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