I woke up with my face plastered against the dusty quilt underneath me as our rickety old truck went over an especially large bump. I glanced at the trees passing beside us through bleary eyes. They were plum trees. Plum trees!
“Pa, stop the truck!” I shouted into the dust towards the cab of the truck.“What?! Are you hurt?” my mother clucked as she hastily climbed out and peered at me like a mother hen.
“No. But LOOK, they’re plum trees! We can eat! Can we please pick some of them?
She looked suspiciously at them, “Well, I suppose if no one sees us. It IS state property. Hmmm,” she glanced up and down the long, hot stretch of road. “Yes. I suppose. Get the wicker baskets.”
Yes! The thought of eating something moist, that wasn’t stale bread (if it could still be identified as that) made my mouth water uncontrollably. I grabbed the baskets and swung up and over the stacks of bedding, tires, trunks, clothing, and everything else from our old life piled in the bed of the truck. Pa climbed out of the cab and squinted at the horizon.
“Arabella. Come here,” he called me forward for probably yet another speech.
“Yes Pa?”
“We must be careful. Do you know why?” his face was stern, and I could see the thought in his twinkling brown eyes.
I clasped my hand behind my back and recalled my answer from the filing cabinet in my head labeled “Hourly Sayings”.
“Yes Pa. The government is brutal. Our neighbors will not help us. We will not help our neighbors. We don’t have anything to give them and we don’t have anything to give them. We musn’t be caught doing anything wrong because we have nothing and can’t afford to lose anything else. People will try to take things from us. We must be careful,” I waited in baited silence, terrified that I had forgotten something.
“Exactly my sweet. Now go eat some plums. I will stay and watch the road. We will say we are fixing a tire. We will not let anyone know we are stealing off of government property,” he ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head.
I let out a whoop and headed for the trees, but Ma called me back.
“Arabella! Come get your cloak, you may need it!”
Sigh. I ran back to get it arguing the whole time that I wasn’t even going out of sight of the truck and that there was no way I would need it. Never the less she fastened it around me and finally turned me loose.
I ran into the bushes and ate plums until I was beyond sick. Then I sat on my now useful cloak in their shade and picked and picked until I had filled all four baskets. Lugging them awkwardly one by one back to the truck I heard my parents quietly discussing our travel plans in the cooling air.
“We should be out of Colorado by tomorrow night, and in California by the middle of next week barring any unforeseen problems.”
“I wish that we wouldn’t travel on the Sabbath tomorrow, Charles,” came my mothers nervous voice from somewhere in the bed of the truck.
“I know Lucinda, but we simply can’t afford to stay in one place for more then we need to. We are already almost completely our of supplies and I want to get there before all of the jobs run out.”
As I came around the truck I saw my father stretched out on the ground with his back against the bed of the truck and my mother above him in the truck rearranging things as she was prone to do when she was restless.
“Ah! Bel! Did you bring me a plum to eat?” he grinned at me.
“Yes, Pa. There is plum-ty,” I smiled wryly at him.
“Arabella! Puns are not funny,” Ma scolded through a held back smile.
Pa grinned at me as he bit into a plum and juice dribbled down his chin. Ma began to complain that the daylight was draining as fast as a bathtub with no plug and that we’d better get going. We loaded the baskets into the truck, my parents climbed into the cab, I swung up into the bed and settled down amongst the blankets. The truck grudgingly started, and we drove off towards the next Hooverville to spend the night.
The stock market crashed in ‘29 and our lives crashed soon after. Pa had been a manager at vacuum company and we had enough money to live comfortably if not in complete luxury. Ma volunteered at the hospital up the street. I went to school with all my friends. My two older brothers teased me continuously. Our life was perfect. Then it fell apart. Pa lost his job, they couldn’t make their mortgage payments, Asher had to drop out of college, and we had to sell the house. My brothers, Wyatt and Asher, decided to hitchhike to California to get jobs before they were taken and our parents and I would follow in the truck (we had traded our car for it) with all our stuff. We would meet up in California. So we left our comfortable house in Pennsylvania and headed across the country.
“Arabella. Come here,” he called me forward for probably yet another speech.
“Yes Pa?”
“We must be careful. Do you know why?” his face was stern, and I could see the thought in his twinkling brown eyes.
I clasped my hand behind my back and recalled my answer from the filing cabinet in my head labeled “Hourly Sayings”.
“Yes Pa. The government is brutal. Our neighbors will not help us. We will not help our neighbors. We don’t have anything to give them and we don’t have anything to give them. We musn’t be caught doing anything wrong because we have nothing and can’t afford to lose anything else. People will try to take things from us. We must be careful,” I waited in baited silence, terrified that I had forgotten something.
“Exactly my sweet. Now go eat some plums. I will stay and watch the road. We will say we are fixing a tire. We will not let anyone know we are stealing off of government property,” he ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head.
I let out a whoop and headed for the trees, but Ma called me back.
“Arabella! Come get your cloak, you may need it!”
Sigh. I ran back to get it arguing the whole time that I wasn’t even going out of sight of the truck and that there was no way I would need it. Never the less she fastened it around me and finally turned me loose.
I ran into the bushes and ate plums until I was beyond sick. Then I sat on my now useful cloak in their shade and picked and picked until I had filled all four baskets. Lugging them awkwardly one by one back to the truck I heard my parents quietly discussing our travel plans in the cooling air.
“We should be out of Colorado by tomorrow night, and in California by the middle of next week barring any unforeseen problems.”
“I wish that we wouldn’t travel on the Sabbath tomorrow, Charles,” came my mothers nervous voice from somewhere in the bed of the truck.
“I know Lucinda, but we simply can’t afford to stay in one place for more then we need to. We are already almost completely our of supplies and I want to get there before all of the jobs run out.”
As I came around the truck I saw my father stretched out on the ground with his back against the bed of the truck and my mother above him in the truck rearranging things as she was prone to do when she was restless.
“Ah! Bel! Did you bring me a plum to eat?” he grinned at me.
“Yes, Pa. There is plum-ty,” I smiled wryly at him.
“Arabella! Puns are not funny,” Ma scolded through a held back smile.
Pa grinned at me as he bit into a plum and juice dribbled down his chin. Ma began to complain that the daylight was draining as fast as a bathtub with no plug and that we’d better get going. We loaded the baskets into the truck, my parents climbed into the cab, I swung up into the bed and settled down amongst the blankets. The truck grudgingly started, and we drove off towards the next Hooverville to spend the night.
The stock market crashed in ‘29 and our lives crashed soon after. Pa had been a manager at vacuum company and we had enough money to live comfortably if not in complete luxury. Ma volunteered at the hospital up the street. I went to school with all my friends. My two older brothers teased me continuously. Our life was perfect. Then it fell apart. Pa lost his job, they couldn’t make their mortgage payments, Asher had to drop out of college, and we had to sell the house. My brothers, Wyatt and Asher, decided to hitchhike to California to get jobs before they were taken and our parents and I would follow in the truck (we had traded our car for it) with all our stuff. We would meet up in California. So we left our comfortable house in Pennsylvania and headed across the country.
That was 3 weeks ago, although it feels like years. I hope that by the end of this year we will have our own house again, and a car not a truck, and I will have friends that have houses I can bike to.
It was dark when we pulled into the run-down Hooverville and set up our tent. Ma and Pa told me to roll out my bed and that they would be back shortly. I didn’t even wait until their long shadows had left the canvas of the tent to quietly follow. They loped arm in arm towards to campfire in the middle of the camp where a motley crew had assembled to stare into the embers together. I found myself an inconspicuous place to squat down behind a water cask and eavesdrop into their conversation. The dust and smoke filled air burned my eyes and the gravel dug sharply into my bare feet. Why hadn’t I put my shoes back on before this escapade? Pa gently guided Ma to a log near a hunch-shouldered figure staring into the dying flames.
“Where you comin’ from?” Pa’s calm, reassuring voice quietly prodded the stranger.
“Ah, come from Ok’homa. Dust Bowl kicked us out and bit our heels whil’ we scurried ‘way. Went all the way to damned Calforna, worn’t no jobs thur. Nope. None. Now we just wandering ‘round. Not a clue nor a penny. ‘Ope this damned depression gets over real quick. We ain’t gunna hold out much longer,” his voice was weary, resigned, as though this story constantly occupied his head and he could tell in his sleep. He prolly did tell it in his sleep.
“Sir, are you sure there are absolutely no jobs there? None?” Pa voice seemed controlled, as though there was a certain amount of measured disbelief. Not enough to upset Ma, but enough to keep the poor man eager to convince Pa of his story.
“None. We drove all ‘round thur. None. All jobs are gone. And them that do got jobs be working for 4 cents a day. Ain’t able to live off that now, do ya?” the man seemed to be getting less interested in the conversation.
“You didn’t by chance cross paths with two youngsters by the names of Wyatt and Asher, did you sir?”
“In fact I did. Them two younguns? Determined, but not a damned wit ‘bout them? Ya. We seen ‘em. They says to tell their Pa not to come. They says to say that theys got jobs a’right. But theys been working ‘most a month, and all theys gots is 4 bucks saved up, and they still starving. They says they give it to ya, but it ain’t wort it,” the man was certain. I was certainly convinced. There was a small scuffling noise. I peeked around the barrel, and saw the sad, strange man getting up and limp away into the darkness, headed for nothing. Not a tent, truck, person, nor even a knapsack. He disappeared without so much as a backward glance.
I saw Ma visibly shiver from here. She scooted closer to Pa and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Oh Charles,” her voice was weak and wavering, so unlike the strong, beautiful voice I knew as hers, “if that man was telling the truth, what in the good Lord’s name do we do?”
“Lucinda. My Lucy. I don’t know. He seemed quite sure of himself. I had suspected as such though, I’m afraid my dear. We are walking into the unknown. For all we know, there are more jobs in Montana then there are in California. But, if we don’t head to Cali, there is very little possibility that we will see Ash and Wy again,” calmness permeated the air. I could tell he was upset, but trying desperately not to upset Ma.
“Oh my boys. Oh my,” silence fell like a boulder, I could feel it from there, “I suppose if we must not go to California, we must not,” though quiet, her voice was an almost fatal blow.
“You’ve already lost the baby, what else is there to lose? We’ve got as good as a chance of protecting Bel anywhere in the US as we’ve got in California,” strain filled his voice.
“Yes. Yes. We will go. Where? North? South? Surely not where we came from?”
“We will go whichever way there is the least cars leaving.” Realizing that the conversation was about to end, I scampered back to the tent and curled up under my once prized coverlet, the knowledge of the recent conversation weighing heavily on my mind.
They walked into the tent a moment later and seemed to bring a tangible sadness with them. Ma bent down and stroked my cheek.
“Oh my Arabella. Oh my Bel.”
I felt a single tear drop hit my nose.
The morning light seemed to bring with it hope, assurance, and confidence. Pa woke me up by tickling my forehead with his moustache as he whispered,
“And and at ‘em Bel. The sooner we get out of here the sooner we can eat our plums. Yum,” surprisingly, his voice was smiling.
I groaned, but opened my eyes to see everything, even the tent was packed. Everything that is, but me. I stretched and hopped into the back of the truck as Pa tumbled my blanket in after me. We drove off in a cloud of sunlit, swirling dust with the anticipation of a plum ripe in my mind.
As we bounced and bumped along the road, I couldn’t help but feel we were headed towards a bright future. Perhaps it was the sugar, but I could almost taste Pa’s job in front of us, and Wyatt and Asher hot on our trail behind us.
Copyright 2011 Abigail Chapman
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