Happiness and Hardships

Untitled Part 2

Hooverville, that’s what my daddy and his friends call it anyway, as I walk through the streets I kick up dust and it sticks to my legs and adds another coat of grime to me. The hot July sun beats down on my dark, sticky skin. I can feel the layers of dirt pile up between my toes, joints, and behind my ears. My mama always said I had beautiful blonde curls. “They look just like the sunshine on a summer afternoon,” she used to say. Now with all the dust around, my hair looks more brown than anything. I make my way through the make-shift town. People try and cool off by sitting in the shade while others lay on the dirt floor. Some say we eat nothing but dirt anymore and by the look of all the sunken in faces I’m starting to believe it. My hand makes its way to my side where I can feel every hot, moist rib. My stomach rumbles and I soon realize that I don’t remember the last time I have eaten.

As I reach our run down shack I hear Patsy’s high pitched screech. For only being six years old she sure knows a lot of cuss words. She hears them from the neighbors and when mommy and daddy talk at night, when they think no one is listening. I know they don’t want us to worry, but I have better hearing then they think. I walk over to this “horrible” situation. It seems to me she got in another fight with the neighbor boy.

“Rodger! How could you ruin my picture! I hate you!” screamed Patsy. Rodger just slinked his way back into the shade so he could cool down.

“Evelyn! Help! He ruined it!”

I make my way over to the scene of the crime. It seems to me that Patsy had been making a picture in the dirt to pass the day under the unbearable heat. She had two different sized sticks and had an elaborate drawing in the dirt. From what is left of it, I can make out daddy playing his guitar, which he no longer has, and mommy sitting next to him with a big smile.

“It was supposed to make mama happy again. I tried really hard on it,” pouted Patsy.

“Oh it will. Go inside and see what mama is doing,” I told her.

Patsy made her way inside and I walked over to talk to Rodger.

“Why would you do that to her drawing Rodger?” I asked.

“She looked so happy. No one’s happy anymore so I made her sad,” he explained.

I stared at him and saw the sorrow in his eyes, still red and puffy from crying. His father had been killed this past week, they say it was an accident on the docks but we all knew the Kendall’s were in a lot of trouble. Rumors said that their dad, James, had gambled away all their money instead of paying the bills. People from the bank had been showing up more recently asking for money and all they could do was turn them away. The family now relies on the oldest son, William. He tries to get down to the docks as much as possible to get a job, but there’s a lot of poor men in Seattle all trying to support their families.

I turned around and headed into our shack. My brown eyes take a while to adjust to the dim lighting inside. We only have one candle and mama said we can only light it when it’s necessary. She’s sitting on the ground cradling Patsy. Her thin, crooked hand tangled in my younger sister ratted, brown hair. The sobs coming from Patsy are nasally and sharp, she can barely catch her breath. My mama is moving her back and forth and whispering in her ear. Between breathes I hear Patsy say, “No one is happy anymore.” Mama sets her down and gets up, she stumbles when she walks and catches herself on her sewing chair. She walks herself over to our ice box and gets out the milk. She pours Patsy a glass and hands it to her.

“Evelyn, your daddy should be home by now. Will you go outside and wait for him?”

I walk outside and see all the men from our neighborhood walk back, all except for James Kendall. The men talked and laughed, some men massaged their tough, calloused hands and some men walked with a limp. My daddy though was strong, he was the tallest of the men and I could hear his hearty laugh from miles away. Even without seeing him I could see his crooked smile and light in his eyes. Most men were depressed and thought this era would never end, my daddy on the other hand always thought on the bright side. There is never a moment where I think we’re not going to make it when he is around. He’s always saying “Ain’t nothing hard, unless you make it, and look at us we’re making it.” I never thought it made sense but now I know what he means. We’re fortunate enough to have each other, other families have split up and my daddy won’t let that happen. We may be tired and we may be sad, but hey we’re making it.