Jassy Melson
02-25-2011, 03:41 PM
Today I chopped wood. I got close to making the logs about a foot and a half long and a half foot in diameter. When I went into the house, my dad said "Why'd you get the wood so small." I told him I thought it was the right size. He looked at me as if I was dumb and said "Why can't you do anything right. Go back out there and get wood that's bigger than this."
I went back outside. It was cold. I put on some old gloves lying beside the woodpile and started chopping wood again. It took me longer this time because I was tired. I chopped the wood in bigger logs and carried some into the house.
"Is that all you've got," my dad said.
"There's some more outside," I replied.
"Go out there and get it. I've got to build up this fire."
"You didn't wipe your feet," my mom said. "You've tracked dirt all the way in here."
I started to tell her that she had taken the rugs from outside, but I didn't. It would have just caused her to say something else. I went outside and tried to wipe my shoes as best I could. Then I went back in.
I started to go to my room and mom said "Where you going?" I replied that I was going to my room to do homework. She looked at me as if she didn't understand.
Sometimes I wonder why I don't leave. But then I know why. Because I'm scared. I'm not too big; in fact, I'm small, and I don't have any money. And mom and dad never give me any.
I went to my room. It doesn't have a door; just curtains hanging down part way and that won't close all the way. I don't have any real privacy. I think I miss that more than anything. It's impossible for me to really concentrate on my homework and on reading and writing, with mom and dad fussing all the time. They get pretty loud. Usually they fuss about money.
I was half done with my homework when mom called me. I entered the living room and she said she needed me to go to the store. She told me the grocery bill and the money were on the kitchen table. I went to the kitchen and picked up the bill and the money. There was a ten dollar bill in an envelope. I stuffed the bill and the envelope in my pocket and then I walked toward the door. Mom said "Be sure not to get lettuce that's got big green leaves on it, and get white bread--not wheat. The last time you got wheat. And get two percent milk. You got whole milk before. It's a lot more in price. And get the beans that are great northern beans. Don't get the kind you got the last time."
I left the house and went to the store. I passed the big pond on the way and threw a pebble in it and watched the ripples. I imagined them hitting the shore and rippling under the ground and going on-–maybe to China.
It was a long walk to the store--about a half mile. But I felt good because there was something I wanted to see in the store.
When I reached the grocery store, Mr. Woford was standing behind the counter. He didn't say anything to me. He just glanced at me. I got a shopping basket and went around picking up the things on the list. I looked out of the corner of my eye at the bicycle in the corner of the store. It was a genuine Western Flyer, medium blue--my favorite color, and trimmed in silver. I always looked at it when I went to the store. It was beautiful. I had a faint hope that mom and dad would get it for me for Christmas. But I knew they probably wouldn't. They had told me that they could only afford to get me something that was not over ten dollars.
I finished getting everything on the list and walked to the counter. Mr. Woford began totaling it, and I walked to the bicycle. I stood and looked at the beauty till Mr. Woford said “I've got the total.” I walked over to the counter and he said “That'll be $12.20." I blinked, and then said “I guess I got too much. I've got ten dollars. I'll have to put some stuff back.” Mr. Woford sighed as if I done him a personal injury. I walked over to the non-perishable shelf and put a couple of items back—things I thought mom could do without for a few days. Then I walked back to the counter.
“The total is now $9.80,” Mr. Woford said looking sharply at me as if he thought I was trying to trick him. Why are some people so suspicious? Why are they so so ready to think the worst of other people?
I gave him the ten dollar bill and he gave me back twenty cents in change and I headed out of the store. He didn't say anything as I left. Why are some people so unfriendly?
I passed the pond on my way home. It was beginning to look inviting.
I entered the house, making sure I wiped my feet on the steps. I took the groceries to the kitchen and laid them on the table. My mom came in and looked at the receipt and then asked me how much change I had gotten back. I told her twenty cents. She looked strangely at me and said “You should have gotten two dollars and twenty cents back.”
I told her again I only got twenty cents and she looked at me and said “You had twelve dollars. You should have gotten two dollars and twenty cents. What did you do with the two dollars?”
“I didn't do anything with it. I only got twenty cents back in change.”
“Well, either you lost or kept it or Mr. Woford cheated you. Which one is it?”
“Mom, there was ten dollars in the envelope and the groceries were nine dollars and eighty cents. I got twenty cents back in change.”
“No,” she replied, “I put twelve dollars in the envelope.”
I began to get a little upset. I knew that there was only a ten dollar bill in the envelope, and I knew I hadn't lost any money. And I knew Mr. Woford hadn't cheated me.
“I'm waiting,” my mother replied. “Which one was it?”
I sighed. This was turning into something that I knew all too well. I knew I was right, but mom was convinced beyond a doubt that she was right. She was mistaken about how much she had placed in the envelope. But she would never admit that she was wrong.
“Mom, believe me. I didn't keep the two dollars and I didn't lose it, and Mr. Woford didn't cheat me.”
“Well, how do you explain the missing two dollars?”
“You won't believe me if I tell you the truth. You didn't put twelve dollars in the envelope. You put a ten dollar bill.”
“I most certainly did not!” her voice raised in volume. “I'm going to ask you directly. Did you keep the two dollars?”
“No, mom, I didn't.”
She stared at me for a moment. I could see she didn't believe me. I sighed again. There was simply no way she would believe the truth.
“Why can't you do anything the right way?” she asked. “You go to the store to do a simple thing like getting groceries, but you can't do it. You screw it up. I don't know what I'm going to do with you.”
She looked in the grocery bag and said in exasperation “And you didn't get everything I wanted you to get, and that was on the bill.” She looked at me again with that look that said “You are stupid. You can't do anything right.”
I wagged my head and went to my room and sat and looked out the window and watched the birds flying and landing and pecking on the ground. Sometimes I wish I was a bird.
I went to my little desk and began on my homework again. I had enough time to finish it if there were no more interruptions.
About the time I was two-thirds done with the homework I heard dad call out “Time for you to get some coal in.”
I sighed. It seemed that the same thing happened every evening. I wondered if it would ever be different. I suddenly realized that I was sighing a lot lately. I smiled when I thought about it and felt a little bit better.
I went to the living room and got the two buckets by the stove and went outside. As I left the living room, dad said “Get big lumps. The last time the lumps you got were too small.”
Yes, Massa, I thought to myself, and I smiled again.
I went outside and got the coal and carried in two buckets of the hard black gold. My dad didn't say anything so I figured I had gotten lumps that satisfied him. I then went to my room to finish my homework.
I was maybe three-fourths done when mom called out ”Time for bed.”
I sighed. There was no way to win. Just no way. What was the use?
I undressed and got my flashlight and crawled under the covers with my book and paper and pen. I did the old reading and writing bit under the covers. I do it quite a bit.
I finally finished my homework about ten p.m. Then I started this letter. Who it's to I haven't figured out yet. Maybe it's to no one. Maybe it's to myself. I don't know.
I thought about the pond. It was growing more and more inviting....
The boy awoke the next morning feeling tired and out of sorts.
He was already up and getting dressed when his mom called out to him “Time to get up—you'll be late for school.”
He sighed and wagged his head. He thought again: There was just no way to win. What was the use?
He heard the front door slam and knew his mom had left to go to work. His dad was already gone. He flirted with the idea of playing hooky, but then he thought No, the day would be too long with not enough to do. He went to the kitchen and found a kettle of lumpy oatmeal and some lukewarm biscuits. He looked up at the clock as he ate. He had plenty of time to make it to school.
He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, gathered his school belongings including the letter he had begun, and left the house.
Willow Pond Junior High School was only about a quarter mile away. It had warmed up considerably from the day before. It was almost balmy. It was a nice walk to school. He passed the pond and tried to look into its depth. He thought with somewhat of a sense of wonder that he had never swam in the pond or explored its depth. He figured it must be pretty deep. Deep enough...
He reached school and went into underdrive. He tended to lay low in school and not attract attention. He didn't have any friends, no one he could talk to or hang around with. The girls of the school thought he was strange because he never tried to socialize and was a loner, the boys thought he was queer because he didn't try to make it with any girls.
He was generally indifferent to school. He dutifully attended classes and did his homework. He was an average student in that respect.
There was one period of school that he wasn't indifferent to however, and that was phys.ed. He hated it, mainly because he was small and had no coordination. He couldn't do even one pull-up on the bar, and he couldn't dribble a basketball. He actually dreaded phys.ed.,because the teacher was a sadist who enjoyed watching the boys box and wouldn't allow them to quit till he saw blood.
Other than phys.ed. school was okay. He neither liked it nor disliked it.
He managed in study hall to finish the letter he had begun the night before, and this is what he wrote:
Why are people so ungrateful, so full of unthankfulness? Suspicious, and even brutal? I see no compassion from anyone, no affection. What I see is self-absorption and selfishness. I suppose I'm self-absorbed myself, but there is this difference: I realize that I am. But what difference does it make, anyway? And what's the use?
Three-thirty p.m.came, and with it the end of the school day. He gathered his books and papers and notebooks and headed home.
He came to the pond and halted. He looked over the expanse of water. It was perhaps a hundred feet wide. He knelt and swept his hand in and was surprised. The water was very cool but not cold. He picked up a stone and skipped it over the water's surface. Then he sat down by the pond's edge, and just gazed at the water for a moment.
He looked down at his books and papers. He picked up the letter he had written and read it through, and then placed it in a notebook. He slipped off his shoes and socks, and then stood. We'll find out how deep you are now, he thought.
He waded into the pool and gasped. The water was very cool. He steeled himself and waded in further.
The deeper he got in the water the more his body relaxed.
He kept wading through the water till it was up to his waist. He estimated that the water at its middle point would come to his chest.
When he came to the center of the pond he halted, took a final look around, and then he spread his arms out and moved his legs up and slowly sank into the water.
He kept his eyes closed as he moved down under the water. When he felt his rump strike bottom he clutched at the surrounding silt till he found something he could grasp. Then he opened his eyes and peered into the murky water. His whole being felt buoyant. The coolness of the water had changed to warmth. He felt as if he was bathed in a warm balm.
He had held his breath up to now, but he suddenly let it go. He felt the water rush into his mouth and nose. There was no pain about it, just a shudder on his part at the onrushing water.
He drank the water in, and suddenly he was filled with a peace he had never felt before.
At last, all the problems and troubles and misery he had experienced for so long were gone, to be replaced by a feeling that what he was doing was right. It was good that it had ended this way.
At last, the young boy was at peace.
I went back outside. It was cold. I put on some old gloves lying beside the woodpile and started chopping wood again. It took me longer this time because I was tired. I chopped the wood in bigger logs and carried some into the house.
"Is that all you've got," my dad said.
"There's some more outside," I replied.
"Go out there and get it. I've got to build up this fire."
"You didn't wipe your feet," my mom said. "You've tracked dirt all the way in here."
I started to tell her that she had taken the rugs from outside, but I didn't. It would have just caused her to say something else. I went outside and tried to wipe my shoes as best I could. Then I went back in.
I started to go to my room and mom said "Where you going?" I replied that I was going to my room to do homework. She looked at me as if she didn't understand.
Sometimes I wonder why I don't leave. But then I know why. Because I'm scared. I'm not too big; in fact, I'm small, and I don't have any money. And mom and dad never give me any.
I went to my room. It doesn't have a door; just curtains hanging down part way and that won't close all the way. I don't have any real privacy. I think I miss that more than anything. It's impossible for me to really concentrate on my homework and on reading and writing, with mom and dad fussing all the time. They get pretty loud. Usually they fuss about money.
I was half done with my homework when mom called me. I entered the living room and she said she needed me to go to the store. She told me the grocery bill and the money were on the kitchen table. I went to the kitchen and picked up the bill and the money. There was a ten dollar bill in an envelope. I stuffed the bill and the envelope in my pocket and then I walked toward the door. Mom said "Be sure not to get lettuce that's got big green leaves on it, and get white bread--not wheat. The last time you got wheat. And get two percent milk. You got whole milk before. It's a lot more in price. And get the beans that are great northern beans. Don't get the kind you got the last time."
I left the house and went to the store. I passed the big pond on the way and threw a pebble in it and watched the ripples. I imagined them hitting the shore and rippling under the ground and going on-–maybe to China.
It was a long walk to the store--about a half mile. But I felt good because there was something I wanted to see in the store.
When I reached the grocery store, Mr. Woford was standing behind the counter. He didn't say anything to me. He just glanced at me. I got a shopping basket and went around picking up the things on the list. I looked out of the corner of my eye at the bicycle in the corner of the store. It was a genuine Western Flyer, medium blue--my favorite color, and trimmed in silver. I always looked at it when I went to the store. It was beautiful. I had a faint hope that mom and dad would get it for me for Christmas. But I knew they probably wouldn't. They had told me that they could only afford to get me something that was not over ten dollars.
I finished getting everything on the list and walked to the counter. Mr. Woford began totaling it, and I walked to the bicycle. I stood and looked at the beauty till Mr. Woford said “I've got the total.” I walked over to the counter and he said “That'll be $12.20." I blinked, and then said “I guess I got too much. I've got ten dollars. I'll have to put some stuff back.” Mr. Woford sighed as if I done him a personal injury. I walked over to the non-perishable shelf and put a couple of items back—things I thought mom could do without for a few days. Then I walked back to the counter.
“The total is now $9.80,” Mr. Woford said looking sharply at me as if he thought I was trying to trick him. Why are some people so suspicious? Why are they so so ready to think the worst of other people?
I gave him the ten dollar bill and he gave me back twenty cents in change and I headed out of the store. He didn't say anything as I left. Why are some people so unfriendly?
I passed the pond on my way home. It was beginning to look inviting.
I entered the house, making sure I wiped my feet on the steps. I took the groceries to the kitchen and laid them on the table. My mom came in and looked at the receipt and then asked me how much change I had gotten back. I told her twenty cents. She looked strangely at me and said “You should have gotten two dollars and twenty cents back.”
I told her again I only got twenty cents and she looked at me and said “You had twelve dollars. You should have gotten two dollars and twenty cents. What did you do with the two dollars?”
“I didn't do anything with it. I only got twenty cents back in change.”
“Well, either you lost or kept it or Mr. Woford cheated you. Which one is it?”
“Mom, there was ten dollars in the envelope and the groceries were nine dollars and eighty cents. I got twenty cents back in change.”
“No,” she replied, “I put twelve dollars in the envelope.”
I began to get a little upset. I knew that there was only a ten dollar bill in the envelope, and I knew I hadn't lost any money. And I knew Mr. Woford hadn't cheated me.
“I'm waiting,” my mother replied. “Which one was it?”
I sighed. This was turning into something that I knew all too well. I knew I was right, but mom was convinced beyond a doubt that she was right. She was mistaken about how much she had placed in the envelope. But she would never admit that she was wrong.
“Mom, believe me. I didn't keep the two dollars and I didn't lose it, and Mr. Woford didn't cheat me.”
“Well, how do you explain the missing two dollars?”
“You won't believe me if I tell you the truth. You didn't put twelve dollars in the envelope. You put a ten dollar bill.”
“I most certainly did not!” her voice raised in volume. “I'm going to ask you directly. Did you keep the two dollars?”
“No, mom, I didn't.”
She stared at me for a moment. I could see she didn't believe me. I sighed again. There was simply no way she would believe the truth.
“Why can't you do anything the right way?” she asked. “You go to the store to do a simple thing like getting groceries, but you can't do it. You screw it up. I don't know what I'm going to do with you.”
She looked in the grocery bag and said in exasperation “And you didn't get everything I wanted you to get, and that was on the bill.” She looked at me again with that look that said “You are stupid. You can't do anything right.”
I wagged my head and went to my room and sat and looked out the window and watched the birds flying and landing and pecking on the ground. Sometimes I wish I was a bird.
I went to my little desk and began on my homework again. I had enough time to finish it if there were no more interruptions.
About the time I was two-thirds done with the homework I heard dad call out “Time for you to get some coal in.”
I sighed. It seemed that the same thing happened every evening. I wondered if it would ever be different. I suddenly realized that I was sighing a lot lately. I smiled when I thought about it and felt a little bit better.
I went to the living room and got the two buckets by the stove and went outside. As I left the living room, dad said “Get big lumps. The last time the lumps you got were too small.”
Yes, Massa, I thought to myself, and I smiled again.
I went outside and got the coal and carried in two buckets of the hard black gold. My dad didn't say anything so I figured I had gotten lumps that satisfied him. I then went to my room to finish my homework.
I was maybe three-fourths done when mom called out ”Time for bed.”
I sighed. There was no way to win. Just no way. What was the use?
I undressed and got my flashlight and crawled under the covers with my book and paper and pen. I did the old reading and writing bit under the covers. I do it quite a bit.
I finally finished my homework about ten p.m. Then I started this letter. Who it's to I haven't figured out yet. Maybe it's to no one. Maybe it's to myself. I don't know.
I thought about the pond. It was growing more and more inviting....
The boy awoke the next morning feeling tired and out of sorts.
He was already up and getting dressed when his mom called out to him “Time to get up—you'll be late for school.”
He sighed and wagged his head. He thought again: There was just no way to win. What was the use?
He heard the front door slam and knew his mom had left to go to work. His dad was already gone. He flirted with the idea of playing hooky, but then he thought No, the day would be too long with not enough to do. He went to the kitchen and found a kettle of lumpy oatmeal and some lukewarm biscuits. He looked up at the clock as he ate. He had plenty of time to make it to school.
He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, gathered his school belongings including the letter he had begun, and left the house.
Willow Pond Junior High School was only about a quarter mile away. It had warmed up considerably from the day before. It was almost balmy. It was a nice walk to school. He passed the pond and tried to look into its depth. He thought with somewhat of a sense of wonder that he had never swam in the pond or explored its depth. He figured it must be pretty deep. Deep enough...
He reached school and went into underdrive. He tended to lay low in school and not attract attention. He didn't have any friends, no one he could talk to or hang around with. The girls of the school thought he was strange because he never tried to socialize and was a loner, the boys thought he was queer because he didn't try to make it with any girls.
He was generally indifferent to school. He dutifully attended classes and did his homework. He was an average student in that respect.
There was one period of school that he wasn't indifferent to however, and that was phys.ed. He hated it, mainly because he was small and had no coordination. He couldn't do even one pull-up on the bar, and he couldn't dribble a basketball. He actually dreaded phys.ed.,because the teacher was a sadist who enjoyed watching the boys box and wouldn't allow them to quit till he saw blood.
Other than phys.ed. school was okay. He neither liked it nor disliked it.
He managed in study hall to finish the letter he had begun the night before, and this is what he wrote:
Why are people so ungrateful, so full of unthankfulness? Suspicious, and even brutal? I see no compassion from anyone, no affection. What I see is self-absorption and selfishness. I suppose I'm self-absorbed myself, but there is this difference: I realize that I am. But what difference does it make, anyway? And what's the use?
Three-thirty p.m.came, and with it the end of the school day. He gathered his books and papers and notebooks and headed home.
He came to the pond and halted. He looked over the expanse of water. It was perhaps a hundred feet wide. He knelt and swept his hand in and was surprised. The water was very cool but not cold. He picked up a stone and skipped it over the water's surface. Then he sat down by the pond's edge, and just gazed at the water for a moment.
He looked down at his books and papers. He picked up the letter he had written and read it through, and then placed it in a notebook. He slipped off his shoes and socks, and then stood. We'll find out how deep you are now, he thought.
He waded into the pool and gasped. The water was very cool. He steeled himself and waded in further.
The deeper he got in the water the more his body relaxed.
He kept wading through the water till it was up to his waist. He estimated that the water at its middle point would come to his chest.
When he came to the center of the pond he halted, took a final look around, and then he spread his arms out and moved his legs up and slowly sank into the water.
He kept his eyes closed as he moved down under the water. When he felt his rump strike bottom he clutched at the surrounding silt till he found something he could grasp. Then he opened his eyes and peered into the murky water. His whole being felt buoyant. The coolness of the water had changed to warmth. He felt as if he was bathed in a warm balm.
He had held his breath up to now, but he suddenly let it go. He felt the water rush into his mouth and nose. There was no pain about it, just a shudder on his part at the onrushing water.
He drank the water in, and suddenly he was filled with a peace he had never felt before.
At last, all the problems and troubles and misery he had experienced for so long were gone, to be replaced by a feeling that what he was doing was right. It was good that it had ended this way.
At last, the young boy was at peace.