job!” He was shouting those same words over and over and over like a stuck record.

 

Guy’s well-hidden but real desire to break out crying in joy came dangerously close to the surface then but by god “Men don’t cry God damnit!” His mind screamed him back into some semblance of control.

By then Lester ran up and grabbed Guy in a humongous bear hug, then grabbed his hands and swung them both in great circles of joy, all the while continuing to scream out “I got a job Guy! I got a Goddamn job!

 

After extracting himself from Lester’s over exuberant embrace and listening to all the details of Lester’s job, Guy quietly turned back toward the house, walked into the bedroom and then into the closet.  After he wrapped the now clean shining pistol in a rag, on his tiptoes, he once again laid it back into its place there.

Next he walked into the bathroom, turned and locked the door and then sat on the toilet and couldn’t help himself. He silently wept until there was nothing left there.

Then he washed his face and went back into the house where Lester was still turning in joyous circles like some crazy dancer from some other exotic country.

As he sat himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, all he could do was gently smile at fates amazing grace.

 

To be continued: