91 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
91 lines
5.1 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #673
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "History Assignment"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Tasha
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 6/9/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I had to write this for my history class. The assignment was to
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write a short story pretending we were someone who had lived during the
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Great Depression.
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[-----]
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It was the August of 1933, and it was hot. My hair was clinging
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like wet noodles to my dingy face, and my dress was doing likewise to the
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rest of my body. Well, the rest of my body that was covered. My knees
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were showing, scraped and dirty, as well. There was a tear in the
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shoulder. The dress had once been a brilliant baby blue color. I had a
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mission this specific August day. I was trying to find some tissue, or
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maybe a little extra cloth. Daddy had just brought a new pair of shoes
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home for me and my sister, Clara. They weren't new, actually, just new to
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us. They were cracked leather, and far too big. That's where the tissue
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or cloth came in, you see. I wanted to make them fit better.
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I'd had the same pair of shoes for nearly a year, and I was only 14,
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so my feet were growing like weeds. The extra size came like a drink of
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cold water when slipped onto my feet, which had been bruised and bloodied
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from the hard leather of my old shoes cutting into my feet. Quite a
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contrast, leather and skin.
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Daddy brought a new dress home for Momma. That wasn't new, either,
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just to her. It was orange, faded, but the color still remained, a little.
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There were peaches on it. I didn't remember what peaches were at the time,
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but when I closed my eyes, remembering the original color of the dress
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still mad my mouth water to think about the taste of that fruit.
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Somewhere hidden in Daddy's magical bag of presents was the one
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thing he bought himself. Momma yelled at Daddy for spending what money we
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had on liquor, but I knew he needed it. He was always even friendlier when
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he drank, anyway. He'd pick me up over his head and swing me around,
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telling me I was beautiful despite the dirt on my face and the grease in
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my hair. Also despite the lack of any excess meat on my bones. Any meat
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at all, actually. We had food, not much, but we did have it, and that is
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all that matters.
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Before the hard times hit, Daddy was an employee for Mr. Henry Ford.
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He got that five dollar a day wage, too. We had a real pretty house, with
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a fence around the yard. We had two cars, even. There was a nice boy from
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town always coming around to see my sister, she was 16 then and starting to
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see boys. His daddy had bought him a car, he worked for Mr. Ford, too.
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That car ended up being sold, and he never had money to take my sister
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anywhere.
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Anyway, I was looking for some tissue and cloth to put in those new
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shoes. They were such pretty shoes. I have nicer ones now, of course, but
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they were like solid gold to me then. I was even humming as I searched. I
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was humming and humming, subconsciously trying to drown out the noise of
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the hungry babies screaming from all around me. You could hear everything
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in that little town we moved into after the hard times hit. It wasn't even
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a town, really, just a few boards nailed together in various places. None
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of the homes had cute signs saying how sweet they were. Nothing was sweet.
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After I'd finally found some cloth, it was old, probably from a
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dress or something, I sat down on our makeshift couch and put myself to
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work fitting it in my shoes. I was very careful not to obstruct the smooth
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lines of the leather, though. I didn't want bumps of cotton showing on my
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feet. I may have been dirty and skinny, but I still wanted to look my
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best. The hard times weren't going to last forever, I knew they weren't.
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No one was very hopeful besides me. Momma called it na<6E>ve hopes and
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dreams. Daddy called it the wisdom of his little girl, his favorite little
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girl.
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I wore those shoes for almost another year, about ten months to be
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exact. I'd always take a little more cloth out when they started to feel
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too snug. Eventually, my toes were making little bumps at the front of the
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shoe, and I walked a little funny. It hurt. I always treasure new shoes
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now, though. I've become sort of a shoe addict. I have lots more money to
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spare, and it's so much fun to indulge myself. I think I earned it. Daddy
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said I earned it at our last family Christmas when my husband bought me
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five new pairs of shoes. Daddy died four months after that, but enclosed
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in the box of things I got after he died, was a pair of very worn leather
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shoes. There were two pieces of cloth wadded up in each toe.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #673 - WRITTEN BY: TASHA - 6/9/99 ]
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