[Critique Group 1] Fwd: Leonard's coments on DeAnna piece for Feb

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

-----Original Message-----
From: tuchyner5 <tuchyner5 at aol.com>
To: Group2 <Group2 at bluegrasspals.com>
Sent: Fri, Feb 28, 2020 12:14 pm
Subject: Leonard's coments on DeAnna piece for Feb


 

This is a good look at Indian life  as a picker. 

It’s also a good moral story  about when to be a whistle  blower and when not to. 

It tells some of the story about the good thins that wenton in the camps and 

some of the bad things. 

It told of  the hardships.  

It told of some of the injustices. 

Overall a good look at that life style. 
   
|  
 
  |


Turning Red Cherries into Red Winter Sweaters

           

Lisa reached for thecluster of deep red cherries just above her head.  They were so prettyagainst the green leaves.  She wondered if she could afford to buy a warmred sweater for school that color.  Grandma would say it wasn't apractical color for a ten-year-old, but perhaps mama would say yes.  Afterall, Lisa would be buying it with her own money.  Mr. Hodges had said theywould get twelve cents a lug and Lisa was still light enough to reach some ofthe higher branches where the adults on ladders couldn't go.  Her smallnimble fingers worked fast too.  She was sure to have enough money to buyone impractical thing just because it was pretty.  Red was her favoritecolor.  A cherry red sweater would go well with the plaid wool pleatedskirt she had her heart set on in the fall Sears Wish Book. 

 

Of course, she wouldfirst have to buy some snow boots.  Last winter, they had to share twopairs of boots between the three of them.  One had to stay inside andwatch from a window, while the other two played outside.  This year, theyeach needed a pair of boots of their own, because her youngest brother, Ryan,would be starting first grade.   She also needed heavy winter underthings, like long-johns and wool socks.

 

Thinking of them, madeher feel itchy.  She scratched at one of the dozens of mosquito bites onher thin arms.  There were no screens on the windows of the sheds, wherethe pickers slept.  It was so hot and humid at night, that she keptkicking off the thin cotton sheet and then, those awful pests bit her topieces.  At least, Lisa got a top bunk.  The straw the farmerprovided as mattresses, sifted through the planks. Anyone sleeping on a lowerbunk, had it raining straw down on them every time the person above them turnedover.  She was glad her brothers, Mike and Ryan shared the bunk below 

  

hers, because if she hadbeen in the one over where Grandma slept with her baby aunt, 

 

Baby Aunt.

.

three-year-old Abby, shewould hear about it each time she wiggled the least bit.

 

Good,her bucket was full.  These maraschinos were smaller than the Queen Anne'sthey picked yesterday.  It took a lot more of them to fill a bucket andshe needed six of her buckets to fill one lug.  She wished she was bigenough to wear her bucket on a strap over her shoulder like the grown ups, buta full grown up bucket would have pulled her over backwards she guessed. Queen Anne's were easier to bruise and Mr. Hodges was real particular about notdamaging the fruit.  He made Mike cry yesterday, by dumping out one of hisbuckets on the ground because he said the fruit was no good. He said it had toomany leaves and green cherries in it.

 

Ryanwas not much help.  He ate as many cherries as he picked and gave himselfa tummy ache the first day.  Mostly, he looked after Abby under the treesand grandma said she would give him 50 cents a day for minding his auntAbby.  Uncle John, Aunt Martha, and Uncle Ben were also picking to earnmoney for school clothes.  They helped pay for gas for the car and foodwhile they worked the crops for the farmers.  As she scrambled down theladder, Lisa wondered if it was lunchtime.

 

           There was a scream. Lisa spun around to see Aunt Martha hanging upside-downwith her foot caught in the crotch of the tree she had been picking. Uncle John tumbled to the ground beneath the tree, where his fifteen year oldsister hung.  He rolled around giving out great snorts of laughter. His father, Elijah, came hurrying from the direction of the counting area.

 

           "Get up from there and stop that braying like a donkey!  Sugar girl,are you alright?” he called.

 

"Get me downpa," cried Martha.

 

           "Hang on. I just need to shift this ladder," said Elijah. "Now I've got you. Let us work that foot loose."

 

           Soon aunt Martha was upright on the ground testing to see if everything stillworked.  Her pretty face was flushed with embarrassment andirritation. 

 

"Oh no, I've goneand split the seam up the back of my pants," she wailed.

 

           "Here aunt Mattie," called Lisa as she hurried over, holding out herlong sleeved flannel shirt.  "I wore this in the morning because it wasa little chilly when we came out so early, if you tie it around your waist, itwill cover up the rip until grandma can sew it tonight."

 

           "You are an angel Lisa, unlike some I could name!" she said, glaringat her older John.

 

           "I'm sorry Sis.  You looked so funny hanging up there! I couldn'thelp it. You aren't hurt are you?"

 

           "No, but I could have been, for all the help you were!"

 

           "Now young’uns, it’s time for lunch, your ma has set things up back at thesleeping sheds.  Let's not keep her waiting."

  

 A transitionwould be nice here. 

 

           Lisa sat tentatively on the end of the three legged bench.  Yesterday heruncles had both jumped up together. the bench had overbalanced dumping her onthe ground.  She wasn't going to let them pull that one again.

 

Grandma Emma thumpeddown one of the sandwiches and a glass of Kool-Aid in front of her eldestgrandchild. 

           "Now eat this up quick and get back to picking.  If you eat all thisI will make you a sugar sandwich for dessert.”

 

           Lisa knew that grandma did the best she could.  There was no icebox andthe wood-burning cook-stove had to be shared with all of the other pickers, soshe usually used their turn at a burner for heating water for oatmeal, makingcoffee at breakfast, or canned soup at supper.  Today's sandwich wascanned corn beef hash with mustard, on Wonder Bread.  She wished it waspeanut butter and jelly, but they had run out yesterday and wouldn't be able toget more, until they moved on to the next farm.  Still, brown sugar andmargarine on a slice of bread would taste good for a treat.

 

           Cherries were ever so much nicer to pick than green beans, where the rowsstretched forever, under the hot sun.  Worst though were picking cucumbersfor the pickle companies.  You had to wear long sleeves and jeans to keepthe prickles on the vegetables from getting on you.  They really itchedand there was no shade in those fields either.

 

           Lisa had just finished her Kool-Aid, when Tom Hodges stormed into the areawhere the pickers shacks stood.  His round face was red with anger.

 

           "You folks get out here!" he roared.

 

           About fifty people came from all directions.  Some were slight brownpeople, who kept to themselves and spoke Spanish. Others were tall slenderChippewa, like Lisa's family.  There were some Potawatomi and OttawaIndians too.

 

           "Which one of you lazy good-for-nothins split my tree right down themiddle of its trunk?  I will lose that tree because someone too heavy forsuch a young tree tried to climb it!"  Mr. Hodges glared around atthe silent group of pickers.  No one would meet his furious blueglare.  Grandpa Elijah was the tallest man there.  He stood six footeight and towered over the farmer.  He swept dark eyes over his family,noting that his youngest son was shifting from foot to foot.  His sterngaze settled on the farmer in a way that made the man uneasy.  Mr. Hodgesturned on his heel and stormed away grumbling.

 

"Youare all a bunch of worthless, sly, shiftless, thieves and lay-abouts. Decent folk, hold down factory jobs and earned good money.  But, what canyou expect from a bunch of Mexicans, who can't even speak English, orreservation drunks.  Well, they'll pay for my loss, one-way oranother!"

 

Lisawondered how he thought his fruit would get picked if it weren't for the hardworking people clustered around her.  As the pickers drifted back to theirrows in the orchard, Elijah laid a hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "Ben, do you know anything about that damaged tree? He asked quietly.

 

"Ben dropped hiseyes in respect.  He sighed.  "I saw that girl Carmen Ortega,standing near it crying.  She can't weigh much more than 90 pounds. Ireckon she thought she could climb it."

 

           Elijah shook his head.  "Those folks have it pretty bad Iguess.  The car they come-in, looks on its last legs. there were 10young’uns crammed in it, besides the four grown folks.  Kinda looked likea clown car the way they were packed in there."  Elijah straightenedhis shoulders and rested his work worn hand lightly on his 13 year-old son'shead for a moment.  "You were right not to say anything.  Youdidn't see her damage the tree and those folks have enough trouble on theirhands I think."

 

Lisa watched as twopairs of dark eyes exchanged a look of understanding. Her grandpa and younguncle moved off to their section of the orchard.  As Lisa return to hertree, she took note of where Ryan and Abby were settling down on a blanketgrandma had spread under the tree she was picking.  Ryan was trying toconvince Abby to take a nap. His chubby-cheeked six year-aold face was solemnwith the responsibility of keeping Abby from getting into mischief.  Lisareckoned that he was earning the fifty cents a day he had been promised. Shesmiled to herself, remembering how Abby had taken all of the labels off of thecanned goods in the carton of food stuffs last week.  Grandma had to shakecans and try to guess what was in them.  They had some pretty strangemeals, when she was wrong, until the unmarked cans were used up.

 

           Well enough wool-gathering, she had a lot of cherries to pick, if she was goingto earn enough to buy a cherry red sweater for school!

 

 

I 

 
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://bluegrasspals.com/pipermail/group1/attachments/20200228/c8396245/attachment-0001.html>