Joseph Moynihan Pick-An-Image: Short Story Second Photo
It was made of sheets of tin, drift board and broken glass. My home wasn’t so much a home as it was shack, housing my wife, my two children, and myself. It was the summer of 1932 and president Hoover had decided to tariff foreign products in this country in an attempt to stimulate the buying of American made goods. It didn’t work. In response, other countries proceeded to levy harsh tariffs on American made goods in order to stimulate their own economies. As foreign countries began buying less and less of our products, we progressively lost the ability to even buy our own, as we could no longer afford to purchase foreign products either.
Our towns, aptly named after the president whose decisions led us here, are a co-op of broken boards, inhuman conditions, and shattered realities. In the distance you can see black ash billowing from the cylindrical towers in the few remaining factories that are still open. We are now the people of abandoned yards, of makeshift toilets, and of un-fed children. We are the people of desperation; we are the depression.
I'm not as old as I look. It's hard to get along in this battered down world. Unlike myself, the land is barren and I was lucky enough to find this sheet which for my two children and myself serves as a shelter; if you can even call it that. We haven't seen any other humans in weeks (I still try to keep track of the date in my mind). Seriously, why do I even have this lantern? It's useless in daylight and only attracts 'them' in the night. I guess it grants me a little comfort and connection to what seems like our ancient past.
God, I'm hungry! I made these moccasins for Tulip. I miss life, I miss color, I miss sane people, I miss myself.
It feels like I've been holding up this sign forever. Daddy says I'm a good little girl, and that he's so proud of me for being here with him today. It's bright and sunny out, the kind of day John and me'd go to the creek and watch the little fish and tadpoles swim around, and follow the stream for a little while. Maybe today we'd play leap-frog. Or maybe we'd make little fishing poles out of sticks and twine and try to catch something with worms we found in the dirt. We never caught nothin', but it was nice.
"Daddy, why do John n' me hafta be out here with you? I don't mind it none, but why do we hafta?"
"Well, Darla," he said with the sweetest, strangest look in his eyes, "it's 'cause times've been tough for a little while, 'cause big men with money like to keep it instead of giving jobs to folks that need it, like us."
"Why's that?"
"You know... I reckon I don't really know. Maybe they like money a bit too much. All I know is that I can't bring home enough money to feed the family or keep the home we got. I know that they been holdin' out on us for long enough, and enough is enough. I wouldn't feel much like a man, no, much like a father if I didn't fight the good fight for poor folks like us."
"But why're me and John here?"
"They need to see what they're doing to young children. They don't care much what they do to another man, it's when kids get involved that makes 'em tremble. Some of 'em are family men themselves, and Lord forbid they let their own children go hungry, let alone another man's."
My stomach rumbled right then. I remembered that I haven't felt so empty in all my life.
I'm so hungry. I asked my mom last night, "Why don't you have food to give me? I am so hungry. I told you I am hungry!"
All she said in reply was, "Your dad is the one who brings home the food, ask him"
My mother said dad is the one who brings home the food. But lately he doesnt even leave home. How is he going to bring home food if he never leaves? So I asked him,
"Dad, why arent you going out and getting food for us? I am hungry and mom looks sad all the time" I looked at him pleading with my eyes and trying to make my stomach growl on cue. He looked at me with angry eyes, "When I have a job son, when the let me work, then I will bring you and your mother food."
I wanted to ask more questions. WHo won't let you work? How is sitting here helping? Can I help? But he looked so angry so I just went to my shared bedroom which was also the family room.
Today mom and I made signs. We have been walking and standing holding these signs all day. I dont know what it says because I can't read it. But mom says it will help dad, and maybe we will get some food if I stand here long enough.
Joseph Moynihan
ReplyDeletePick-An-Image: Short Story
Second Photo
It was made of sheets of tin, drift board and broken glass. My home wasn’t so much a home as it was shack, housing my wife, my two children, and myself. It was the summer of 1932 and president Hoover had decided to tariff foreign products in this country in an attempt to stimulate the buying of American made goods. It didn’t work. In response, other countries proceeded to levy harsh tariffs on American made goods in order to stimulate their own economies. As foreign countries began buying less and less of our products, we progressively lost the ability to even buy our own, as we could no longer afford to purchase foreign products either.
Our towns, aptly named after the president whose decisions led us here, are a co-op of broken boards, inhuman conditions, and shattered realities. In the distance you can see black ash billowing from the cylindrical towers in the few remaining factories that are still open. We are now the people of abandoned yards, of makeshift toilets, and of un-fed children. We are the people of desperation; we are the depression.
3rd photo.
ReplyDeleteI'm not as old as I look. It's hard to get along in this battered down world. Unlike myself, the land is barren and I was lucky enough to find this sheet which for my two children and myself serves as a shelter; if you can even call it that. We haven't seen any other humans in weeks (I still try to keep track of the date in my mind). Seriously, why do I even have this lantern? It's useless in daylight and only attracts 'them' in the night. I guess it grants me a little comfort and connection to what seems like our ancient past.
God, I'm hungry! I made these moccasins for Tulip. I miss life, I miss color, I miss sane people, I miss myself.
1st photo
ReplyDeleteIt feels like I've been holding up this sign forever. Daddy says I'm a good little girl, and that he's so proud of me for being here with him today. It's bright and sunny out, the kind of day John and me'd go to the creek and watch the little fish and tadpoles swim around, and follow the stream for a little while. Maybe today we'd play leap-frog. Or maybe we'd make little fishing poles out of sticks and twine and try to catch something with worms we found in the dirt. We never caught nothin', but it was nice.
"Daddy, why do John n' me hafta be out here with you? I don't mind it none, but why do we hafta?"
"Well, Darla," he said with the sweetest, strangest look in his eyes, "it's 'cause times've been tough for a little while, 'cause big men with money like to keep it instead of giving jobs to folks that need it, like us."
"Why's that?"
"You know... I reckon I don't really know. Maybe they like money a bit too much. All I know is that I can't bring home enough money to feed the family or keep the home we got. I know that they been holdin' out on us for long enough, and enough is enough. I wouldn't feel much like a man, no, much like a father if I didn't fight the good fight for poor folks like us."
"But why're me and John here?"
"They need to see what they're doing to young children. They don't care much what they do to another man, it's when kids get involved that makes 'em tremble. Some of 'em are family men themselves, and Lord forbid they let their own children go hungry, let alone another man's."
My stomach rumbled right then. I remembered that I haven't felt so empty in all my life.
I'm so hungry. I asked my mom last night, "Why don't you have food to give me? I am so hungry. I told you I am hungry!"
ReplyDeleteAll she said in reply was, "Your dad is the one who brings home the food, ask him"
My mother said dad is the one who brings home the food. But lately he doesnt even leave home. How is he going to bring home food if he never leaves? So I asked him,
"Dad, why arent you going out and getting food for us? I am hungry and mom looks sad all the time"
I looked at him pleading with my eyes and trying to make my stomach growl on cue. He looked at me with angry eyes, "When I have a job son, when the let me work, then I will bring you and your mother food."
I wanted to ask more questions. WHo won't let you work? How is sitting here helping? Can I help? But he looked so angry so I just went to my shared bedroom which was also the family room.
Today mom and I made signs. We have been walking and standing holding these signs all day. I dont know what it says because I can't read it. But mom says it will help dad, and maybe we will get some food if I stand here long enough.
Im so hungry.