Sitting here on this corner I find my self-wondering is this what has become of our great nation. Days go by, and all we think about is if there will be any food waiting on us at home or at the soup kitchens and bread lines. We think to our selves is our government not going to help us or are they going to sit on there hills as the land blows away, and more and more of us lose our jobs? Every morning I wake up hoping that this was just a bad dream and it will all be back to the way it was before. But I know that as soon as I open my eyes that reality will strike and it will not be a dream.
I get up and put on my blue jeans and white shit and wonder through my so called house made out of what I have been able to gather, a few nails some cardboard some wood and insulation on the walls of news paper. We sleep on the floors, which are also covered with paper and use what we can find for good covers. I look around the shack for what I have to spear to sell or trade to but I have already sold most of our possessions. I leave early in the morning after seeing the kids in there peaceful sleep. (David D. Surviving)
Walking out side I see the red haze in the air from the dust that is being brought in with the dry winds from the dust storms on the planes. The haze is just a constant reminder of the times that we are in. It is always with you even when you try to lose yourself in some peaceful thoughts it is always their haunting you. I step out of my house and look down the rows of the shantytown it all I can see in eyesight. I start walking to town as I pass by the other shacks there is not much stirring most people asleep trying to escape the thought of what has happened to them in this nightmare of reality.
Dickinson C Living in Illinois) With eyes open I enter town there is people moving about coming in and out of the half-empty stores. While walking the street for a while I observe the people. The people don’t have thoughts of happiness on their faces it is if a wave of death is haunting all of them. Most of them have lost their jobs just as I have. Before all of this I was a sales men for a clothing company but after it went bankrupt I lost my job. After walking the street for a while I decide to go to Miss. Melons where every morning I go pick apples off of her tree.
After I have picked a small bundle of apples I go to the main street corner and attempt to attempt sell them, but with a depression it is hard to sell something when it seems everyone has nothing. When I finish selling the bundle I split the money sixty forty with her, her getting the sixty, which for these times in not too bad but barely enough to put food in the mouths. (McDougal Littell Inc. ) There is one advantage of being self-employed is that you can take as long as lunch as you need. So I do I pick up my basket and head down the block.
As I come around the corner I see the line running to the soup kitchen. The line it not small but it is in order running down the brick walls around the corner stopping by the grocery store where I enter the line. Standing here I listen to the up beat music of the times it helps me forget about some of my problems. (McDougal Littell Inc. ) After about an hour of patient waiting I get to the front of the line. With eyes wide I look at the so-called soup, which looks like yellow water with little pieces of white bread floating in it.
I do not ever dare to complain because I am lucky to even get that. Sitting hear I wonder of what my family is doing, guessing they are waiting in line at another soup kitchen or getting some bread from the store or at least trying to find something to eat. Awaking form the haze that has kept me there I pick up my basket and head back out to the corner where I decide to take my place and try to a few more apples before the day is out. I walk back out the door and head back to the same corner as I always sit.
As I stand here people pass by either not saying a word or as I try to entice them or am friendly and ask at least how much I want for them. Even though I have my sign sitting there with the words “5 cents a pair. ” But it makes me happy to have them at least acknowledge me. (Timelines the great depression) While awaiting another potential costumer I watched a little girl cross the road. She must of only been about five or six and she was carrying a little basket. While watching her I realized she was wearing rags that were no much suitable for even a young girl that lived in the shantytowns.
I watched her cross the road at the end of the block and she sat down but the opposite corner of where I was. As she sat down she pulled a cardboard sign out of her basket saying need money for food. Watching the girl as she sits there she looked as humble as any of the older people that were wondering the streets. This made me think of how devastating the depression has to be on our children they are as hurt by this then any of the grown people. ( Terkel S. Growing up)
Gathering my apples and my money I decide to head back to Mrs. lons house to pay her the sixty percent that I owe her. I walk in her front gate where meets me with a smile and a warm hello as I greet her with the same. As I handed her the money from the day she politely took it with out counting it showing me that she is trust worthy of me and in these times is a very good feeling. I walk out the gates leaving my occupation behind. Leaving her house I took an unusual route home, instead of walking through the middle of town I desired to walk through the more wealthy part of town.
I walked down the street looking at past memories of these houses remembering of what it was like to have a heater and lighting running water and the smell of your house. Even though I walk down this part of the town it still has the same red dust in the air, the same felling of depression it is just that these people haven’t lost all they had but you can tell by how there yard and houses look that they were brought down by the depression. Hanging a left at the next street, I come to the edge of the town. Here is where I enter my part of town that isn’t’ full of nice houses but of shacks.
This is my town for now my shantytown. This is what my life as lead me to and I walk through it with my head high because I’m not just trying to sit back and wait for the government to help me I’m trying to help myself. As I walk down the row to where my house is I see my kids out side playing games. When I walk to them they great me with warmth and happiness to see me as I give the hugs I realize this is what I really have and this is what I have to get up every morning to look forward to, and my reason to live, and work and find a way to keep them from starving or sick the thing that makes who I am my family.
