We Interrupt This Program...
- Thread starter A.T.Hagan
- Start date
Tumbleweed
Veteran Member
Alan:
I would like to add my own praise to the growing
heap of compliments on such a fine and gripping
work...and also to the list of those who urge you
to seek publication of this. I am someone who
spends a great deal of time reading (in fact, if
I don't have something to read, I'll start yanking
cans off the shelves and reading the labels!)
And I therefore feel qualified to say...that you
definitely have some talent...and it is not hard
at all to imagine a publishing company reaching
the same conclusion.
In case you have privately said to yourself "aw,
its not that good...nobody would want to print it"...
There is... or used to be....a really lame 'super martial-
arts' paper-back series called 'The Destroyer' on which
the movie 'Remo Williams...The Adventure Begins' is
based. I have read many of that series..and I can
tell you with certainty...that I have never read anything
so corny and rediculous in my life...and how on earth
anything like that ever got published is beyond me!!!
The characters...the plots...the capabilities of the heros
are all so....CRAZY....and just plain GOOFY...that you
can only wonder what the author was smoking!
One would think that such drivel would never make
it past the publisher's trash can....but somehow, it
made it into publication! Must have been a case of
'so bad, its good'! Anyhow, what I was trying to say
is...if 'The Destroyer' could impress someone....'We
Interrupt This Program' Should have no problem at
all! Alan....go for it!!!
I would like to add my own praise to the growing
heap of compliments on such a fine and gripping
work...and also to the list of those who urge you
to seek publication of this. I am someone who
spends a great deal of time reading (in fact, if
I don't have something to read, I'll start yanking
cans off the shelves and reading the labels!)
And I therefore feel qualified to say...that you
definitely have some talent...and it is not hard
at all to imagine a publishing company reaching
the same conclusion.
In case you have privately said to yourself "aw,
its not that good...nobody would want to print it"...
There is... or used to be....a really lame 'super martial-
arts' paper-back series called 'The Destroyer' on which
the movie 'Remo Williams...The Adventure Begins' is
based. I have read many of that series..and I can
tell you with certainty...that I have never read anything
so corny and rediculous in my life...and how on earth
anything like that ever got published is beyond me!!!
The characters...the plots...the capabilities of the heros
are all so....CRAZY....and just plain GOOFY...that you
can only wonder what the author was smoking!
One would think that such drivel would never make
it past the publisher's trash can....but somehow, it
made it into publication! Must have been a case of
'so bad, its good'! Anyhow, what I was trying to say
is...if 'The Destroyer' could impress someone....'We
Interrupt This Program' Should have no problem at
all! Alan....go for it!!!
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
February 14, 2003 – Valentines
John turned his collar up as snow tried to sift down the back of his neck. The wind was beginning to pick up after a brief lull and the clouds looked pregnant with snow. The fat Navy transport appeared to float down out of the cloud ceiling like a monstrous snowflake and touched the ground in a white puff. The roar of the turbines crossed the distance and washed over him. The plane shed most of its forward velocity before taxiing up to the flight line buildings to John’s left. The engines slowed into idle and a fuselage hatch opened, lowering a ladder. A crew member hopped out then put his hand up to assist those coming behind. A woman in naval uniform climbed out then helped out two children. The crew member pointed at the building in front of them. Another crew member in the plane began to hand out luggage, two duffel bags. The woman picked up the smaller bag and took the younger child by the hand. The older child picked up the other bag and they moved towards the building. John began walking towards them as they made their way to the door.
When he’d approached within fifty feet the woman looked up and recognized him. She and the children stopped as he closed the distance. He opened the door and they all passed inside. In the warmth of the building she put the bag down in one of the waiting room chairs and the older child did the same. The woman turned and said, “Hello John. I’m glad you were able to come meet us. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to arrange anything closer. It was either here or Atlanta and I remember how much you dislike large cities. Pensacola has only been open for about a month.”
He hugged his sister tightly and then picked up his nephew Neil and gave his niece Cindy a big hug. “It’s OK Carla. Just now I imagine arranging any sort of air transport without some sort of priority must be difficult. It’s a pretty straight shot from Gainesville to Pensacola. First time I’ve ever been to the base though. They’ve done an excellent job of cleaning up the damage it seems or the tsunami didn’t come in very far here.”
With an air of excitement the children closely examined their uncle whom they had not seen for nearly four years. He examined them as well. He was shocked at the years he saw in Carla’s face and her thinness. The family did not run to thin and it looked unnatural and unhealthy on her. To his eye the children looked thin too. “Do you really have cows and goats Uncle John?” Neil asked. He’d never seen the Horne homestead.
The man smiled. “Yes, Neil, I really do. Chickens, pigs, turkeys, and a horse too. You’ll see them all tomorrow.”
“Wow!” the boy said excitedly.
He led them all to a table at the far end of the room away from the doors. There were vending machines in the corner and he began to drop coins into the coffee machine and punching the hot chocolate button for the kids, coffee for himself and his sister. Carrying the cups back to the table he handed them out and sat down.
“How was the trip?” he asked.
“Not too bad except for stopping at every little air patch between here and San Diego.” She replied. “Ride gets a little bumpy on the way up and down.” Both of them seemed to be having difficulty starting a conversation.
“You look thin. Can’t the Navy feed it’s people? Even the kids look thin.” He reached out and took her hand, turning it over to examine it.
“Well, we’ve bounced around a lot and it’s been tough a time or two.” She explained, “It’s not in the news so much but things are really tight in the military just now. Between the Middle East and Taiwan the Navy is badly stretched. It’s not always the most interesting food, but we’ve been able to eat. It’s mostly stress I think. We’ve moved eight times since we evacced out of Norfolk. The powers that be have decided to disperse as much as they can out of the fixed bases. They don’t come out and say so but everyone knows it’s because they’re afraid we’ll be attacked here in the States. With all the base closures of the last twenty years the remaining bases had a lot crammed into them meaning that the complete loss of one could be a serious blow to our ability to wage war. With the loss of the East coast bases and most of the Gulf bases sustaining some degree of damage there’s not a lot of places for the Navy to spread out to. There’s a lot of reserve bases and other facilities being pressed into service like they haven’t seen since Vietnam from what some of the senior chiefs tell me.”
He glanced at the duffel bags in the chairs and asked, “Is there more to come later or is that all of their stuff?”
Carla looked at the at the kids for a moment before replying. “That’s it I’m afraid. Of course, all we got out with was what we were wearing when we fled Norfolk and there hasn’t been much opportunity to replace what we lost.” Her eyes glistened and she did not look at anyone but she kept her voice low and steady. “It was just as well, with all the bouncing around we’ve done we probably couldn’t have carried much more with us. The kids both have a fair amount of clothing, extra shoes, their toiletries, some toys and a few books.” She reached inside her coat and took out an envelope. She pushed it across the table to him. “Here. There’s a hundred dollars in there for whatever the kids may need. Still doesn’t sound like much to me but it should be enough until I can get the paperwork arranged for regular money to come to you. I advise you not to deposit that and to draw all future transfers out in cash as soon as possible.”
“Oh?” he asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m expecting a large number of the remaining banks in the U.S. to fail before the year is out and the survivors to be badly damaged. Information management is what I do John, I’m good at it. I see things that the news media doesn’t and wouldn’t report if they did. Just now the Treasury and Federal Reserve are moving mountains trying to keep the U.S. financial system from imploding. Personally, I don’t think they can. The dollar devaluation helped a lot but there’s too many interrelated forces at work here to forestall it for long. Don’t take on any secured debts, don’t keep anything in any financial institution that you absolutely don’t have to, and don’t keep too much paper money on hand. Keep whatever wealth you have in tangible goods. Our economic roller coaster hasn’t made it to the big drop yet.”
He smiled faintly. “Pretty much what we’re doing now. Not that we have much cash anyway. That’ll change a little now that I’ve agreed to let Luke give us cash directly. Ann and Lisa finally wore me down on that one. Their house is repaired and on the market so it’s not a burden for them. The only secured debts we have are the mortgage on the farm and Ann’s car neither of which we can quickly pay off. We’ve prepared about as well for an economic meltdown as we can prepare.”
“Good.” She tried to return the smile, not quite making it. “I’ll be throwing into the house kitty as well. Three quarters of my take home pay will be coming to you every month. Whatever you don’t need for the kids, keep half for the house and put the other half in a canning jar or something for me, preferably in silver or gold if you can find it.”
He shook his head, “That doesn’t leave much for you to live on Carla! We can get by on a lot less than that.”
She gave him a genuine grin this time and said, “What do I need money for, stupid! I’m single and will be living in the women’s barracks or on a ship when I get back. Other than some minor expenses for toiletries, clothes and what not I won’t have anything to spend it on and no place to spend it most likely if I did want to buy something. I want it to go to the kids. If there’s anything left over you can hold it for me until I get back.”
“OK” he smiled, “I’ll let you know when the first one comes in. Is there anything special I should know about the kids?”
She looked at them for a long time before saying anything. “No, I guess not. Cindy has been a real trooper in helping out. She’s got a good level head on her shoulders and is wise beyond her years. Had to be. Neil has grown up… a lot… since the Impact. They’re good students. They’ll do what you tell them. I’m sure they’ll get along fine with Melinda, Brittany, and Heather… I’d really like to see them all playing together.”
The outside door opened and one of the transport crew members came in, looked around until he saw them at their table and walked across the room. He was a young man, red haired with freckles and reminded John strongly of Radar O’Reilly without the glasses. He looked like he wasn’t old enough to have a driver’s license. “Ma’am” he said to Carla, “Skipper said to tell you he’s about to lift.” Looking around the empty room he continued, “I can probably give you a few more minutes. I’ll tell him you were in the lady’s – if that’s alright with you ma’am.”
Carla nodded her head and replied, “That’ll be fine. Thank you. Carry on.”
“Yes ma’am” he said and walked across to the vending machines to buy candy bars.
John tousled Neil’s hair saying to the children, “How about you two keep an eye on your bags for me for a moment after you finish your goodbyes with your mother. I’ll walk her back to the plane when you’re done.”
Tears ran down Neil’s face as he tightly gripped his mother but he didn’t bawl which impressed John. Cindy tried to sniff her tears back as she wrapped her arms around her mother as well. Carla clutched them to herself as if afraid they would be snatched away. No one spoke for a time then finally their mother said, “Now you two mind what Uncle John and Aunt Ann tell you! I want you both to keep up on your schoolwork! Aunt Ann runs a tight ship on education. I’ll write you every week but mail may be spotty so don’t freak out if you don’t get one every week. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. I love you both very much.”
“I love you too mommy” Neil snuffled, burying his face in her coat. “Me too mama. We’ll miss you. Come back to us as soon as you can!” Cindy said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She gave them a last squeeze and then gently detached them from her person. “You two stay here like Uncle John asked.” She buttoned up her coat, then she and John walked outside.
As they crossed the snow covered concrete John asked Carla, “Is there anything you need to tell me that you didn’t want to say in front of the kids?”
She took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. “Thank you for sparing me a scene in there big brother. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep myself together.”
He smiled then said, “Well, I figured it would be easier on everyone like this.”
Putting the tissue back in her pocket. “I don’t know where I’ll end up after I get back but I’m pretty sure I won’t be in San Diego long. Likely I’ll go back on board ship or to an overseas posting. No deceptions between us John. We’re in for a fight. We slapped China down hard and she won’t cross us so openly again I think but every ten cent tyrant in the world is going to try us from time to time just to see if we still can. I don’t think we’ll see a lot of peace for America for the rest of my career. Taiwan will probably settle but China is going to make a hard push for the Spratley’s because she needs that oil. The Middle East is getting worse with every passing month if that’s possible. Al Saladin is proving to be a force to be reckoned with. There’s some in Mecca openly proclaiming him the Savior – no matter how many heads the Saudis lop off. Prince Sultan thinks he’s doing the manipulating but Naval Intelligence thinks Saladin will topple the House of Saud sometime in the relatively near future. All I know is that he’s put the wind up Naval Ops pretty bad. Bahrain, Oman, and Qatar are showing signs of getting squishy on us so our holdings in Iraq may not be secure.”
John frowned. “I’ve been halfway expecting it to bust loose over there for years. If not this Saladin fella it would be someone else.”
On familiar turf her tears were drying up and she continued with her debriefing. “It wouldn’t be so bad for the U.S. if we did lose the Middle East but Fox in Mexico is beginning to think he’s got the us by the short and curlies and is going to get very pushy about Aztlan. We can’t come out and say it but the President is very soft on that issue. If things get really tight some of us think he may roll over on the border states.”
John snorted, “Well, California may do any damn fool thing but I can’t see the other border states tolerating that. They’ve already taken back their National Guard troops, they’ll fight if they have to.”
“That’s what we figure as well, but no one can see how it will come out.” She continued, “If we lose the Middle East and Mexico refuses to sell us oil we’re going to be in an energy hurt because Venezuela may decide to back Mexico’s play. We’re not well loved in the Latin world.”
He rubbed his chin for a moment considering. “Well, you know? It’ll hurt like hell for a while, I’m sure as the economy re-evolves but in the long run I think it may be good for us. It’s a fool thing to do becoming vitally dependent on a foreign resource we don’t, or can’t, control. The University has three busses running on wood burners now and working on improvements to build more. We’re building our own methane digester. They just had a story in the news yesterday about building nuclear plants over to Cape Canaveral to power launching lasers for the space program. Apparently the lasers are coming from developments out of the missile defense program. I reckon they’ll probably build nukes all over. May be that we’re finally going to have to learn to stand on our own national feet again when it comes to energy.”
She nodded her head, “You’re right. But it’s going to be a rough ride for a while. War’s coming and energy and materials are going to be tight for a long time to come. We won’t be seeing things like we saw them before the Impact perhaps ever again in our lifetimes.”
The young crewman came out the door of the building and another one leaned out the open plane hatch and waved at them. Carla wrapped herself around her older brother’s chest and squoze him surprisingly hard. Tears began to leak out of her eyes again. “Take care of my babies for me John. Tell them that I love them everyday. See that they grow up tall and strong! They’re going to have to make their way in a hard world one day.” She let go suddenly, turned, and began to walk towards the plane. She climbed the ladder and disappeared inside without looking back. The engine sound began to build as the turbines whirled and blew loose snow around behind them. Gradually the plane began to turn and taxied towards the runway. At the end it paused momentarily and then with a rising whine it started forward moving faster and faster until at last the front wheels, then the rear left the ground and it rose into the infinite sky where it soon disappeared into the low leaden cloud cover.
After a time he turned and walked back towards the building. Inside he saw Cindy holding a tissue for Neil to blow his nose. He forced a smile as he entered the door, walked across the room, then said, “Are you kids hungry? Heather packed a lunch for you and it’s waiting in the truck. It’s a fair piece back to the house so if you want to sleep after you eat that’s OK.” He stooped and picked up their duffel bags and they headed towards the door.
“Will we be riding in a wagon to get home Uncle John?” Neil asked as they moved towards the parking lot.
“A wagon?!” John laughed, “Good lord no! At least not yet anyways. Might come to that before the end but not yet. That’s the truck right there and it’s got a good heater. I’ve had enough of my feet being cold for today.” He loaded their bags into the back of the cab then checked on the gas cans in the truck bed. It was seven hours from Gainesville to Pensacola and you still couldn’t always count on finding gasoline on the way so he’d brought enough to make it here and back without buying any. He’d also been sure to bring a rifle in addition to his pistol both of which he’d pick up from the SP’s at the gate. That much gasoline was worthy of a roadside hold up if someone knew you had it.
He loaded the kids into the truck and got out the cooler of food Heather had packed and handed out the sandwiches, cookies, and milk it contained which they received gladly. He unbuttoned his coat, got in and started the motor.
Pulling out of the lot with the new members of his family he started the long drive home.
John turned his collar up as snow tried to sift down the back of his neck. The wind was beginning to pick up after a brief lull and the clouds looked pregnant with snow. The fat Navy transport appeared to float down out of the cloud ceiling like a monstrous snowflake and touched the ground in a white puff. The roar of the turbines crossed the distance and washed over him. The plane shed most of its forward velocity before taxiing up to the flight line buildings to John’s left. The engines slowed into idle and a fuselage hatch opened, lowering a ladder. A crew member hopped out then put his hand up to assist those coming behind. A woman in naval uniform climbed out then helped out two children. The crew member pointed at the building in front of them. Another crew member in the plane began to hand out luggage, two duffel bags. The woman picked up the smaller bag and took the younger child by the hand. The older child picked up the other bag and they moved towards the building. John began walking towards them as they made their way to the door.
When he’d approached within fifty feet the woman looked up and recognized him. She and the children stopped as he closed the distance. He opened the door and they all passed inside. In the warmth of the building she put the bag down in one of the waiting room chairs and the older child did the same. The woman turned and said, “Hello John. I’m glad you were able to come meet us. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to arrange anything closer. It was either here or Atlanta and I remember how much you dislike large cities. Pensacola has only been open for about a month.”
He hugged his sister tightly and then picked up his nephew Neil and gave his niece Cindy a big hug. “It’s OK Carla. Just now I imagine arranging any sort of air transport without some sort of priority must be difficult. It’s a pretty straight shot from Gainesville to Pensacola. First time I’ve ever been to the base though. They’ve done an excellent job of cleaning up the damage it seems or the tsunami didn’t come in very far here.”
With an air of excitement the children closely examined their uncle whom they had not seen for nearly four years. He examined them as well. He was shocked at the years he saw in Carla’s face and her thinness. The family did not run to thin and it looked unnatural and unhealthy on her. To his eye the children looked thin too. “Do you really have cows and goats Uncle John?” Neil asked. He’d never seen the Horne homestead.
The man smiled. “Yes, Neil, I really do. Chickens, pigs, turkeys, and a horse too. You’ll see them all tomorrow.”
“Wow!” the boy said excitedly.
He led them all to a table at the far end of the room away from the doors. There were vending machines in the corner and he began to drop coins into the coffee machine and punching the hot chocolate button for the kids, coffee for himself and his sister. Carrying the cups back to the table he handed them out and sat down.
“How was the trip?” he asked.
“Not too bad except for stopping at every little air patch between here and San Diego.” She replied. “Ride gets a little bumpy on the way up and down.” Both of them seemed to be having difficulty starting a conversation.
“You look thin. Can’t the Navy feed it’s people? Even the kids look thin.” He reached out and took her hand, turning it over to examine it.
“Well, we’ve bounced around a lot and it’s been tough a time or two.” She explained, “It’s not in the news so much but things are really tight in the military just now. Between the Middle East and Taiwan the Navy is badly stretched. It’s not always the most interesting food, but we’ve been able to eat. It’s mostly stress I think. We’ve moved eight times since we evacced out of Norfolk. The powers that be have decided to disperse as much as they can out of the fixed bases. They don’t come out and say so but everyone knows it’s because they’re afraid we’ll be attacked here in the States. With all the base closures of the last twenty years the remaining bases had a lot crammed into them meaning that the complete loss of one could be a serious blow to our ability to wage war. With the loss of the East coast bases and most of the Gulf bases sustaining some degree of damage there’s not a lot of places for the Navy to spread out to. There’s a lot of reserve bases and other facilities being pressed into service like they haven’t seen since Vietnam from what some of the senior chiefs tell me.”
He glanced at the duffel bags in the chairs and asked, “Is there more to come later or is that all of their stuff?”
Carla looked at the at the kids for a moment before replying. “That’s it I’m afraid. Of course, all we got out with was what we were wearing when we fled Norfolk and there hasn’t been much opportunity to replace what we lost.” Her eyes glistened and she did not look at anyone but she kept her voice low and steady. “It was just as well, with all the bouncing around we’ve done we probably couldn’t have carried much more with us. The kids both have a fair amount of clothing, extra shoes, their toiletries, some toys and a few books.” She reached inside her coat and took out an envelope. She pushed it across the table to him. “Here. There’s a hundred dollars in there for whatever the kids may need. Still doesn’t sound like much to me but it should be enough until I can get the paperwork arranged for regular money to come to you. I advise you not to deposit that and to draw all future transfers out in cash as soon as possible.”
“Oh?” he asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m expecting a large number of the remaining banks in the U.S. to fail before the year is out and the survivors to be badly damaged. Information management is what I do John, I’m good at it. I see things that the news media doesn’t and wouldn’t report if they did. Just now the Treasury and Federal Reserve are moving mountains trying to keep the U.S. financial system from imploding. Personally, I don’t think they can. The dollar devaluation helped a lot but there’s too many interrelated forces at work here to forestall it for long. Don’t take on any secured debts, don’t keep anything in any financial institution that you absolutely don’t have to, and don’t keep too much paper money on hand. Keep whatever wealth you have in tangible goods. Our economic roller coaster hasn’t made it to the big drop yet.”
He smiled faintly. “Pretty much what we’re doing now. Not that we have much cash anyway. That’ll change a little now that I’ve agreed to let Luke give us cash directly. Ann and Lisa finally wore me down on that one. Their house is repaired and on the market so it’s not a burden for them. The only secured debts we have are the mortgage on the farm and Ann’s car neither of which we can quickly pay off. We’ve prepared about as well for an economic meltdown as we can prepare.”
“Good.” She tried to return the smile, not quite making it. “I’ll be throwing into the house kitty as well. Three quarters of my take home pay will be coming to you every month. Whatever you don’t need for the kids, keep half for the house and put the other half in a canning jar or something for me, preferably in silver or gold if you can find it.”
He shook his head, “That doesn’t leave much for you to live on Carla! We can get by on a lot less than that.”
She gave him a genuine grin this time and said, “What do I need money for, stupid! I’m single and will be living in the women’s barracks or on a ship when I get back. Other than some minor expenses for toiletries, clothes and what not I won’t have anything to spend it on and no place to spend it most likely if I did want to buy something. I want it to go to the kids. If there’s anything left over you can hold it for me until I get back.”
“OK” he smiled, “I’ll let you know when the first one comes in. Is there anything special I should know about the kids?”
She looked at them for a long time before saying anything. “No, I guess not. Cindy has been a real trooper in helping out. She’s got a good level head on her shoulders and is wise beyond her years. Had to be. Neil has grown up… a lot… since the Impact. They’re good students. They’ll do what you tell them. I’m sure they’ll get along fine with Melinda, Brittany, and Heather… I’d really like to see them all playing together.”
The outside door opened and one of the transport crew members came in, looked around until he saw them at their table and walked across the room. He was a young man, red haired with freckles and reminded John strongly of Radar O’Reilly without the glasses. He looked like he wasn’t old enough to have a driver’s license. “Ma’am” he said to Carla, “Skipper said to tell you he’s about to lift.” Looking around the empty room he continued, “I can probably give you a few more minutes. I’ll tell him you were in the lady’s – if that’s alright with you ma’am.”
Carla nodded her head and replied, “That’ll be fine. Thank you. Carry on.”
“Yes ma’am” he said and walked across to the vending machines to buy candy bars.
John tousled Neil’s hair saying to the children, “How about you two keep an eye on your bags for me for a moment after you finish your goodbyes with your mother. I’ll walk her back to the plane when you’re done.”
Tears ran down Neil’s face as he tightly gripped his mother but he didn’t bawl which impressed John. Cindy tried to sniff her tears back as she wrapped her arms around her mother as well. Carla clutched them to herself as if afraid they would be snatched away. No one spoke for a time then finally their mother said, “Now you two mind what Uncle John and Aunt Ann tell you! I want you both to keep up on your schoolwork! Aunt Ann runs a tight ship on education. I’ll write you every week but mail may be spotty so don’t freak out if you don’t get one every week. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. I love you both very much.”
“I love you too mommy” Neil snuffled, burying his face in her coat. “Me too mama. We’ll miss you. Come back to us as soon as you can!” Cindy said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She gave them a last squeeze and then gently detached them from her person. “You two stay here like Uncle John asked.” She buttoned up her coat, then she and John walked outside.
As they crossed the snow covered concrete John asked Carla, “Is there anything you need to tell me that you didn’t want to say in front of the kids?”
She took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. “Thank you for sparing me a scene in there big brother. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep myself together.”
He smiled then said, “Well, I figured it would be easier on everyone like this.”
Putting the tissue back in her pocket. “I don’t know where I’ll end up after I get back but I’m pretty sure I won’t be in San Diego long. Likely I’ll go back on board ship or to an overseas posting. No deceptions between us John. We’re in for a fight. We slapped China down hard and she won’t cross us so openly again I think but every ten cent tyrant in the world is going to try us from time to time just to see if we still can. I don’t think we’ll see a lot of peace for America for the rest of my career. Taiwan will probably settle but China is going to make a hard push for the Spratley’s because she needs that oil. The Middle East is getting worse with every passing month if that’s possible. Al Saladin is proving to be a force to be reckoned with. There’s some in Mecca openly proclaiming him the Savior – no matter how many heads the Saudis lop off. Prince Sultan thinks he’s doing the manipulating but Naval Intelligence thinks Saladin will topple the House of Saud sometime in the relatively near future. All I know is that he’s put the wind up Naval Ops pretty bad. Bahrain, Oman, and Qatar are showing signs of getting squishy on us so our holdings in Iraq may not be secure.”
John frowned. “I’ve been halfway expecting it to bust loose over there for years. If not this Saladin fella it would be someone else.”
On familiar turf her tears were drying up and she continued with her debriefing. “It wouldn’t be so bad for the U.S. if we did lose the Middle East but Fox in Mexico is beginning to think he’s got the us by the short and curlies and is going to get very pushy about Aztlan. We can’t come out and say it but the President is very soft on that issue. If things get really tight some of us think he may roll over on the border states.”
John snorted, “Well, California may do any damn fool thing but I can’t see the other border states tolerating that. They’ve already taken back their National Guard troops, they’ll fight if they have to.”
“That’s what we figure as well, but no one can see how it will come out.” She continued, “If we lose the Middle East and Mexico refuses to sell us oil we’re going to be in an energy hurt because Venezuela may decide to back Mexico’s play. We’re not well loved in the Latin world.”
He rubbed his chin for a moment considering. “Well, you know? It’ll hurt like hell for a while, I’m sure as the economy re-evolves but in the long run I think it may be good for us. It’s a fool thing to do becoming vitally dependent on a foreign resource we don’t, or can’t, control. The University has three busses running on wood burners now and working on improvements to build more. We’re building our own methane digester. They just had a story in the news yesterday about building nuclear plants over to Cape Canaveral to power launching lasers for the space program. Apparently the lasers are coming from developments out of the missile defense program. I reckon they’ll probably build nukes all over. May be that we’re finally going to have to learn to stand on our own national feet again when it comes to energy.”
She nodded her head, “You’re right. But it’s going to be a rough ride for a while. War’s coming and energy and materials are going to be tight for a long time to come. We won’t be seeing things like we saw them before the Impact perhaps ever again in our lifetimes.”
The young crewman came out the door of the building and another one leaned out the open plane hatch and waved at them. Carla wrapped herself around her older brother’s chest and squoze him surprisingly hard. Tears began to leak out of her eyes again. “Take care of my babies for me John. Tell them that I love them everyday. See that they grow up tall and strong! They’re going to have to make their way in a hard world one day.” She let go suddenly, turned, and began to walk towards the plane. She climbed the ladder and disappeared inside without looking back. The engine sound began to build as the turbines whirled and blew loose snow around behind them. Gradually the plane began to turn and taxied towards the runway. At the end it paused momentarily and then with a rising whine it started forward moving faster and faster until at last the front wheels, then the rear left the ground and it rose into the infinite sky where it soon disappeared into the low leaden cloud cover.
After a time he turned and walked back towards the building. Inside he saw Cindy holding a tissue for Neil to blow his nose. He forced a smile as he entered the door, walked across the room, then said, “Are you kids hungry? Heather packed a lunch for you and it’s waiting in the truck. It’s a fair piece back to the house so if you want to sleep after you eat that’s OK.” He stooped and picked up their duffel bags and they headed towards the door.
“Will we be riding in a wagon to get home Uncle John?” Neil asked as they moved towards the parking lot.
“A wagon?!” John laughed, “Good lord no! At least not yet anyways. Might come to that before the end but not yet. That’s the truck right there and it’s got a good heater. I’ve had enough of my feet being cold for today.” He loaded their bags into the back of the cab then checked on the gas cans in the truck bed. It was seven hours from Gainesville to Pensacola and you still couldn’t always count on finding gasoline on the way so he’d brought enough to make it here and back without buying any. He’d also been sure to bring a rifle in addition to his pistol both of which he’d pick up from the SP’s at the gate. That much gasoline was worthy of a roadside hold up if someone knew you had it.
He loaded the kids into the truck and got out the cooler of food Heather had packed and handed out the sandwiches, cookies, and milk it contained which they received gladly. He unbuttoned his coat, got in and started the motor.
Pulling out of the lot with the new members of his family he started the long drive home.
H
Halffast
Guest
Simply outstanding. Thanks.
David
David
G
Glandor
Guest
Ahh the shakes are subsiding...the pounding head is stopping...thanks much 
G
Glandor
Guest
Uh-oh...how'd this fall back so many pages? Oh well I'll fix it
BTTT
*sits in chair shaking, twitching, and pulling out hair waiting for next episode*
BTTT
*sits in chair shaking, twitching, and pulling out hair waiting for next episode*
H
Heinlein_Hellcat
Guest
Laurane, you forgot L. Neil Smith.
I signed up for TB2K just because of A.T. Hagan. I've been glued to this thread for weeks. I want an autographed copy of the hardcover when it comes out. I don't care how much it costs.
Jim
I signed up for TB2K just because of A.T. Hagan. I've been glued to this thread for weeks. I want an autographed copy of the hardcover when it comes out. I don't care how much it costs.
Jim
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
March 15, 2003 – Ides of March
“Daddy, would you look in the oven and see if that pan of cookies is about done? I’ve got a rack of bread pans ready to go in.” Melinda spoke over her shoulder standing at the sink washing up. “Breakfast will be on the table in a few minutes.”
Her father walked over to the oven and opened the door. The spicy smell of oatmeal raisin cookies washed over him and his stomach growled. He took a pot holder and slid the pan out into the light, judged they were a nice shade of gold and set them on an iron trivet on the counter. He then slid the rack out of the oven and slid the rack of bread pans in. He was glad the girls only did Miguel’s baking twice a week, the place was just too frenetic with activity otherwise. He poured himself a cup of coffee and went into the dining room to join the others. With ten people sitting down every day now they were too large a group for the kitchen table anymore and had to put the company table leaf in the dining room table to seat everyone.
A moment later Heather and Cindy came in with big bowls of grits and biscuits, followed by Brittany with the sausage then came Neil with the big bowl of scrambled eggs. They were just taking their seats when Melinda came in with a big glass pitcher of cold milk. John gave the grace and the group set into to filling their plates.
John was buttering a biscuit, looking at the big bowl of grits in front of him and said, “I’ve gotten right accustomed to the farm house atmosphere of a big family all sitting to the table together. Almost like a family reunion everyday. Going to miss that when y’all move out Luke.”
The doctor smiled as he spooned sugar into his coffee and replied, “Yes, it is nice isn’t it? We’ll just have to have each other over for breakfast occasionally for the nostalgia.”
Lisa said, “Well, I for one can’t wait to get moved in. You and Ann have been very gracious hosts but a woman wants a home of her own! I am going to miss having this crew doing the cooking though. Looks like I’ll have to resign myself to being assistant cook and back up to Heather. The way she’s blossomed these last few months I think there’s no question who’s the boss cook now!”
“You just want me to do all the cooking, that’s all.” Heather poked at her mother.
“And you’d be right!” He mother replied sticking her tongue out at daughter. “You’ve shown yourself capable of doing professional work my dear, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. Besides, with your dad and I both working full time and more, few restaurants having reopened and very little convenience foods in the grocery stores somebody’s got to do some real cooking again if we’re to eat at all. I’ve seen what Miguel is charging for your bakery goodies in his store, we can’t afford a steady diet of that stuff.”
“Well, I don’t know” her husband interjected, “I think the girls will still need objective opinions on their work. In order to advance their craft you know.”
“In order to advance your waistline you mean!” His wife retorted, “I’ve seen the way you and John can go through that stuff. It’s only because John said they can’t use the gas stove for their commercial baking and the girls are having to learn how to finesse a woodstove that you get to eat so much of their product. They’re getting better at it by the day, so you’re snacking ways are coming to an end mister!”
John and Luke’s faces fell at this but the conversation rolled on. Ann asked, “Have they set the date for the closing then? How exciting!”
Lisa beamed. “Yes, they have. It’s this coming Friday. Hank Gartner is meeting us at the title insurance place at noon and is going to bring Brittany. She’s very graciously allowed us to buy the furnishings except for her room with the caveat that we replace them all as soon as possible for which I don’t blame her. Hank’s agreeable with that. He’s setting up a trust fund for her with her share of the proceeds, but I expect you all already know that. Over the weekend we’ll have everything in the house moved out and the place completely repainted on the inside so it’ll look very different when it’s done. When the weather warms we’ll have the outside of the house painted. We’ll have those things that Brittany wants to keep brought here and then everything moved back in.”
She looked wistful for a moment then continued, “When we bought our first house we painted it ourselves. With circumstances being what they are neither of us can take the time from work now. We did find a painter who came well recommended who gave us a very good price for the job though. Things being the way they are there’s not a lot of work available so you can get skilled labor pretty cheap just now – if you can pay for it.”
Luke grinned ruefully. “Well John, you said Hank was sharp and you were right! He drove a hard bargain but seeing as how it was Brittany who was getting the real benefit of it that takes some of the sting out. The mortgage lender was going to get their share regardless. It still burns me though to have to sell our old place in town so cheaply. Ordinarily I’d have sat on it longer but we’re getting anxious about the financial system and were afraid if we waited much longer we might not be able to sell at all. It clinched the matter when I ran the thought past the agent and she agreed it was a good idea. That meant a substantial reduction in her commission. I’m thinking she felt a half a loaf was better than no loaf at all.”
Ann frowned at this and asked her husband, “John, if the bottom is going to fall out of the economy again what will this mean for Brittany’s trust? You met with Hank yesterday, is he worried?”
“Well” he replied, “actually, yes. He is. That’s what he wanted to see me about. We had a conference with the judge in his chambers about Brittany’s trust fund. He wanted us both involved. I was rather astonished when Hank said he wanted Brittany’s trust to be invested in gold – real gold as in bullion – rather than paper investments or some form of savings account. Hank’s pretty well off you know, he’s an architect by profession but he told me he made his real money in the stock market once he started making decent commissions. Said he thought we weren’t finished with the economic aftermath of the Impact and didn’t want Brittany to lose everything or most everything in the case of another market collapse or another dollar devaluation. When the judge AGREED I thought I’d fallen through the looking glass! He said it was irregular but he felt it was within his authority to allow it and if neither of us contested the decision then there wouldn’t be any problems. He did stipulate though that it had to be kept in a safe deposit box of a bank agreeable to us both and that it could not be withdrawn without both of our signatures or those who might be appointed by the court in the future. Hank’s already locked in a quote from a bullion dealer in Orlando and will wire him the money after the close Friday afternoon. The dealer will be shipping the gold directly to the First National Bank of Gainesville the following Monday. I was astonished at the price of gold right now even taking into account the dollar devaluation so it’s only going to be a small box, I’m afraid. Hank was anxious to close the deal with the dealer quickly because he said the price has been steadily rising ever since the devaluation.”
“Uncle John, I’m glad you and Mr. Gartner are doing this for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay either of you.”
Her ‘uncle’ smiled and said, “Brittany, YOU don’t have to pay either of US anything. We’re doing this because we feel it’s the right thing for us to do. It’s in both of our greater self-interests as we see it. Besides, one doesn’t pay these sorts of debts BACK, you pay them FORWARD.”
“Forward?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“What I mean is that one day you’ll have an opportunity to do something for someone else that you’ll realize is in your own greater self-interest to do. That’s when you’ll pay off that debt. This is not to say you have to go out and spend your life in public service but from time to time there might come an opportunity to help someone who deserves the help and you’ll do it because it makes your own world a bit better. I’m explaining this really badly I think. I’m beginning to sound like some sort of charitable appeal. I think I’ll stop while I’m behind.” He chuckled and took a swallow of his coffee.
“That’s OK Uncle John.” The girl replied, “I understand, or at least I think I do.”
“John, if Carla, Hank, and even the judge thinks we’re going to go through more economic turmoil is there anything we can do to make ourselves financially safer?” Ann looked very concerned.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve moved all of our money out of the bank other than what we have to have in there to pay immediate bills and keep the accounts open. The university insists on staying with electronic pay deposits so we have to stay with the bank. Same for Luke and Lisa. Except for my retirement we don’t have any paper investments and your retirement is the traditional state plan so it can’t be touched until you reach retirement age. It’s been over six months since the Impact and the university hasn’t called me back yet so I believe I have full control over my retirement accounts now so I suppose we could pay the penalty and withdraw it but we’d take a terrible beating to do it. Between the early withdrawal penalty and the loss of value of the various funds I’m in since the Impact we’d lose years of past growth. It has been on my mind though and I’d like to discuss it with you later.”
The prospects of yet more economic gloom brought conversation at the table to a standstill so everyone attended to their plates for a time.
Eventually Ann spoke, “I forgot to tell you my news last night. Edna Glass who works over in Publications lives in Archer. She asked if we could car pool in to work together. It’s been a real burden on her family for her to stay in town all week. With gas prices beginning to stabilize and us having ration cards we could carpool into work together. Yesterday morning she found another woman, Rachel Cartwright, who works in the College of Engineering who lives just south of Archer on U.S. 27 who will carpool with us. That leaves one empty seat so we’re looking for a fourth rider. Even at fifty cents a gallon for gas with at least three of us splitting the costs we could ride in to work together and come home every night! What do you think?”
The faces of all the children brightened at the prospect but John rubbed his chin. “Well, that’ll still be a buck, maybe even a buck and a half out of our pockets every week.” Ann’s jaw began to set into a firm line.
“John…” she said in a firm tone but he interrupted and said, “but I reckon it’ll be alright.” He winked at the kids and said, “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s been missing your company in the evenings.”
“You’re a stinker.” his aggrieved wife said as she smiled at him.
“I will be by the time Luke and I get through splitting that wood this morning!” John lamented, “Sure wish I’d never cut up that old live oak out in the pasture. That big limb wood is the twistiest stuff you ever saw. It’d give a hydraulic splitter a toothache and here all poor old Luke and I have is a maul, wedges, and a sledgehammer! Even at twenty degrees we’re going to work up a sweat!”
“It’ll do you good” his wife said eying his waist critically. “Lisa’s right. You two have been eating entirely too much of that stuff the girls have been making. You were starting to look like you did when I married you until they started baking on a commercial scale. I expect to get just years and years of wear out of you yet so you need to stay in shape!”
A tragic look came over her husband’s face and he said “yes, dear.”
-- -- -- --
THUNK - the maul sank handle deep into the oak round and stuck, the wood stubbornly refusing to split. John tiredly swore at it while Luke set a wedge into the crack it had opened. He brought the sledgehammer smartly down on it - once, twice, and on the third blow the wood sprang apart. They turned one of the halves and split it again into fourths. The pile of split wood had been steadily growing all morning. When that round had been completely split the put down their tools and took a break, basking in the sun.
“Well Luke, I was sure hoping that oak would split easier once it was frozen but I reckon not.” John sat down on a stack of yet to be split rounds.
Luke pulled out a bright red bandanna and mopped his face. “I don’t know John. Maybe it is splitting easier because it’s frozen.”
“Lord, if it would be even harder to split when it was warm I’d say let’s just roll this damn stuff off in the weeds! Wouldn’t be any way to split it short of just sawing into quarters with the chainsaw and this stuff’ll take the new off of a chain faster than any wood I’ve ever seen. Need to remember to try to find some new saw chains come to think of it. I’ve used this old Stihl more in the last six months than in the five years previous combined I think.” John reached for the big metal Thermos bottle and poured himself and Luke some hot coffee.
“The problem, my friend,” the surgeon said, “is that we’re getting too old for this. We should have sons to do all this splitting while you and I do the skilled work. Tis a pity that we both only had daughters. I think the women would object if we asked the girls to split wood.”
John grinned, “Well, why not? We wouldn’t be having to split so much if they weren’t cooking so much! But I imagine you’re right. Not that we’re not getting something for it though. Miguel came up with the last tank we need for the digester. I think we’ll start putting the system together next week. Ann’s got an acquaintance from the college in the Agricultural Engineering department who’s going to come out and help us assemble it all. He’s working on several digesters for the university, but not our model so he wants to get some hands on with it. They’re going to make a big push on building them throughout the state where ever there’s enough livestock to make them feasible.”
Luke thought about it for a moment then said, “Seems to me that the cities should be doing the same. Everybody excretes every day. That’s a lot of raw material.”
John nodded, “Yes it is, but Paul says the way our sewer systems are designed they put way too much water into the system. The sewage is too dilute to make good feedstock for a digester. He says they’re working on improving the systems to make use of human wastes but wholesale changes to city sewer systems probably won’t happen because the cities couldn’t pay for the amount of work that would need to be done.”
“Sounds like what needs to be done is to have everyone go back to using outhouses.” Luke observed.
“Yep, that would do it. Plenty of raw material and not too much water. Another year or two of what we’ve been dealing with for the past six months and we might even see a big movement that way though some of our fellow citizens would probably rather die than develop a personal relationship with their end products so to speak.” John grinned and drank deeply from his cup.
Luke shook his head and chuckled. “When they see what it’s going to cost them to heat their homes this year and find themselves caught between their wallets and their social mores most of them will come to their senses I think. The government will find itself hard put to get enough trained people out to teach others how to do it RIGHT to keep from spreading disease rather than having to encourage them to do it in the first place.”
“I don’t know Luke” the other man said shaking his head, “I’m not sure if even a staggering heating bill would be enough to motivate a majority of the American population. They’ve gotten much too comfortable with having everything in plenty and having it cheap. The fox gnaws real hard and I’ll bet we’ll start hearing plenty of folks hollering about just going and TAKING what we need. Lebensraum can be expressed in many ways.”
“Daddy, would you look in the oven and see if that pan of cookies is about done? I’ve got a rack of bread pans ready to go in.” Melinda spoke over her shoulder standing at the sink washing up. “Breakfast will be on the table in a few minutes.”
Her father walked over to the oven and opened the door. The spicy smell of oatmeal raisin cookies washed over him and his stomach growled. He took a pot holder and slid the pan out into the light, judged they were a nice shade of gold and set them on an iron trivet on the counter. He then slid the rack out of the oven and slid the rack of bread pans in. He was glad the girls only did Miguel’s baking twice a week, the place was just too frenetic with activity otherwise. He poured himself a cup of coffee and went into the dining room to join the others. With ten people sitting down every day now they were too large a group for the kitchen table anymore and had to put the company table leaf in the dining room table to seat everyone.
A moment later Heather and Cindy came in with big bowls of grits and biscuits, followed by Brittany with the sausage then came Neil with the big bowl of scrambled eggs. They were just taking their seats when Melinda came in with a big glass pitcher of cold milk. John gave the grace and the group set into to filling their plates.
John was buttering a biscuit, looking at the big bowl of grits in front of him and said, “I’ve gotten right accustomed to the farm house atmosphere of a big family all sitting to the table together. Almost like a family reunion everyday. Going to miss that when y’all move out Luke.”
The doctor smiled as he spooned sugar into his coffee and replied, “Yes, it is nice isn’t it? We’ll just have to have each other over for breakfast occasionally for the nostalgia.”
Lisa said, “Well, I for one can’t wait to get moved in. You and Ann have been very gracious hosts but a woman wants a home of her own! I am going to miss having this crew doing the cooking though. Looks like I’ll have to resign myself to being assistant cook and back up to Heather. The way she’s blossomed these last few months I think there’s no question who’s the boss cook now!”
“You just want me to do all the cooking, that’s all.” Heather poked at her mother.
“And you’d be right!” He mother replied sticking her tongue out at daughter. “You’ve shown yourself capable of doing professional work my dear, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. Besides, with your dad and I both working full time and more, few restaurants having reopened and very little convenience foods in the grocery stores somebody’s got to do some real cooking again if we’re to eat at all. I’ve seen what Miguel is charging for your bakery goodies in his store, we can’t afford a steady diet of that stuff.”
“Well, I don’t know” her husband interjected, “I think the girls will still need objective opinions on their work. In order to advance their craft you know.”
“In order to advance your waistline you mean!” His wife retorted, “I’ve seen the way you and John can go through that stuff. It’s only because John said they can’t use the gas stove for their commercial baking and the girls are having to learn how to finesse a woodstove that you get to eat so much of their product. They’re getting better at it by the day, so you’re snacking ways are coming to an end mister!”
John and Luke’s faces fell at this but the conversation rolled on. Ann asked, “Have they set the date for the closing then? How exciting!”
Lisa beamed. “Yes, they have. It’s this coming Friday. Hank Gartner is meeting us at the title insurance place at noon and is going to bring Brittany. She’s very graciously allowed us to buy the furnishings except for her room with the caveat that we replace them all as soon as possible for which I don’t blame her. Hank’s agreeable with that. He’s setting up a trust fund for her with her share of the proceeds, but I expect you all already know that. Over the weekend we’ll have everything in the house moved out and the place completely repainted on the inside so it’ll look very different when it’s done. When the weather warms we’ll have the outside of the house painted. We’ll have those things that Brittany wants to keep brought here and then everything moved back in.”
She looked wistful for a moment then continued, “When we bought our first house we painted it ourselves. With circumstances being what they are neither of us can take the time from work now. We did find a painter who came well recommended who gave us a very good price for the job though. Things being the way they are there’s not a lot of work available so you can get skilled labor pretty cheap just now – if you can pay for it.”
Luke grinned ruefully. “Well John, you said Hank was sharp and you were right! He drove a hard bargain but seeing as how it was Brittany who was getting the real benefit of it that takes some of the sting out. The mortgage lender was going to get their share regardless. It still burns me though to have to sell our old place in town so cheaply. Ordinarily I’d have sat on it longer but we’re getting anxious about the financial system and were afraid if we waited much longer we might not be able to sell at all. It clinched the matter when I ran the thought past the agent and she agreed it was a good idea. That meant a substantial reduction in her commission. I’m thinking she felt a half a loaf was better than no loaf at all.”
Ann frowned at this and asked her husband, “John, if the bottom is going to fall out of the economy again what will this mean for Brittany’s trust? You met with Hank yesterday, is he worried?”
“Well” he replied, “actually, yes. He is. That’s what he wanted to see me about. We had a conference with the judge in his chambers about Brittany’s trust fund. He wanted us both involved. I was rather astonished when Hank said he wanted Brittany’s trust to be invested in gold – real gold as in bullion – rather than paper investments or some form of savings account. Hank’s pretty well off you know, he’s an architect by profession but he told me he made his real money in the stock market once he started making decent commissions. Said he thought we weren’t finished with the economic aftermath of the Impact and didn’t want Brittany to lose everything or most everything in the case of another market collapse or another dollar devaluation. When the judge AGREED I thought I’d fallen through the looking glass! He said it was irregular but he felt it was within his authority to allow it and if neither of us contested the decision then there wouldn’t be any problems. He did stipulate though that it had to be kept in a safe deposit box of a bank agreeable to us both and that it could not be withdrawn without both of our signatures or those who might be appointed by the court in the future. Hank’s already locked in a quote from a bullion dealer in Orlando and will wire him the money after the close Friday afternoon. The dealer will be shipping the gold directly to the First National Bank of Gainesville the following Monday. I was astonished at the price of gold right now even taking into account the dollar devaluation so it’s only going to be a small box, I’m afraid. Hank was anxious to close the deal with the dealer quickly because he said the price has been steadily rising ever since the devaluation.”
“Uncle John, I’m glad you and Mr. Gartner are doing this for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay either of you.”
Her ‘uncle’ smiled and said, “Brittany, YOU don’t have to pay either of US anything. We’re doing this because we feel it’s the right thing for us to do. It’s in both of our greater self-interests as we see it. Besides, one doesn’t pay these sorts of debts BACK, you pay them FORWARD.”
“Forward?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“What I mean is that one day you’ll have an opportunity to do something for someone else that you’ll realize is in your own greater self-interest to do. That’s when you’ll pay off that debt. This is not to say you have to go out and spend your life in public service but from time to time there might come an opportunity to help someone who deserves the help and you’ll do it because it makes your own world a bit better. I’m explaining this really badly I think. I’m beginning to sound like some sort of charitable appeal. I think I’ll stop while I’m behind.” He chuckled and took a swallow of his coffee.
“That’s OK Uncle John.” The girl replied, “I understand, or at least I think I do.”
“John, if Carla, Hank, and even the judge thinks we’re going to go through more economic turmoil is there anything we can do to make ourselves financially safer?” Ann looked very concerned.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve moved all of our money out of the bank other than what we have to have in there to pay immediate bills and keep the accounts open. The university insists on staying with electronic pay deposits so we have to stay with the bank. Same for Luke and Lisa. Except for my retirement we don’t have any paper investments and your retirement is the traditional state plan so it can’t be touched until you reach retirement age. It’s been over six months since the Impact and the university hasn’t called me back yet so I believe I have full control over my retirement accounts now so I suppose we could pay the penalty and withdraw it but we’d take a terrible beating to do it. Between the early withdrawal penalty and the loss of value of the various funds I’m in since the Impact we’d lose years of past growth. It has been on my mind though and I’d like to discuss it with you later.”
The prospects of yet more economic gloom brought conversation at the table to a standstill so everyone attended to their plates for a time.
Eventually Ann spoke, “I forgot to tell you my news last night. Edna Glass who works over in Publications lives in Archer. She asked if we could car pool in to work together. It’s been a real burden on her family for her to stay in town all week. With gas prices beginning to stabilize and us having ration cards we could carpool into work together. Yesterday morning she found another woman, Rachel Cartwright, who works in the College of Engineering who lives just south of Archer on U.S. 27 who will carpool with us. That leaves one empty seat so we’re looking for a fourth rider. Even at fifty cents a gallon for gas with at least three of us splitting the costs we could ride in to work together and come home every night! What do you think?”
The faces of all the children brightened at the prospect but John rubbed his chin. “Well, that’ll still be a buck, maybe even a buck and a half out of our pockets every week.” Ann’s jaw began to set into a firm line.
“John…” she said in a firm tone but he interrupted and said, “but I reckon it’ll be alright.” He winked at the kids and said, “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s been missing your company in the evenings.”
“You’re a stinker.” his aggrieved wife said as she smiled at him.
“I will be by the time Luke and I get through splitting that wood this morning!” John lamented, “Sure wish I’d never cut up that old live oak out in the pasture. That big limb wood is the twistiest stuff you ever saw. It’d give a hydraulic splitter a toothache and here all poor old Luke and I have is a maul, wedges, and a sledgehammer! Even at twenty degrees we’re going to work up a sweat!”
“It’ll do you good” his wife said eying his waist critically. “Lisa’s right. You two have been eating entirely too much of that stuff the girls have been making. You were starting to look like you did when I married you until they started baking on a commercial scale. I expect to get just years and years of wear out of you yet so you need to stay in shape!”
A tragic look came over her husband’s face and he said “yes, dear.”
-- -- -- --
THUNK - the maul sank handle deep into the oak round and stuck, the wood stubbornly refusing to split. John tiredly swore at it while Luke set a wedge into the crack it had opened. He brought the sledgehammer smartly down on it - once, twice, and on the third blow the wood sprang apart. They turned one of the halves and split it again into fourths. The pile of split wood had been steadily growing all morning. When that round had been completely split the put down their tools and took a break, basking in the sun.
“Well Luke, I was sure hoping that oak would split easier once it was frozen but I reckon not.” John sat down on a stack of yet to be split rounds.
Luke pulled out a bright red bandanna and mopped his face. “I don’t know John. Maybe it is splitting easier because it’s frozen.”
“Lord, if it would be even harder to split when it was warm I’d say let’s just roll this damn stuff off in the weeds! Wouldn’t be any way to split it short of just sawing into quarters with the chainsaw and this stuff’ll take the new off of a chain faster than any wood I’ve ever seen. Need to remember to try to find some new saw chains come to think of it. I’ve used this old Stihl more in the last six months than in the five years previous combined I think.” John reached for the big metal Thermos bottle and poured himself and Luke some hot coffee.
“The problem, my friend,” the surgeon said, “is that we’re getting too old for this. We should have sons to do all this splitting while you and I do the skilled work. Tis a pity that we both only had daughters. I think the women would object if we asked the girls to split wood.”
John grinned, “Well, why not? We wouldn’t be having to split so much if they weren’t cooking so much! But I imagine you’re right. Not that we’re not getting something for it though. Miguel came up with the last tank we need for the digester. I think we’ll start putting the system together next week. Ann’s got an acquaintance from the college in the Agricultural Engineering department who’s going to come out and help us assemble it all. He’s working on several digesters for the university, but not our model so he wants to get some hands on with it. They’re going to make a big push on building them throughout the state where ever there’s enough livestock to make them feasible.”
Luke thought about it for a moment then said, “Seems to me that the cities should be doing the same. Everybody excretes every day. That’s a lot of raw material.”
John nodded, “Yes it is, but Paul says the way our sewer systems are designed they put way too much water into the system. The sewage is too dilute to make good feedstock for a digester. He says they’re working on improving the systems to make use of human wastes but wholesale changes to city sewer systems probably won’t happen because the cities couldn’t pay for the amount of work that would need to be done.”
“Sounds like what needs to be done is to have everyone go back to using outhouses.” Luke observed.
“Yep, that would do it. Plenty of raw material and not too much water. Another year or two of what we’ve been dealing with for the past six months and we might even see a big movement that way though some of our fellow citizens would probably rather die than develop a personal relationship with their end products so to speak.” John grinned and drank deeply from his cup.
Luke shook his head and chuckled. “When they see what it’s going to cost them to heat their homes this year and find themselves caught between their wallets and their social mores most of them will come to their senses I think. The government will find itself hard put to get enough trained people out to teach others how to do it RIGHT to keep from spreading disease rather than having to encourage them to do it in the first place.”
“I don’t know Luke” the other man said shaking his head, “I’m not sure if even a staggering heating bill would be enough to motivate a majority of the American population. They’ve gotten much too comfortable with having everything in plenty and having it cheap. The fox gnaws real hard and I’ll bet we’ll start hearing plenty of folks hollering about just going and TAKING what we need. Lebensraum can be expressed in many ways.”
, “I’m not sure if even a staggering heating bill would be enough to motivate a majority of the American population. They’ve gotten much too comfortable with having everything in plenty and having it cheap. The fox gnaws real hard and I’ll bet we’ll start hearing plenty of folks hollering about just going and TAKING what we need. Lebensraum can be expressed in many ways.”
Darn right, I'm not sure that anything serious could motivate a majority of the population to get off their lazy rear ends and do something to better their own situation.
I'd hazard a guess that most people would/will be waiting for FEMA/the Fed Gov to come in and save them.
I can't tell you how much I look forward to reading another chapter, thanks for all your hard work and effort.
Darn right, I'm not sure that anything serious could motivate a majority of the population to get off their lazy rear ends and do something to better their own situation.
I'd hazard a guess that most people would/will be waiting for FEMA/the Fed Gov to come in and save them.
I can't tell you how much I look forward to reading another chapter, thanks for all your hard work and effort.
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
Re: Great Storytellers of our Generation....
<i>And L. Neil Smith as per the Heinlein_Hellcat.</i>
OK guys, you're laying it on a little THICK here!
But seriously though, if you'd like to support this story and any others in the future that madness may produce how about sending Dennis a few bucks to support the board? This place is a very good venue for this sort of thing and we should help to keep it afloat.
Hellcat, I <b>like</b> your handle!
I've lost track but you're the twelth or thirteenth lurker to come out of the closet so to speak. Glad to see all of you!
Meant to put this up yesterday but our afternoon thunderstorms were rolling in making my power do bad things.
.....Alan.
Laurane said:
<i>And L. Neil Smith as per the Heinlein_Hellcat.</i>
OK guys, you're laying it on a little THICK here! But seriously though, if you'd like to support this story and any others in the future that madness may produce how about sending Dennis a few bucks to support the board? This place is a very good venue for this sort of thing and we should help to keep it afloat.
Hellcat, I <b>like</b> your handle!
I've lost track but you're the twelth or thirteenth lurker to come out of the closet so to speak. Glad to see all of you!
Meant to put this up yesterday but our afternoon thunderstorms were rolling in making my power do bad things.
.....Alan.
H
Heinlein_Hellcat
Guest
A.T. Hagan,
Thanks. I owe a debt to R.A.H. for reaching me and planting a seed in my young, impressionable mind. L. Neil Smith is now the standard-bearer of libertarian SF and one of his E-lists is where I first saw a link to this thread. I've been hooked ever since.
As for supporting the site, I hope the boys up in Hudson accept non-sequential FRN's in plain white envelopes. That's the way I was taught to contribute. My dad always threw away those pre-printed personalized contribution envelopes that the church sent out every year in favor of the plain white untraceable type.
I don't believe in government. It doesn't exist. There are Producers, and there are Thieves in this world. If one is not sure which category one falls into then it is surely the latter. I avoid the Thieves and lend support to the Producers. I pay my own way. TANSTAAFL. That is not only how it should be -it's how it IS. Anything to the contrary is merely fantasy.
Thank you A.T. Hagan.
Jim
Thanks. I owe a debt to R.A.H. for reaching me and planting a seed in my young, impressionable mind. L. Neil Smith is now the standard-bearer of libertarian SF and one of his E-lists is where I first saw a link to this thread. I've been hooked ever since.
As for supporting the site, I hope the boys up in Hudson accept non-sequential FRN's in plain white envelopes. That's the way I was taught to contribute. My dad always threw away those pre-printed personalized contribution envelopes that the church sent out every year in favor of the plain white untraceable type.
I don't believe in government. It doesn't exist. There are Producers, and there are Thieves in this world. If one is not sure which category one falls into then it is surely the latter. I avoid the Thieves and lend support to the Producers. I pay my own way. TANSTAAFL. That is not only how it should be -it's how it IS. Anything to the contrary is merely fantasy.
Thank you A.T. Hagan.
Jim
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
April 15, 2003 - Death & Taxes
"John Robert Horne you are NOT taking our child to see that… that… bloody circus!" Fire flashed from Ann's eyes as she confronted her husband.
Regretting having broached the topic but resolved to see it through to its necessary end John kept his voice low and steady as he attempted to reason with his infuriated wife. "Ann, all I'm saying is she has the RIGHT to choose for her own self if she wants to go or not. She EARNED that right when she shot dead a man who was about to kill her father. Whether we like it or not Melinda is no longer a stranger to violent death and nothing you or I can do will change that. She was THERE. If it were not for the wholly unexpected and providential attack that her dog made upon Denny Redman he would very likely have murdered her after they had murdered me. I'm not saying I WILL take her to see his execution, all I'm saying is that I will offer her the CHOICE of going or not. If she CHOOSES to go I will take her - just her - and not anyone else. In spite of our best efforts the world thrust itself upon her and took away her innocence about violence and death. If she feels the need for this sort of closure then it is her right to have it IF she so chooses. Now this is the end of the matter. I'm going to go out there and bring her back in here and explain her choices to her and she will decide for herself - without interference." He let out his breath in a long, slow exhalation then turned and walked through the door.
In the dining room he found his daughter doing her schoolwork with the other children of the household. "Mel, may I speak with you a moment please?" he asked. The girl looked up, concerned about the grave expression on her father's face. "Yes sir" she said and rose from her chair to follow him.
In the bedroom she found her mother plainly upset but silent and began to worry even more. Observing the emotions playing across his daughter's face John quickly moved to assure her there was nothing of which to be alarmed. "It's OK honey. You're not in trouble and we're not going to tell you anything bad. I just want to ask you a question and I want you to give me your honest answer and that will be the end of the matter for now and forever. Do you understand?"
The girl nodded her head gravely. "Yes sir. I understand. At least I think I do."
Her father smiled. "Good enough. What I want to ask you is this. Denny Redman, the man you testified against at his trial last month, is going to be executed today in Gainesville. If YOU choose to do so I will take you with me to see him hang. It's YOUR choice and I want your honest answer. Neither your mother or I are going to tell you to stay or go. We want you to decide as you think best on this matter. Do you want to stay here or go with me."
The girl said nothing for a time but looked at her father, then her mother, then finally coming back to look at her father. "If it's all the same to you daddy, I don't think I want to see Mr. Redman be hanged."
Her father nodded and said, "Very well. It's your choice, you earned the right to make it. If you choose not to go that is the way it will be." He bent over and kissed his daughter on her forehead then said, "Go on back and finish your schoolwork. I'll see you this evening."
She looked at her mother again, said "Yes sir" then walked out of the room.
When the door closed Ann turned to her husband and said, "Well, I'm glad of that! She's been traumatized enough without her watching such a spectacle of death as these executions have become."
John let out a long sigh. "Darlin', she's made her decision and the matter is closed." He crossed the room and took her into his arms and kissed her. "Now I've got to be going. Carla's transfer should have cleared the bank by now and I want to get it out so I need to be moving. I'll be stopping by the salvage yard and some other errands on the way back so if I'm not back by six don't wait supper on me."
She crossed her arms sternly but her face lost some of its harshness. "I'd just as soon YOU didn't go either but I know better than try to dissuade you when you're resolved in your pigheaded stubbornness to go. Be careful, the weather service said we might get some freezing rain out of this front coming through this afternoon. Before you go, you need to sign the tax forms on the desk and get them into the mail postmarked TODAY so they won't be late."
John scowled, "I swear, nothing but nothing will ever hurt the godda… uh, the government so bad that they won't have their hands out to get theirs. They should owe US this year but do you think we're likely to see any of it they way they're blowing it out their butts and the shape the economy is in?"
His wife just gave him a philosophical smile and said nothing. She'd long ago become accustomed to her husband's rants about the government, taxes, and anything else he felt impeded his ability to provide for his family.
Seeing that his wife wasn't going to give him any satisfying reaction he relented, smiled, then said, "Yes dear. I sure hope it doesn't go to freezing again. The ground looks like it's just getting dry enough to plow." He put on his coat and picked up his hat then headed for the door.
Outside he detoured to go by the barn and check on the chickens in their holding pens. Their first two attempts at incubation had been very disappointing but after having Ann consult with one of the few remaining poultry specialists left at the university they'd diagnosed the problems with their techniques and had begun to achieve acceptable hatches. They now had a couple hundred birds - Plymouth Barred Rocks, Buff Orpingtons, Rhode Island and New Hampshire Reds, White Wyandottes, Australorps, and Pearl White Leghorns steadily growing large enough to turn out onto pasture as soon as the last of the snow and ice had passed. He'd just that morning taken the Leghorns out of the brooder so that it could be cleaned and readied for the goslings he expected to get from Eddy Morganstern soon and the turkey poults he expected to take out of the incubator in another week or so. He'd been carefully explaining the ins and outs of poultry breeding to the children so they could start a program of weeding out the less desirable stock from their future breeding flock and working in a number of biology lessons for their homeschooling efforts from it as well. He'd also promised birds to both Ed Strickland and Miguel Alvarez in return for loaning him several breeds of roosters he did not have to mate with the same breeds of hens he did have. So far the project was coming along quite satisfactorily.
Reassured the birds were secure and content he quickly looked over the milking stand and equipment. The girls did a good job of milking but occasionally grew a little slack in keeping their equipment clean which is a cardinal sin when using raw, unpasteurized milk. He checked behind them often enough to keep them on their toes. He also saw that he'd soon need to muck out the stalls again which made his back twinge. "I really need another pair of hands around here to share the heavy work." He muttered to himself. "Now that the Hatcher's have a place of their own I ought to talk to Mike and Stevie about hiring him out part-time."
Satisfied there was nothing needing his urgent attention he walked over to his truck, got in, fired it up and pulled out from under the shelter moving towards the gate. As he was closing it behind him after pulling the truck through he could see Jake, Andy and Bad in the pasture, basking in the sun. He'd been working with them for the last several months to try and improve their livestock-guardian traits but still wasn't sure if anything worthwhile was going to come of it. If it didn't he'd already talked to a man down to Williston about buying two Great Pyrenees pups from a litter due to whelp in another couple of weeks and given him deposits on them. Losing livestock to predators was much more important now than it ever had been before and he wasn't going to keep anymore non-working yard dogs. They either pulled their weight or they got fed to the pigs. Except for Jake, he'd paid his freight in full forevermore. He hoped he'd managed to communicate this to Andy and Bad, but if not their replacements would be along presently.
He looked up at the sky as he headed north towards Archer and sure enough the gray sky looked pregnant with precipitation. "Just rain, damnit, just rain. I've had enough snow and ice to last me the rest of my life." Another mile and the first drops began to spatter the windshield making him scowl as he turned on his wipers and lights. A few minutes later he pulled up in front of Miguel's store and the owner came out and got in the truck. "Buenos dias John!" he said. Looking out the window at the rainfall he continued, "Well, the weather seems to be appropriate for the occasion, no?"
John shook his head. "Maybe it'll keep the crowd a little more somber this time. When Archie Lauren took his fall I was a little appalled at the level of excitement."
Miguel shrugged. "I have read that when public executions were the norm that whole families used to watch and bring picnic lunches for the occasion. I'm glad to see that Melinda will not be there to see it."
"Heh" John gave a rueful grin. "Her mother and I had quite a battle over it this morning. I gave Mel the choice and she chose not to. About what I expected but I felt it important for her to choose for herself."
"Your daughter is wise for her years, my friend. I am glad she will not be going. Were I not so unfortunately involved I would not be attending myself but I feel a certain fatalistic compulsion to take this matter to its final end." The truck turned onto the Gainesville road and Miguel looked out across the field behind the bank, lost in his thoughts.
The two men shared a companionable silence for the ride into Gainesville until they passed the Albertson's grocery store where two dozen or more cars could be seen parked out front. "Looks their business is starting to pick up, at least there's more cars out front than I've seen in a while. They starting to affect you any?"
Miguel studied the store for a moment while they waited for their light to change. "No. Very little actually. It's ten miles from Archer to Gainesville and many cannot afford the gasoline to come into town to shop so they come to me. Besides, I sell many locally produced foods - such as the baked goods your girls make for me. These big chain stores have difficulty in doing that, being very dependent on centrally located distribution warehouses. In time, perhaps, that will change and they will become more competitive but then they would more closely resemble me than I would resemble them. Some foods we must all import from far away - coffee, sugar, tea, spices, and other such products but shipping is now very expensive. This greatly impacts the prices one must charge in order to make a profit. So long as fuel remains costly it will be cost competitive to produce more things nearby even if the climate isn't quite as conducive for doing so as it is somewhere else much further away."
John nodded his head. "You're right about the fuel at least. If I had to pay road fuel prices for my ag diesel I wouldn't be able to farm at all. This is going to cause a serious change in the way agriculture in America works if fuel stays expensive for a long while and it sure looks like it's going to with many of the Persian Gulf states cutting back on their output to keep prices high."
"This is true John, but were it not for their actions - short sighted in my eyes - many of the alternative fuel technologies now starting to blossom such as your methane digester would not be cost effective. Perhaps Sheik Saladin believes he is tormenting us but I think he is actually doing us a great favor. There will be pain, yes, as our economy adjusts to the new reality but we will surely learn to stand more strongly upon our own resources than his. The people must still eat, they want to stay warm, and have light to see by so they will spend their money on those things even if it means they cannot buy a new car as often as they'd like or see the latest Hollywood production as often as they'd prefer."
John stopped for another red light - with so little traffic these days why did they keep so many in use? - and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hell, I don't care if gas goes to a dollar, I mean ten cents a gallon. We're going to go right on using that gas digester regardless. As long as I can grow grass and corn and have stock to eat it I'll have the raw material to produce my own fuel. If I could produce my own fuel for vehicular use I'd do that as well. Unfortunately, no one's come up with a very efficient way to use methane for mobile use, molecular weight is too light. I'd REALLY like one of those diesel-electric hybrids they've been talking about in the news lately. They showed one last night in a NOVA documentary rigged up as a half-ton pickup truck.. They didn't mention any prices though but I imagine they'll be steep. Wouldn't surprise me if they went for $2,000 or more."
Miguel smiled. "Mark Holloway owns the Ford agency up to Alachua. We've shot doves together on his father's farm. I'll ask him what he hears from Detroit about these vehicles."
The light turned and they pulled through heading downtown. It still surprised him to see the tall gallows scaffold in front of the courthouse even though he'd already witnessed one hanging. In spite of the light, steady rain and occasionally gusty wind a crowd of about sixty people had gathered to witness the execution. Much like the execution of Archie Lauren that had come before about half of the crowd were black. There had actually been very little racial violence in Gainesville itself but this had not stopped rumors from running like wildfire through the black and white communities about what one group or another was plotting to do. The two men got out of the truck, put on their rain slickers, snugged down their hats and joined the crowd. A bailiff passing through the crowd recognized John and said "Good morning Deputy Horne" on his way into the courthouse. Around him he could hear muted whispering starting to spread as the fact of his identity began to circulate. Couldn't be helped so he ignored it.
After about ten minutes a slow drum began to play and the gathered spectators fell silent. John wondered again why the prison system felt the need for such martial sounding music but supposed it worked as well as anything to let the crowd know how to behave by cuing them on what was about to happen. A few seconds after the drum sounded the doors from the bottom of the courthouse opened and an assembly of corrections officers marched out, not all of them managing to stay in step, with the hooded executioner leading and the condemned man in the middle. John studied him closely. He looked now less like the murderous Klansman he'd been on the day of the shootout than he did a frightened and bewildered young man. His hair was cut very close and he could see a large, purple bruise on his right temple that had not been there when he'd last seen him on the day of his trial. The drum continued its funeral cadence as the assemblage crossed the distance from the doors to the gallows between a cordon of deputies keeping the assembled watchers at a distance. On top of the courthouse and the city offices facing it he could see Sheriff's department riflemen prominently poised to discourage any interference in the proceedings.
When the executioner reached the bottom of the steps the drum made a minute, but noticeable change to its cadence and they began to ascend the thirteen steps. John tried to recall the significance behind that number of steps on a gallows but it would not come to him. At the top the officers stood Redman on the short platform on the deck facing the noose hanging at just below head level. The guard sergeant read out the charges that he'd been convicted of, the multiple deaths of his Klan cohorts, and Melinda's kidnapping, being the most grievous of them, then he read out the sentence that had been passed upon him by the court. When he finished he asked the young man if he had any final words and with a barely perceptible shake of his head he indicated he did not. How different this one is John thought compared to Archie Lauren who had glared at the crowd and gave as his last words a poison-filled diatribe against the nation's ZOG controlled government, mud people, and ****** lovers in general until at last the sergeant had silenced him. The difference between the True Believer and a young man who had not yet completely sold his soul to fanaticism and now realizes too late the consequences of his actions.
The sergeant stepped back and a man in a clerical collar came forward with a bible in his hands. He and the young man bowed their heads and prayed, earnestness written across the face of the condemned. Finally, the prayer was finished and the holy man stepped back. The young man's face came up, resigned to his fate and clear eyed now. He looked over the crowd coming it seemed straight to John where they locked eyes for a moment until the executioner brought the black hood down over his head and carefully placed the noose, snugging it up to keep it from shifting. Lauren had done the same thing, finding and locking eyes with John out of a crowd of people numbering seemingly several hundred. He had refused a hood, shouting loudly that he wanted to look at his murderers as he died and so he had, staring at John the entire time until the rope lifted him off the platform after which he never saw anything in this world again. Perhaps we'll meet again someday John thought but at least you'll have gotten there before me.
The executioner stepped back now placing his hand on the ring pin holding up the carefully weighted sandbag and looked at the guard officer. Suddenly the drums rolled and the officer nodded his head and the executioner gave the ring a smart pull from its socket, releasing the sand bag into its long, long fall that would jerk Redman out of this world and into the next before it came to rest at the end of its rope. The sound of a thump could be heard when the bag hit its bottom and upon the scaffold the hooded figure turned slightly in the breeze, seemingly to look more fully upon John, its legs twitching. The crowd stood silently for a few moments looking upward then without speaking John and Miguel turned and began to walk back to the truck, stripping off their slickers when they reached it.
After they'd got in and cranked the motor, it's welcome warmth playing over them from the heater vents John said, "With luck and by the Grace of God that's the last one of those I'll ever feel the need to watch."
Miguel said nothing for a moment then replied, "My friend, I devoutly hope this to be true. Witnessing more than a very few such events as that I believe would be very corrosive to the soul."
Pulling out onto the main road they headed towards East Gainesville and the Recovery Corp salvage yards to find the materials they needed to build a better life for those who still retained it.
"John Robert Horne you are NOT taking our child to see that… that… bloody circus!" Fire flashed from Ann's eyes as she confronted her husband.
Regretting having broached the topic but resolved to see it through to its necessary end John kept his voice low and steady as he attempted to reason with his infuriated wife. "Ann, all I'm saying is she has the RIGHT to choose for her own self if she wants to go or not. She EARNED that right when she shot dead a man who was about to kill her father. Whether we like it or not Melinda is no longer a stranger to violent death and nothing you or I can do will change that. She was THERE. If it were not for the wholly unexpected and providential attack that her dog made upon Denny Redman he would very likely have murdered her after they had murdered me. I'm not saying I WILL take her to see his execution, all I'm saying is that I will offer her the CHOICE of going or not. If she CHOOSES to go I will take her - just her - and not anyone else. In spite of our best efforts the world thrust itself upon her and took away her innocence about violence and death. If she feels the need for this sort of closure then it is her right to have it IF she so chooses. Now this is the end of the matter. I'm going to go out there and bring her back in here and explain her choices to her and she will decide for herself - without interference." He let out his breath in a long, slow exhalation then turned and walked through the door.
In the dining room he found his daughter doing her schoolwork with the other children of the household. "Mel, may I speak with you a moment please?" he asked. The girl looked up, concerned about the grave expression on her father's face. "Yes sir" she said and rose from her chair to follow him.
In the bedroom she found her mother plainly upset but silent and began to worry even more. Observing the emotions playing across his daughter's face John quickly moved to assure her there was nothing of which to be alarmed. "It's OK honey. You're not in trouble and we're not going to tell you anything bad. I just want to ask you a question and I want you to give me your honest answer and that will be the end of the matter for now and forever. Do you understand?"
The girl nodded her head gravely. "Yes sir. I understand. At least I think I do."
Her father smiled. "Good enough. What I want to ask you is this. Denny Redman, the man you testified against at his trial last month, is going to be executed today in Gainesville. If YOU choose to do so I will take you with me to see him hang. It's YOUR choice and I want your honest answer. Neither your mother or I are going to tell you to stay or go. We want you to decide as you think best on this matter. Do you want to stay here or go with me."
The girl said nothing for a time but looked at her father, then her mother, then finally coming back to look at her father. "If it's all the same to you daddy, I don't think I want to see Mr. Redman be hanged."
Her father nodded and said, "Very well. It's your choice, you earned the right to make it. If you choose not to go that is the way it will be." He bent over and kissed his daughter on her forehead then said, "Go on back and finish your schoolwork. I'll see you this evening."
She looked at her mother again, said "Yes sir" then walked out of the room.
When the door closed Ann turned to her husband and said, "Well, I'm glad of that! She's been traumatized enough without her watching such a spectacle of death as these executions have become."
John let out a long sigh. "Darlin', she's made her decision and the matter is closed." He crossed the room and took her into his arms and kissed her. "Now I've got to be going. Carla's transfer should have cleared the bank by now and I want to get it out so I need to be moving. I'll be stopping by the salvage yard and some other errands on the way back so if I'm not back by six don't wait supper on me."
She crossed her arms sternly but her face lost some of its harshness. "I'd just as soon YOU didn't go either but I know better than try to dissuade you when you're resolved in your pigheaded stubbornness to go. Be careful, the weather service said we might get some freezing rain out of this front coming through this afternoon. Before you go, you need to sign the tax forms on the desk and get them into the mail postmarked TODAY so they won't be late."
John scowled, "I swear, nothing but nothing will ever hurt the godda… uh, the government so bad that they won't have their hands out to get theirs. They should owe US this year but do you think we're likely to see any of it they way they're blowing it out their butts and the shape the economy is in?"
His wife just gave him a philosophical smile and said nothing. She'd long ago become accustomed to her husband's rants about the government, taxes, and anything else he felt impeded his ability to provide for his family.
Seeing that his wife wasn't going to give him any satisfying reaction he relented, smiled, then said, "Yes dear. I sure hope it doesn't go to freezing again. The ground looks like it's just getting dry enough to plow." He put on his coat and picked up his hat then headed for the door.
Outside he detoured to go by the barn and check on the chickens in their holding pens. Their first two attempts at incubation had been very disappointing but after having Ann consult with one of the few remaining poultry specialists left at the university they'd diagnosed the problems with their techniques and had begun to achieve acceptable hatches. They now had a couple hundred birds - Plymouth Barred Rocks, Buff Orpingtons, Rhode Island and New Hampshire Reds, White Wyandottes, Australorps, and Pearl White Leghorns steadily growing large enough to turn out onto pasture as soon as the last of the snow and ice had passed. He'd just that morning taken the Leghorns out of the brooder so that it could be cleaned and readied for the goslings he expected to get from Eddy Morganstern soon and the turkey poults he expected to take out of the incubator in another week or so. He'd been carefully explaining the ins and outs of poultry breeding to the children so they could start a program of weeding out the less desirable stock from their future breeding flock and working in a number of biology lessons for their homeschooling efforts from it as well. He'd also promised birds to both Ed Strickland and Miguel Alvarez in return for loaning him several breeds of roosters he did not have to mate with the same breeds of hens he did have. So far the project was coming along quite satisfactorily.
Reassured the birds were secure and content he quickly looked over the milking stand and equipment. The girls did a good job of milking but occasionally grew a little slack in keeping their equipment clean which is a cardinal sin when using raw, unpasteurized milk. He checked behind them often enough to keep them on their toes. He also saw that he'd soon need to muck out the stalls again which made his back twinge. "I really need another pair of hands around here to share the heavy work." He muttered to himself. "Now that the Hatcher's have a place of their own I ought to talk to Mike and Stevie about hiring him out part-time."
Satisfied there was nothing needing his urgent attention he walked over to his truck, got in, fired it up and pulled out from under the shelter moving towards the gate. As he was closing it behind him after pulling the truck through he could see Jake, Andy and Bad in the pasture, basking in the sun. He'd been working with them for the last several months to try and improve their livestock-guardian traits but still wasn't sure if anything worthwhile was going to come of it. If it didn't he'd already talked to a man down to Williston about buying two Great Pyrenees pups from a litter due to whelp in another couple of weeks and given him deposits on them. Losing livestock to predators was much more important now than it ever had been before and he wasn't going to keep anymore non-working yard dogs. They either pulled their weight or they got fed to the pigs. Except for Jake, he'd paid his freight in full forevermore. He hoped he'd managed to communicate this to Andy and Bad, but if not their replacements would be along presently.
He looked up at the sky as he headed north towards Archer and sure enough the gray sky looked pregnant with precipitation. "Just rain, damnit, just rain. I've had enough snow and ice to last me the rest of my life." Another mile and the first drops began to spatter the windshield making him scowl as he turned on his wipers and lights. A few minutes later he pulled up in front of Miguel's store and the owner came out and got in the truck. "Buenos dias John!" he said. Looking out the window at the rainfall he continued, "Well, the weather seems to be appropriate for the occasion, no?"
John shook his head. "Maybe it'll keep the crowd a little more somber this time. When Archie Lauren took his fall I was a little appalled at the level of excitement."
Miguel shrugged. "I have read that when public executions were the norm that whole families used to watch and bring picnic lunches for the occasion. I'm glad to see that Melinda will not be there to see it."
"Heh" John gave a rueful grin. "Her mother and I had quite a battle over it this morning. I gave Mel the choice and she chose not to. About what I expected but I felt it important for her to choose for herself."
"Your daughter is wise for her years, my friend. I am glad she will not be going. Were I not so unfortunately involved I would not be attending myself but I feel a certain fatalistic compulsion to take this matter to its final end." The truck turned onto the Gainesville road and Miguel looked out across the field behind the bank, lost in his thoughts.
The two men shared a companionable silence for the ride into Gainesville until they passed the Albertson's grocery store where two dozen or more cars could be seen parked out front. "Looks their business is starting to pick up, at least there's more cars out front than I've seen in a while. They starting to affect you any?"
Miguel studied the store for a moment while they waited for their light to change. "No. Very little actually. It's ten miles from Archer to Gainesville and many cannot afford the gasoline to come into town to shop so they come to me. Besides, I sell many locally produced foods - such as the baked goods your girls make for me. These big chain stores have difficulty in doing that, being very dependent on centrally located distribution warehouses. In time, perhaps, that will change and they will become more competitive but then they would more closely resemble me than I would resemble them. Some foods we must all import from far away - coffee, sugar, tea, spices, and other such products but shipping is now very expensive. This greatly impacts the prices one must charge in order to make a profit. So long as fuel remains costly it will be cost competitive to produce more things nearby even if the climate isn't quite as conducive for doing so as it is somewhere else much further away."
John nodded his head. "You're right about the fuel at least. If I had to pay road fuel prices for my ag diesel I wouldn't be able to farm at all. This is going to cause a serious change in the way agriculture in America works if fuel stays expensive for a long while and it sure looks like it's going to with many of the Persian Gulf states cutting back on their output to keep prices high."
"This is true John, but were it not for their actions - short sighted in my eyes - many of the alternative fuel technologies now starting to blossom such as your methane digester would not be cost effective. Perhaps Sheik Saladin believes he is tormenting us but I think he is actually doing us a great favor. There will be pain, yes, as our economy adjusts to the new reality but we will surely learn to stand more strongly upon our own resources than his. The people must still eat, they want to stay warm, and have light to see by so they will spend their money on those things even if it means they cannot buy a new car as often as they'd like or see the latest Hollywood production as often as they'd prefer."
John stopped for another red light - with so little traffic these days why did they keep so many in use? - and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hell, I don't care if gas goes to a dollar, I mean ten cents a gallon. We're going to go right on using that gas digester regardless. As long as I can grow grass and corn and have stock to eat it I'll have the raw material to produce my own fuel. If I could produce my own fuel for vehicular use I'd do that as well. Unfortunately, no one's come up with a very efficient way to use methane for mobile use, molecular weight is too light. I'd REALLY like one of those diesel-electric hybrids they've been talking about in the news lately. They showed one last night in a NOVA documentary rigged up as a half-ton pickup truck.. They didn't mention any prices though but I imagine they'll be steep. Wouldn't surprise me if they went for $2,000 or more."
Miguel smiled. "Mark Holloway owns the Ford agency up to Alachua. We've shot doves together on his father's farm. I'll ask him what he hears from Detroit about these vehicles."
The light turned and they pulled through heading downtown. It still surprised him to see the tall gallows scaffold in front of the courthouse even though he'd already witnessed one hanging. In spite of the light, steady rain and occasionally gusty wind a crowd of about sixty people had gathered to witness the execution. Much like the execution of Archie Lauren that had come before about half of the crowd were black. There had actually been very little racial violence in Gainesville itself but this had not stopped rumors from running like wildfire through the black and white communities about what one group or another was plotting to do. The two men got out of the truck, put on their rain slickers, snugged down their hats and joined the crowd. A bailiff passing through the crowd recognized John and said "Good morning Deputy Horne" on his way into the courthouse. Around him he could hear muted whispering starting to spread as the fact of his identity began to circulate. Couldn't be helped so he ignored it.
After about ten minutes a slow drum began to play and the gathered spectators fell silent. John wondered again why the prison system felt the need for such martial sounding music but supposed it worked as well as anything to let the crowd know how to behave by cuing them on what was about to happen. A few seconds after the drum sounded the doors from the bottom of the courthouse opened and an assembly of corrections officers marched out, not all of them managing to stay in step, with the hooded executioner leading and the condemned man in the middle. John studied him closely. He looked now less like the murderous Klansman he'd been on the day of the shootout than he did a frightened and bewildered young man. His hair was cut very close and he could see a large, purple bruise on his right temple that had not been there when he'd last seen him on the day of his trial. The drum continued its funeral cadence as the assemblage crossed the distance from the doors to the gallows between a cordon of deputies keeping the assembled watchers at a distance. On top of the courthouse and the city offices facing it he could see Sheriff's department riflemen prominently poised to discourage any interference in the proceedings.
When the executioner reached the bottom of the steps the drum made a minute, but noticeable change to its cadence and they began to ascend the thirteen steps. John tried to recall the significance behind that number of steps on a gallows but it would not come to him. At the top the officers stood Redman on the short platform on the deck facing the noose hanging at just below head level. The guard sergeant read out the charges that he'd been convicted of, the multiple deaths of his Klan cohorts, and Melinda's kidnapping, being the most grievous of them, then he read out the sentence that had been passed upon him by the court. When he finished he asked the young man if he had any final words and with a barely perceptible shake of his head he indicated he did not. How different this one is John thought compared to Archie Lauren who had glared at the crowd and gave as his last words a poison-filled diatribe against the nation's ZOG controlled government, mud people, and ****** lovers in general until at last the sergeant had silenced him. The difference between the True Believer and a young man who had not yet completely sold his soul to fanaticism and now realizes too late the consequences of his actions.
The sergeant stepped back and a man in a clerical collar came forward with a bible in his hands. He and the young man bowed their heads and prayed, earnestness written across the face of the condemned. Finally, the prayer was finished and the holy man stepped back. The young man's face came up, resigned to his fate and clear eyed now. He looked over the crowd coming it seemed straight to John where they locked eyes for a moment until the executioner brought the black hood down over his head and carefully placed the noose, snugging it up to keep it from shifting. Lauren had done the same thing, finding and locking eyes with John out of a crowd of people numbering seemingly several hundred. He had refused a hood, shouting loudly that he wanted to look at his murderers as he died and so he had, staring at John the entire time until the rope lifted him off the platform after which he never saw anything in this world again. Perhaps we'll meet again someday John thought but at least you'll have gotten there before me.
The executioner stepped back now placing his hand on the ring pin holding up the carefully weighted sandbag and looked at the guard officer. Suddenly the drums rolled and the officer nodded his head and the executioner gave the ring a smart pull from its socket, releasing the sand bag into its long, long fall that would jerk Redman out of this world and into the next before it came to rest at the end of its rope. The sound of a thump could be heard when the bag hit its bottom and upon the scaffold the hooded figure turned slightly in the breeze, seemingly to look more fully upon John, its legs twitching. The crowd stood silently for a few moments looking upward then without speaking John and Miguel turned and began to walk back to the truck, stripping off their slickers when they reached it.
After they'd got in and cranked the motor, it's welcome warmth playing over them from the heater vents John said, "With luck and by the Grace of God that's the last one of those I'll ever feel the need to watch."
Miguel said nothing for a moment then replied, "My friend, I devoutly hope this to be true. Witnessing more than a very few such events as that I believe would be very corrosive to the soul."
Pulling out onto the main road they headed towards East Gainesville and the Recovery Corp salvage yards to find the materials they needed to build a better life for those who still retained it.
G
Glandor
Guest
Wow...thats all I've got to say... WOW!
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
May 1st, 2003 - Spring, Sprang, Sprung.
The earth was soft under his feet as John walked across the plowed field. Softly whistling the Shaker hymn "Simple Gifts" that his wife had introduced him to long ago he stopped occasionally to run his hand into the turned soil to gauge its warmth. It still smelled faintly of the manure he'd sprayed on it three days before. It had been an expensive trip up into the Florida Panhandle both in terms of fuel and trade goods to acquire the liquid manure sprayer a bankrupt hog farmer had advertised in the state market bulletin but he felt it had been worth it. The first couple of times they'd emptied the gas digester of its spent feedstock they'd had to dip the effluent out of barrels with buckets to apply it to the ground which made for a slow, tedious, stinking and nasty experience. Now he could simply pull the sprayer behind the tractor and put the entire load down in about a half-hour. The wheat that had been the first crop to be fertilized with the nutrient laden waste was now a beautiful emerald green and much denser in its stand than before the application.
He smiled every time he looked across the small waving green fields of his grain plantings and the plowed earth of plantings yet to come. In the pastures he could see the goats and the greatly expanded poultry flock happily experiencing the new Spring grass. Even Dandelion the cow would occasionally kick up her heels as she filled herself on the lush growth after months of hay. It had been a long winter that seemed to him filled with death and destruction. It felt good to see life returning and the eternal promise that every Spring held made plain once more. "Been enough killing, enough dying, enough crying to last me for my lifetime." He spoke aloud to himself. "Time to see some new life and living again."
After checking a half-dozen points across the field he decided the ground had finally warmed to the point that he could plant his corn. He didn't have enough of the yellow dent variety that he'd been conserving and improving to plant as much area as he wanted this year so he'd made another expensive deal with Bill at the Archer feed and seed store to order in enough of a different open pollinated dent corn by the name of Hickory King to make up the difference and that is what he'd be putting in first. A month later he'd put in his variety which he would one day call Horne's Dent when he'd finally attained the ear length and sturdiness of stalk he felt it was capable of achieving. By isolating the two plantings in time this way he hoped that he could avoid cross-pollination difficulties. Not that having these two particular varieties cross would be disastrous, they were both good, solid OP strains but it would mess up his development program for several years. He'd briefly considered planting a hybrid strain for the extra yield it would bring but had decided against it since it would not breed true the next season which meant he'd have to buy seed again and if it inadverdently crossed with his own variety it could take years to undo the damage.
He walked back across the field, this time heading towards the garden to check on the growth of the new tomato plants he'd put in the week before. They were an exception to his open-pollinated rule in that they were a disease resistant hybrid and so far showing remarkable growth. This pleased him greatly because they had several hundred more coming along in the greenhouse destined for the Archer market along with peppers, eggplants, and other vegetable seedlings he hoped would sell well. It would be good for the farm to begin to pay for itself at last, their outgo had far exceeded their income these last several months and the house coffers were becoming sadly depleted. After a long delay to build the tools they needed to produce the products they wanted to sell then waiting for the weather to warm enough for gardens to be put in the Horne farm was finally ready to take a place at the market to sell its wares. Ann and the children had been crafting the table presentation for days and he thought it looked pretty good. His niece Cindy had proved to be an able hand with a drawing pen and paint brush. They'd even had all of the kids dress in overalls and bright plaid shirts to make a photograph of them holding baskets of ripe, attractive produce (from the greenhouse, truth be told) with Neil in front wearing a wide brimmed straw hat holding their most photogenic Rhode Island Red hen under one arm and a wire basket full of colorful brown and white eggs in the other. John thought the hat looked ridiculous but the females had outvoted him. Silly hat or not he fancied that photograph and had an extra copy made to hang in the living room. He'd mailed a smaller copy of the photo to Carla who he was sure would be delighted. He planned to have another photo made of just him and Ann standing in front of the house pitchfork in hand, a la American Gothic, to hang beside it.
After looking over the tomatoes he picked up an empty bucket from a fence post and started picking yellow squash then moved on to cut a few heads of cabbage. A faint rumble of thunder rolled across the pasture. He looked up to see the weak cold front which had been predicted for the day making its approach. He judged he had enough time to finish his gathering before the advancing rain made it to him so he went back to his task. When his bucket had reached its capacity he left the garden and walked to the house entering through the back door to set the bucket down on the counter next to the sink. A drink of water from the tap and then back outside again, this time heading towards the orchard. The wind was beginning to kick up stray leaves when he arrived to scrutinize the trees that had not yet leafed out. Mostly they were his citrus and other sub-tropical fruits and he knew that eventually he'd just have to grasp the nettle and root them out. Most of them were only hardy to the mid twenties with a few able to survive as low as ten degrees for short periods of time but none had been intended to survive in areas reaching zero degrees. The minus four degrees they'd achieved in January had been just too much. He shrugged his shoulders in resignation and decided that after he'd gotten the corn in he'd get out here and get them out. He was going to miss the oranges but eventually he'd have new ones. Citrus was again going to be a rare and expensive treat for everyone, even for those that lived in Florida, for years to come. This winter had broken every cold weather record in the state and he hoped that he'd never live to see a such a season again.
The rain finally arrived and began to pelt itself across the land so John started moving towards the gate. On the way out he glanced over at the apple, pear, peach, and plum trees to see if he needed to thin the fruit - not yet but soon. As disastrous as the severe winter had been for his sub-tropicals it had been good for them. He'd never seen such blossoms on the apples before and even the three plum trees which had never before been more than middling indifferent in their performance had been covered in blossoms. The usual late spring freezes had taken most of the earliest blossoms but it looked like they'd still get plenty. The blueberries and blackberries had run riot as well and the buds on the grape vines were waxing fat.
A particularly hard gust of wind took the hat off of his head so he had to trot to catch it before it ran off into the pasture and the rainwater ran cold down the back of his neck. Retrieving his hat he went into the workshop and began to service the push seeders he used for corn planting. They were two old Planet Jr. units that he'd bolted into an impromptu frame so they'd stay a uniform distance apart as he walked the rows with them dropping seed. He figured he could plant the entire five acres in just a couple of days if he worked steadily and the weather cooperated - which was never a certain proposition. If he wanted to expand the planting even more next year he'd need to look into a tractor mounted seeder but for now he thought he could get by with what he had. Come harvest picking the corn ears would be a family affair the way it used to before mechanization rendered the practice obsolete. He was even considering having a husking bee and inviting the neighborhood to participate with a barbecue at the end. The thought made him laugh out loud and he remarked, "This is turning into Little House On the Prairie! Next thing you know Mel is going to start calling me Pa!" He grinned as he greased the axles and began to reassemble the machines.
He finished with the seeders and they made a measured tick-tick-tick sound as he pushed them across the floor. He put away his tools than began to putter about the shop sweeping the floor and generally neatening up. He really wanted to go into the house and warm up the shortwave but Heather was over today helping the kids bake a cake and make goodies for his and Ann's wedding anniversary celebration tonight. He wasn't supposed to know so he figured he'd best wait a bit before going in. Ann had observed last night when she was writing down upcoming events on the calendar in their bedroom that May 1st was now going to be the start of a chain of celebrations across the summer. Their wedding anniversary was May 1st, Mel's birthday was May 13th, Cindy's birthday May 30th, Neil's June 17th, Brittany's July 4th (a double celebration), Ann's July 21st which was going to make for a lot of celebrating this year. He had to admit he was looking forward to it though he'd have to keep up his traditional pretense of being uninterested.
The thought of birthdays reminded him so he casually looked out the door of the shop to see if any of the kids were about then closed it. He went into the lumber room in the back and moved a stack of old boards leaning against the wall to reveal a bright red mountain bike and matching bike trailer. It was Mel's birthday gift. The bike wasn't new but it looked new. He'd bought it at the Recovery Corp salvage yard, then stripped, rebuilt and painted it. The little trailer it pulled he'd built from an old baby carriage with big wheels and he figured if she kept her loads to sixty pounds or less it should hold up pretty well. At eleven she was outgrowing her old bike and was ready to step up to an adult sized machine, providing the seat was at its lowest adjustment. Her old set of wheels would be rebuilt and painted for Neil who was very close to being big enough to properly sit it. He had two more bikes similar to Mel's in the overhead rafters for Cindy and Brittany awaiting their turns on the workshop bench and was casting about for materials to build carts for their machines as well. "Beats hell out of giving them computer games and DVD players" he said to himself. The paint on Mel's bike seemed to have cured well so there was now just the matter of lubricating what needed it and it would be good to go. He carefully replaced the boards to conceal it and left the workshop.
He was walking towards the barn when a sheriff's cruiser pulled up to the gate so he went to the gate instead. Mike Daniel's got out and closed the door. "Morning John!" he said volubly.
"Good morning Deputy Daniels!" John said back. He noticed a tear in the left sleeve of Mike's uniform and asked, "You have to work for your wages last night?"
"Ha ha" Mike came back. "Yeah, we had some Recovery types in town last night drinking up their wages and getting into fights. Speaking of working, you want to pin your star back on? The Sheriff is looking for new deputies. I know you're kind of old and used up but you showed some talent for the business. He might consider your application favorably."
John laughed out loud and said, "Oh no! I am reeetired from the law! I'll leave it to you young bucks. I'm a farmer now and happy for it. Getting to be too old to be busting up bar fights. I'd rather be doing the drinking."
Mike snorted, "Wouldn't half surprise me to find you've got a still tucked away in their someplace and the girls working it!" He chuckled at the thought.
"Now Mike" John said with a grin "you know I'd never do anything illegal like that! At least not before you gave me the idea anyways!"
The both laughed then John asked, "What brings you by this fine morning anyways that you have me standing out here in the rain?"
"Kate told last night you wanted to talk with me so here I am!"
"Well, as a matter of fact I do want to talk with you. Let's go up on the porch and get out of the wet." Mike stepped through the gate and they walked up to the front porch. When they'd sat down John said, "I'd like to hire Stevie part-time to help me out with some of the heavy work around here. Wanted to speak with you first before I asked him."
Mike studied the hole in his sleeve which looked more like a cut than a tear then replied. "Sounds good to me. Lord knows we owe you anyway and it's not like he's got a ton of work to do at home. How often do you need him?"
Brittany stepped opened the front door and stuck her head out. "I thought I heard voices out here. Good morning Deputy Daniels. Uncle John, can I bring you two something to drink?"
"I think a couple of cups of coffee would be swell, Britt" John said and she closed the door to fetch them.
"Well, Mike," John continued, "I was figuring about two days a week to start would probably do the trick. Week days, we're about to start setting up at the Archer market now that the weather is warming and some of the new hens are coming into lay. Be mostly stuff like mucking out the stalls in the barn, splitting wood, helping me fell trees and any sort of heavy work that needs doing. All these girls in the house and just me to do the heavy work is starting to wear me out. I'll pay him sixty cents an hour in cash or in kind, however y'all want it and throw in meals while he's here."
The other man nodded his head. "Sounds very fair to me John. How about we deduct the price of the eggs y'all have been giving us from his wages and you can give him the rest in cash. It'll do him good to work for his pocket money. He's been getting kind of wild lately. I've been half afraid he'd take off on us and go to Texas to get involved in that Mexican mess. Those media idiots make it sound way too romantic to suit me. I'll discuss it with him tonight."
A glint came into John's eye and he said in mock seriousness, "Sounds good, but just you warn him not to be chasing any more of my girls or I'll have to break out my shotgun!"
Mike burst out laughing. "Oh, you DON'T have to worry about that! When it got out what he and Heather had been up to I had him half-convinced that you and Luke were about to come right over with shotguns and a preacher! I wore a switch out on his behind so I think he'll think twice and three times before sweet talking any more of YOUR girls."
Both men were still chuckling when Brittany came back with their coffee. "What's so funny?" she asked. This made the men laugh even more and John said, "Just something between men Brittany. Heather about got that cake finished so I can come into the house? I want to hear the news before it quits raining."
A look of surprise crossed her features and she said, "You weren't supposed to know about that!"
"Child," John said laughing along with Mike, "there's a great many things I wasn't supposed to know but sooner or later the truth will out!"
The earth was soft under his feet as John walked across the plowed field. Softly whistling the Shaker hymn "Simple Gifts" that his wife had introduced him to long ago he stopped occasionally to run his hand into the turned soil to gauge its warmth. It still smelled faintly of the manure he'd sprayed on it three days before. It had been an expensive trip up into the Florida Panhandle both in terms of fuel and trade goods to acquire the liquid manure sprayer a bankrupt hog farmer had advertised in the state market bulletin but he felt it had been worth it. The first couple of times they'd emptied the gas digester of its spent feedstock they'd had to dip the effluent out of barrels with buckets to apply it to the ground which made for a slow, tedious, stinking and nasty experience. Now he could simply pull the sprayer behind the tractor and put the entire load down in about a half-hour. The wheat that had been the first crop to be fertilized with the nutrient laden waste was now a beautiful emerald green and much denser in its stand than before the application.
He smiled every time he looked across the small waving green fields of his grain plantings and the plowed earth of plantings yet to come. In the pastures he could see the goats and the greatly expanded poultry flock happily experiencing the new Spring grass. Even Dandelion the cow would occasionally kick up her heels as she filled herself on the lush growth after months of hay. It had been a long winter that seemed to him filled with death and destruction. It felt good to see life returning and the eternal promise that every Spring held made plain once more. "Been enough killing, enough dying, enough crying to last me for my lifetime." He spoke aloud to himself. "Time to see some new life and living again."
After checking a half-dozen points across the field he decided the ground had finally warmed to the point that he could plant his corn. He didn't have enough of the yellow dent variety that he'd been conserving and improving to plant as much area as he wanted this year so he'd made another expensive deal with Bill at the Archer feed and seed store to order in enough of a different open pollinated dent corn by the name of Hickory King to make up the difference and that is what he'd be putting in first. A month later he'd put in his variety which he would one day call Horne's Dent when he'd finally attained the ear length and sturdiness of stalk he felt it was capable of achieving. By isolating the two plantings in time this way he hoped that he could avoid cross-pollination difficulties. Not that having these two particular varieties cross would be disastrous, they were both good, solid OP strains but it would mess up his development program for several years. He'd briefly considered planting a hybrid strain for the extra yield it would bring but had decided against it since it would not breed true the next season which meant he'd have to buy seed again and if it inadverdently crossed with his own variety it could take years to undo the damage.
He walked back across the field, this time heading towards the garden to check on the growth of the new tomato plants he'd put in the week before. They were an exception to his open-pollinated rule in that they were a disease resistant hybrid and so far showing remarkable growth. This pleased him greatly because they had several hundred more coming along in the greenhouse destined for the Archer market along with peppers, eggplants, and other vegetable seedlings he hoped would sell well. It would be good for the farm to begin to pay for itself at last, their outgo had far exceeded their income these last several months and the house coffers were becoming sadly depleted. After a long delay to build the tools they needed to produce the products they wanted to sell then waiting for the weather to warm enough for gardens to be put in the Horne farm was finally ready to take a place at the market to sell its wares. Ann and the children had been crafting the table presentation for days and he thought it looked pretty good. His niece Cindy had proved to be an able hand with a drawing pen and paint brush. They'd even had all of the kids dress in overalls and bright plaid shirts to make a photograph of them holding baskets of ripe, attractive produce (from the greenhouse, truth be told) with Neil in front wearing a wide brimmed straw hat holding their most photogenic Rhode Island Red hen under one arm and a wire basket full of colorful brown and white eggs in the other. John thought the hat looked ridiculous but the females had outvoted him. Silly hat or not he fancied that photograph and had an extra copy made to hang in the living room. He'd mailed a smaller copy of the photo to Carla who he was sure would be delighted. He planned to have another photo made of just him and Ann standing in front of the house pitchfork in hand, a la American Gothic, to hang beside it.
After looking over the tomatoes he picked up an empty bucket from a fence post and started picking yellow squash then moved on to cut a few heads of cabbage. A faint rumble of thunder rolled across the pasture. He looked up to see the weak cold front which had been predicted for the day making its approach. He judged he had enough time to finish his gathering before the advancing rain made it to him so he went back to his task. When his bucket had reached its capacity he left the garden and walked to the house entering through the back door to set the bucket down on the counter next to the sink. A drink of water from the tap and then back outside again, this time heading towards the orchard. The wind was beginning to kick up stray leaves when he arrived to scrutinize the trees that had not yet leafed out. Mostly they were his citrus and other sub-tropical fruits and he knew that eventually he'd just have to grasp the nettle and root them out. Most of them were only hardy to the mid twenties with a few able to survive as low as ten degrees for short periods of time but none had been intended to survive in areas reaching zero degrees. The minus four degrees they'd achieved in January had been just too much. He shrugged his shoulders in resignation and decided that after he'd gotten the corn in he'd get out here and get them out. He was going to miss the oranges but eventually he'd have new ones. Citrus was again going to be a rare and expensive treat for everyone, even for those that lived in Florida, for years to come. This winter had broken every cold weather record in the state and he hoped that he'd never live to see a such a season again.
The rain finally arrived and began to pelt itself across the land so John started moving towards the gate. On the way out he glanced over at the apple, pear, peach, and plum trees to see if he needed to thin the fruit - not yet but soon. As disastrous as the severe winter had been for his sub-tropicals it had been good for them. He'd never seen such blossoms on the apples before and even the three plum trees which had never before been more than middling indifferent in their performance had been covered in blossoms. The usual late spring freezes had taken most of the earliest blossoms but it looked like they'd still get plenty. The blueberries and blackberries had run riot as well and the buds on the grape vines were waxing fat.
A particularly hard gust of wind took the hat off of his head so he had to trot to catch it before it ran off into the pasture and the rainwater ran cold down the back of his neck. Retrieving his hat he went into the workshop and began to service the push seeders he used for corn planting. They were two old Planet Jr. units that he'd bolted into an impromptu frame so they'd stay a uniform distance apart as he walked the rows with them dropping seed. He figured he could plant the entire five acres in just a couple of days if he worked steadily and the weather cooperated - which was never a certain proposition. If he wanted to expand the planting even more next year he'd need to look into a tractor mounted seeder but for now he thought he could get by with what he had. Come harvest picking the corn ears would be a family affair the way it used to before mechanization rendered the practice obsolete. He was even considering having a husking bee and inviting the neighborhood to participate with a barbecue at the end. The thought made him laugh out loud and he remarked, "This is turning into Little House On the Prairie! Next thing you know Mel is going to start calling me Pa!" He grinned as he greased the axles and began to reassemble the machines.
He finished with the seeders and they made a measured tick-tick-tick sound as he pushed them across the floor. He put away his tools than began to putter about the shop sweeping the floor and generally neatening up. He really wanted to go into the house and warm up the shortwave but Heather was over today helping the kids bake a cake and make goodies for his and Ann's wedding anniversary celebration tonight. He wasn't supposed to know so he figured he'd best wait a bit before going in. Ann had observed last night when she was writing down upcoming events on the calendar in their bedroom that May 1st was now going to be the start of a chain of celebrations across the summer. Their wedding anniversary was May 1st, Mel's birthday was May 13th, Cindy's birthday May 30th, Neil's June 17th, Brittany's July 4th (a double celebration), Ann's July 21st which was going to make for a lot of celebrating this year. He had to admit he was looking forward to it though he'd have to keep up his traditional pretense of being uninterested.
The thought of birthdays reminded him so he casually looked out the door of the shop to see if any of the kids were about then closed it. He went into the lumber room in the back and moved a stack of old boards leaning against the wall to reveal a bright red mountain bike and matching bike trailer. It was Mel's birthday gift. The bike wasn't new but it looked new. He'd bought it at the Recovery Corp salvage yard, then stripped, rebuilt and painted it. The little trailer it pulled he'd built from an old baby carriage with big wheels and he figured if she kept her loads to sixty pounds or less it should hold up pretty well. At eleven she was outgrowing her old bike and was ready to step up to an adult sized machine, providing the seat was at its lowest adjustment. Her old set of wheels would be rebuilt and painted for Neil who was very close to being big enough to properly sit it. He had two more bikes similar to Mel's in the overhead rafters for Cindy and Brittany awaiting their turns on the workshop bench and was casting about for materials to build carts for their machines as well. "Beats hell out of giving them computer games and DVD players" he said to himself. The paint on Mel's bike seemed to have cured well so there was now just the matter of lubricating what needed it and it would be good to go. He carefully replaced the boards to conceal it and left the workshop.
He was walking towards the barn when a sheriff's cruiser pulled up to the gate so he went to the gate instead. Mike Daniel's got out and closed the door. "Morning John!" he said volubly.
"Good morning Deputy Daniels!" John said back. He noticed a tear in the left sleeve of Mike's uniform and asked, "You have to work for your wages last night?"
"Ha ha" Mike came back. "Yeah, we had some Recovery types in town last night drinking up their wages and getting into fights. Speaking of working, you want to pin your star back on? The Sheriff is looking for new deputies. I know you're kind of old and used up but you showed some talent for the business. He might consider your application favorably."
John laughed out loud and said, "Oh no! I am reeetired from the law! I'll leave it to you young bucks. I'm a farmer now and happy for it. Getting to be too old to be busting up bar fights. I'd rather be doing the drinking."
Mike snorted, "Wouldn't half surprise me to find you've got a still tucked away in their someplace and the girls working it!" He chuckled at the thought.
"Now Mike" John said with a grin "you know I'd never do anything illegal like that! At least not before you gave me the idea anyways!"
The both laughed then John asked, "What brings you by this fine morning anyways that you have me standing out here in the rain?"
"Kate told last night you wanted to talk with me so here I am!"
"Well, as a matter of fact I do want to talk with you. Let's go up on the porch and get out of the wet." Mike stepped through the gate and they walked up to the front porch. When they'd sat down John said, "I'd like to hire Stevie part-time to help me out with some of the heavy work around here. Wanted to speak with you first before I asked him."
Mike studied the hole in his sleeve which looked more like a cut than a tear then replied. "Sounds good to me. Lord knows we owe you anyway and it's not like he's got a ton of work to do at home. How often do you need him?"
Brittany stepped opened the front door and stuck her head out. "I thought I heard voices out here. Good morning Deputy Daniels. Uncle John, can I bring you two something to drink?"
"I think a couple of cups of coffee would be swell, Britt" John said and she closed the door to fetch them.
"Well, Mike," John continued, "I was figuring about two days a week to start would probably do the trick. Week days, we're about to start setting up at the Archer market now that the weather is warming and some of the new hens are coming into lay. Be mostly stuff like mucking out the stalls in the barn, splitting wood, helping me fell trees and any sort of heavy work that needs doing. All these girls in the house and just me to do the heavy work is starting to wear me out. I'll pay him sixty cents an hour in cash or in kind, however y'all want it and throw in meals while he's here."
The other man nodded his head. "Sounds very fair to me John. How about we deduct the price of the eggs y'all have been giving us from his wages and you can give him the rest in cash. It'll do him good to work for his pocket money. He's been getting kind of wild lately. I've been half afraid he'd take off on us and go to Texas to get involved in that Mexican mess. Those media idiots make it sound way too romantic to suit me. I'll discuss it with him tonight."
A glint came into John's eye and he said in mock seriousness, "Sounds good, but just you warn him not to be chasing any more of my girls or I'll have to break out my shotgun!"
Mike burst out laughing. "Oh, you DON'T have to worry about that! When it got out what he and Heather had been up to I had him half-convinced that you and Luke were about to come right over with shotguns and a preacher! I wore a switch out on his behind so I think he'll think twice and three times before sweet talking any more of YOUR girls."
Both men were still chuckling when Brittany came back with their coffee. "What's so funny?" she asked. This made the men laugh even more and John said, "Just something between men Brittany. Heather about got that cake finished so I can come into the house? I want to hear the news before it quits raining."
A look of surprise crossed her features and she said, "You weren't supposed to know about that!"
"Child," John said laughing along with Mike, "there's a great many things I wasn't supposed to know but sooner or later the truth will out!"
Capt Teach
Veteran Member
bttt
G
Glandor
Guest
MORE MORE MORE
bttt for the children of the nightGREYGHOSTt
Contributing Member
found this in the middle of page 3 ; 4 shame 4 shame 
G
Glandor
Guest
Oh the withdrawl is horrible!!
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
June 7, 2003 - Summertime
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Trying telling it all to my wife! Here's your story post! Just broke 120,000 words.
-- -- -- --
John went down the hallway knocking on doors and saying "Time to get up! Last one up gets no hot water!" which was the truth. Their old water heater was beginning to show its age from ten months of higher than normal usage and was no longer responding as fast as it once did, even with half of the family bathing at night. At the end of the hall he went into his room and handed his wife her coffee. She stretched and yawned and looked blearily at him over the rim of her cup as she took a sip. "Is it really necessary to be up at 4:30 on a weekend John?" she asked grumpily.
Her husband grinned and poked her in the ribs causing her to squirm and nearly spill her coffee. "This is a working farm, woman! You get to sleep late on Sundays - at least till dawn anyways. We've got all the usual morning chores to get through and the truck loaded and be on the road in time to set up and ready to go for the 7:30 market open. Most of the business gets done in the first two hours so if you're late you're out of luck. Better hop to it, the kids can't get their baths until you've had yours."
Ann got up, taking another sip of her coffee and stared moving towards the bathroom muttering "grump, grump, grump" as she went. In the kitchen Heather was putting the water on for the grits and beginning to mix the biscuits. She was visiting them for a week after having a falling out with her mother over her school and social life. For all of her complaining about raising livestock John thought she missed the farm atmosphere and the large family feeling. With the household grudgingly forcing itself into motion he slipped on his hat and went out the kitchen door towards the greenhouse where the truck was backed up and ready to load. It was past the traditional time for starting gardens in North Florida but since the Impact there had been a gardening boom like had not been seen since at least the Second World War with its Victory Gardens. As a result they had not been able to keep up with the demand for vegetable bedding plants, much to their delight since they made a fair profit from the trade. The usual hot Florida June weather had also not materialized, the highs were still only reaching the low eighties, which was making for very productive gardens which he felt might account for part of the new found interesting in growing your own food. That and a difficult winter of getting anything to eat that one could afford.
In the greenhouse he began slipping the trays of starts into the racks in the back of the truck. He worked steadily and soon had all of the seedlings loaded. He pulled the truck around to the barn and hooked up the stock trailer that would carry the eggs and produce then pulled around in front of the workshop where the goods were waiting to be loaded. All of their new chickens were laying now, in addition to their older birds, so they now gathered, washed, and packed two hundred eggs a day. They sold them all too, every weekend at the market except for twenty five dozen he sold to Miguel. Those were wholesale so they made less profit on them but John felt it prudent to have more than one outlet for their goods so wrote off the lost profit as insurance. He'd found a good source for ordering new egg cartons and had them custom printed with a Horn Farm label that Cindy had designed. So far they were selling very well and John was beginning to consider expanding into one of the farmer's markets in Gainesville where they'd reach a more affluent clientele.
First into the trailer went four crates of live roosters - now all prime eating size. He was somewhat surprised by the number of live birds they sold but it seems that Gainesville's large ethnic population not only had no problem with butchering their own birds, many preferred to. This was fine by him because he'd never cared for plucking chickens and did so only as a necessity of disposing of spent hens and surplus cockerels. He laid a precut piece of plywood down on top of the cages then loaded cases of eggs, another layer of plywood and in went the vegetables. They didn't sell as much produce as many others did, mostly just the surplus from what they didn't eats or preserve themselves. Next year he figured to perhaps expand that area once he'd had a chance to study it a while. He was just finishing with the last of the produce when he saw Melinda and Cindy come out of the house heading for the barn - one to milk Dandelion, the other to feed the rest of the stock.
After discussing the matter with Ann they had decided to allow the kids to set their own schedules for who milked, who fed, and when it would be done with the provisio that it had to be done regularly, the same time every day and without fail - lapses would be sternly corrected by mass denial of privileges which served to motivate everyone to make sure no one individual was slacking off. So far it was working well. Since the kids set the schedules up themselves they could not complain about having to meet them and it allowed them to negotiate amongst themselves when one needed to deviate from what had already been agreed upon. The only impact that John had made on this was that morning chores had to be done before the truck left on market days, thus the girls coming out for a five thirty a.m. milking and feeding rather than the seven o'clock operation that they'd normally perform.
With their sale goods loaded he then set the boxes of table coverings and display materials on top so they would come out first. He found much of their display to be rather kitschy in a country sort of way, even outright corny, but he had to admit that it was effective in attracting potential customers to their tables. Ann, Lisa, and the girls had spent much time in their first several working market days studying whose tables were drawing customers and deducing why. They'd even gone and visited the farmer's markets in Gainesville to research there as well. Cornball sold produce so cornball is what they presented. They'd even developed what Ann had come to call their 'farming uniforms' of overalls, straw hats, red bandanas hanging out of their rear pockets and plaid shirts. John found the whole thing to be somewhat embarrassing but it drew customers. It was a strange old world sometimes.
With everything loaded and ready to go he went back into the house. Heather, Brittany and Neil were just setting food on the table. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and as he was sitting to the table Cindy and Mel came in with the morning's milk which they set in the refrigerator to separate. John gave the grace and the family set into their meal. As he was buttering a biscuit Ann said, "There was a story on the NPR news a few minutes ago that J.P. Morgan announced yesterday after the market closed they were going into bankruptcy. The market analyst they were interviewing said he thought there was a strong chance that Citibank and Bank America would go under as well. He also said he thought the FDIC might not be able to meet its obligations concerning insured accounts unless Congress authorizes more funds. Do you think we should do something about this?"
John took a bite of his biscuit and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before replying. "Darlin', there's just not much we can do about it. We've known for a couple of months there was going to be a slaughter in the financial community. Looks to me like they've finally hit the point they can't conceal it or stave it off any longer. We have to deal with banks because that's what the state insists on paying its employees and the military for theirs. If the banks go 'poof' then we'll have just to get by as best we can. We're already doing half our trade in barter as it is. If we have to I guess we'll barter the other half as well. It's a clumsy way to do business but it beats not doing business at all. The government doesn't have any real choice in the matter if they don't want the entire economy to collapse. Congress will simply have to authorize the funds to cover those insured bank accounts which means they'll tell the Treasury to roll the presses to pay for it and raise taxes at the same time. Leastwise they'll try to raise taxes anyways. The national mood being what it is they may soon find that to be too dangerous a solution for any politician to try, but they'll roll those presses as sure as I'm sitting here. That means the national debt will balloon even more than it already has and we're going to see inflation shooting up again. About all we can do is pull any money we have out of the banks as fast as we can and keep as much of our assets in tangible goods as possible. No way to entirely get out of dealing with cash money. The government wants its taxes in cash, the power company, the phone company and so on. Most everyone else we can probably work out some sort of trade deal. Eventually, the rest of the financial infrastructure that was damaged by the Impact is going to crash. When the dust settles the government will be able to start building a sound currency again that we can rely on not to inflate into worthlessness before you can get into town to spend it. Until then we just hunker down and wait it out like everyone else is."
Talk of economic disaster at the breakfast table was giving John heartburn so he resolved to head the conversation into a different direction. He asked, "What lessons are you kids working on today for your school work?" Neil spoke before the rest and said, "I'm working on multiplication and long division. Aunt Ann is teaching me how to figure prices, discounts, making change, and order totals. I like this a lot better than working problems in a book. This is for real."
John nodded then looked at Cindy, Brittany and Melinda. "What are you three doing?"
Cindy spoke up and said, "Mostly economics, Uncle John. We're also working up business plans for potential new businesses. Aunt Ann says if we come up with anything that looks really promising we might actually try it. We're also going to be working on our Spanish with Mrs. Alvarez. She's starting a group of homeschool kids like us that she'll work with on Saturday market days in conversational Spanish."
"And what will you be doing at the market today, John?" his wife asked, grinning at him, "Besides spending all morning talking with your cronies?"
He affected not to notice her tone and replied, "Why doing business of course. It's important to keep up with business in one's community. The kids do most of the work at the market, my toiling is mostly done here at home."
By six thirty they had worked their way through their breakfast and hurriedly cleaned up. Ann and Heather would be staying home. Heather wanted to take Latin in the Fall and had asked Ann to tutor her in the subject. The rest loaded up into the truck and pulled out, the sun just beginning to peak over the eastern horizon. Ready to cope with whatever the day presented.
-- -- -- --
"Hey John! Morning girls!" the vendor at the table next to the Hornes called out. "Couldn't ask for a better morning could you? Cool, clear, and dry. Folks out there just waiting to come in here and give us their money! If I had a load of fresh faced good looking kids like you do I'd be doing business hand over fist!"
John chuckled. Butch Two Crows was one of the talkingest men he'd ever met but he did a good business. In just about everything it seemed since his stock in trade ranged from used clothing, tools, and furniture, eggs from his hens, working on old computers, to jackleg horse doctoring. Ed Strickland had once remarked that Butch would sell you your hat if you left it laying on his table. John just couldn't bring himself to imitate Butch's style he did have to admit it was effective. He kept the girls amused with what seemed like a perpetual stream of corny jokes and Neil seemed to admire him without reservation.
"Well, after the news last night and this morning I'm not sure how much of a mood to do business folks will be in Butch" John said as he and the kids began to set up the table presentation. "Sounds like what's left of the financial structure in the country is collapsing."
"Au contraire, oh Hen King" Butch came back, "The Glorious Pipples will be all too eager to do business this day. At least those who are holding cash will be. They can already feel it losing value and they'll want to trade it as fast as they can for something tangible they can hold in their hands - such as eggs or clothing. I predict we'll have a busy morning. I would not presume to tell you how to do business but for my part I will be raising my cash prices five percent to compensate. Tomorrow I may raise them yet again."
With a nod John digested what Butch had told them. He respected his opinion on the way the market operated. "Sounds like a good idea Butch. If sales are slow we can always lower prices again. Neil, can you figure out a five percent increase in our prices?"
"Yes Uncle John, if you'll check my answers. Aunt Ann has been teaching me how. I can figure the prices and Cindy can make the signs. Her writing is better than mine." The boy looked excited at the prospect of playing an important role in the way his family supported itself. At his age, I would have too John thought to himself. "OK, you start your figuring and I'll backstop you. Then Cindy can set to making the new signs. Britt, Mel, you two finish getting the table up while I start unloading the goods."
The family fell to getting ready to do business and the market hum began to steadily increase in anticipation of another day of business. They'd be setting up again on Sunday, in the afternoon after church. The Sunday market was slower but often times better deals could be worked, particularly at the end of the day if someone was faced with going home for the week with too little profit. By the time he'd unloaded the last of their goods Neil came running up with a pad of paper that had the prices for their stock on it and besides each one was the newly increased price. Scanning down the list he checked each figure in his head, corrected just two and handed them back to the boy with instructions to give them to Cindy. He quickly did so and returned to help him moved their stock up to the tables.
Cindy was just setting out the last of the new signs when the big iron fire bell rang out its announcement of the market opening and the gates swung wide. A steady stream of people came in and true to Butch's predictions the customers dealing in dollars were eager to buy and John soon found himself limiting egg sales to three dozen per customer so they wouldn't run out before his regular customers had their opportunity. He was new to business in this way but he knew that one treated regular customers with care if you wanted to stay in business.
Their produce and bedding plants moved out quickly as well and Neil was forced to call for help in keeping up with the figuring necessary to total orders so John put Brittany on to assist him. She was still a bit slow in math and he felt she could use the practice. John had just come up to the front with a couple of more racks of plants and was talking to Butch when the Indian nodded towards the crowd and said "here comes trouble."
Trying not to look too obvious John scanned the crowd but failed to find the source of Butch's concern. "Who are you talking about?" he asked.
"That tall fella there, brown hair, blue polo shirt, blue jeans, and docksiders." Butch explained, "Don't know what flavor he is but he's government of some sort and he's way too attentive. Been watching my table pretty close these last few minutes. Bet you a cup of coffee he comes over here pretty soon."
John took a chair at the table and under the pretext of examining Neil and Brittany's figuring kept tabs on the man in the polo shirt. Sure enough, he did seem to be paying particular attention to the Two Crows Trading Post table so he was not surprised when the man walked up a minute later. "Morning." Butch said, "What can I do for you today?"
The man smiled and put out his hand which John shook. "Good morning. Are you Mr. Two Crows?"
"I am he" he responded, his smile fading slightly.
"I'm Mark Hill, State Revenue Department. I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?"
His face fell into a deadpan expression as Butch replied, "Do I have any choice?"
Still smiling the tax agent said, "Now Mr. Two Crows, let's not start off on the wrong foot. I'm just here to bring you up to date on your responsibility to the state."
"My responsibility to the state" the Indian said in a reflective tone "Now what responsibility would that be?"
"I understand you're fairly new to the market aren't you Mr. Two Crows?" the agent explained "It's not uncommon for businesspeople in venues such as these to be unaware that retail sales have tax obligations which are owed to the state. It's how the state stays in business and provides you with the roads you travel to get to the market and your customers as well, in addition to supplying law enforcement to protect you from those who would steal from you."
At that last John snorted and interjected, "I haven't noticed much help from the STATE when it comes to law enforcement ever since the Impact. In fact, until recently I WAS THE LAW in my area, and a number of my fellow community members along with me. Sure didn't see much in the way of road maintenance either. We had ice and snow on the roads for months without anyone ever coming to clear it off! The STATE, in fact, has been mighty shy around these parts for quite a spell. Except for you that is, you seem to have made it here alright to put your hand out for a share of the earnings that my family worked hard to collect."
"I'm sorry," the agent said, "I didn't catch your name, Mr.?"
"That's because I haven't given it" the former lawman retorted, "It's Horne, John Horne."
"Very good. Now Mr. Horne" the agent attempted to explain "be reasonable. You know as well as I do that this has been an unprecedented disaster. The state couldn't begin to cope with the ice problems on the road with the equipment we had from before the Impact when we so seldom ever received ice before that. It takes time and money to gear up to handle problems like that."
"Yeah, you guys certainly take your time doing anything once you've taken our money!" Butch Two Crows interjected. "Supposing I agreed to pay your taxes, what am I to do about the fact that half or more of the business done here at the market is barter? And it's only going to increase because the High and Mighty are trying to bail their banks out by throwing our money overboard! You government types want to serve the public, you get us a stable dollar so we can do business in dollars and you might get a better reception in these parts!"
"Uh, yes. Mr. Two Crows, well, you see the STATE can't do much about the stability of the dollar I'm afraid. That's the Federal government's responsibility. But the State government still has to function and to do that we have to be able to collect the lawful taxes on commerce. I can understand the problems you all are having with the currency but it's outside of anything the State can possibly affect. I can appreciate that much of your business if of necessity in the form of barter and the state takes no position on that. All you have to do is to calculate the dollar value of that portion of your business and pay your sales tax obligation on it."
"Well ain't that just fine!" Butch snorted. " 'The State takes no position on barter, just pay us your taxes on it in dollars!' Half or more of my customers don't have any cash to do business with but we're supposed to pay you your percentage on the whole of our business from what cash we do take in! How are we supposed to stay in business like that?!"
The agent began once again to explain the situation to the recalcitrant traders when he realized that all conversation for many tables around had come to a stop with traders and customers alike intently attentive to their exchange. Many hard and stony gazes were being laid upon him and he began to feel their weight.
Another trader dealing in building materials spoke out. "Maybe if the government would show itself to be of some USE around here you'd got people more willing to consider paying your taxes. Far as I can tell the State ain't done diddely squat for anyone here since before that damned rock hit Bermuda! What's Tallahassee done for us since the asteroid came that we should pay it's taxes?"
A low, angry murmur began to arise from the assembled crowd of shoppers and traders. "I can't clothe my family now! If I have to pay government taxes on top of the way prices are now we'll be wearing rags!"
"Yeah!" Damn right!" "Goddamned government's got nerve to come here with its hand out." And other voices began to make themselves heard.
With the crowd growing ugly the agent said in a loud, but calm voice "I can see that I haven't done a good job of making my case. I'll come back next week when I'll be better prepared."
"You do that." Butch said.
The agent turned and began to pass through the crowd, not looking to either side and soon passed through the markets gates.
John turned to Butch and said, "And he will too. Probably at the head of a column of tax agents or state troopers. The State isn't going to take open rebellion like that lying down."
Butch grinned and said, "Yeah, don't you know it. But we got us a week didn't we? Who knows! Maybe by then the dollar will have collapsed and their won't be any money for them to collect taxes in!"
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Trying telling it all to my wife!
Here's your story post! Just broke 120,000 words.-- -- -- --
John went down the hallway knocking on doors and saying "Time to get up! Last one up gets no hot water!" which was the truth. Their old water heater was beginning to show its age from ten months of higher than normal usage and was no longer responding as fast as it once did, even with half of the family bathing at night. At the end of the hall he went into his room and handed his wife her coffee. She stretched and yawned and looked blearily at him over the rim of her cup as she took a sip. "Is it really necessary to be up at 4:30 on a weekend John?" she asked grumpily.
Her husband grinned and poked her in the ribs causing her to squirm and nearly spill her coffee. "This is a working farm, woman! You get to sleep late on Sundays - at least till dawn anyways. We've got all the usual morning chores to get through and the truck loaded and be on the road in time to set up and ready to go for the 7:30 market open. Most of the business gets done in the first two hours so if you're late you're out of luck. Better hop to it, the kids can't get their baths until you've had yours."
Ann got up, taking another sip of her coffee and stared moving towards the bathroom muttering "grump, grump, grump" as she went. In the kitchen Heather was putting the water on for the grits and beginning to mix the biscuits. She was visiting them for a week after having a falling out with her mother over her school and social life. For all of her complaining about raising livestock John thought she missed the farm atmosphere and the large family feeling. With the household grudgingly forcing itself into motion he slipped on his hat and went out the kitchen door towards the greenhouse where the truck was backed up and ready to load. It was past the traditional time for starting gardens in North Florida but since the Impact there had been a gardening boom like had not been seen since at least the Second World War with its Victory Gardens. As a result they had not been able to keep up with the demand for vegetable bedding plants, much to their delight since they made a fair profit from the trade. The usual hot Florida June weather had also not materialized, the highs were still only reaching the low eighties, which was making for very productive gardens which he felt might account for part of the new found interesting in growing your own food. That and a difficult winter of getting anything to eat that one could afford.
In the greenhouse he began slipping the trays of starts into the racks in the back of the truck. He worked steadily and soon had all of the seedlings loaded. He pulled the truck around to the barn and hooked up the stock trailer that would carry the eggs and produce then pulled around in front of the workshop where the goods were waiting to be loaded. All of their new chickens were laying now, in addition to their older birds, so they now gathered, washed, and packed two hundred eggs a day. They sold them all too, every weekend at the market except for twenty five dozen he sold to Miguel. Those were wholesale so they made less profit on them but John felt it prudent to have more than one outlet for their goods so wrote off the lost profit as insurance. He'd found a good source for ordering new egg cartons and had them custom printed with a Horn Farm label that Cindy had designed. So far they were selling very well and John was beginning to consider expanding into one of the farmer's markets in Gainesville where they'd reach a more affluent clientele.
First into the trailer went four crates of live roosters - now all prime eating size. He was somewhat surprised by the number of live birds they sold but it seems that Gainesville's large ethnic population not only had no problem with butchering their own birds, many preferred to. This was fine by him because he'd never cared for plucking chickens and did so only as a necessity of disposing of spent hens and surplus cockerels. He laid a precut piece of plywood down on top of the cages then loaded cases of eggs, another layer of plywood and in went the vegetables. They didn't sell as much produce as many others did, mostly just the surplus from what they didn't eats or preserve themselves. Next year he figured to perhaps expand that area once he'd had a chance to study it a while. He was just finishing with the last of the produce when he saw Melinda and Cindy come out of the house heading for the barn - one to milk Dandelion, the other to feed the rest of the stock.
After discussing the matter with Ann they had decided to allow the kids to set their own schedules for who milked, who fed, and when it would be done with the provisio that it had to be done regularly, the same time every day and without fail - lapses would be sternly corrected by mass denial of privileges which served to motivate everyone to make sure no one individual was slacking off. So far it was working well. Since the kids set the schedules up themselves they could not complain about having to meet them and it allowed them to negotiate amongst themselves when one needed to deviate from what had already been agreed upon. The only impact that John had made on this was that morning chores had to be done before the truck left on market days, thus the girls coming out for a five thirty a.m. milking and feeding rather than the seven o'clock operation that they'd normally perform.
With their sale goods loaded he then set the boxes of table coverings and display materials on top so they would come out first. He found much of their display to be rather kitschy in a country sort of way, even outright corny, but he had to admit that it was effective in attracting potential customers to their tables. Ann, Lisa, and the girls had spent much time in their first several working market days studying whose tables were drawing customers and deducing why. They'd even gone and visited the farmer's markets in Gainesville to research there as well. Cornball sold produce so cornball is what they presented. They'd even developed what Ann had come to call their 'farming uniforms' of overalls, straw hats, red bandanas hanging out of their rear pockets and plaid shirts. John found the whole thing to be somewhat embarrassing but it drew customers. It was a strange old world sometimes.
With everything loaded and ready to go he went back into the house. Heather, Brittany and Neil were just setting food on the table. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and as he was sitting to the table Cindy and Mel came in with the morning's milk which they set in the refrigerator to separate. John gave the grace and the family set into their meal. As he was buttering a biscuit Ann said, "There was a story on the NPR news a few minutes ago that J.P. Morgan announced yesterday after the market closed they were going into bankruptcy. The market analyst they were interviewing said he thought there was a strong chance that Citibank and Bank America would go under as well. He also said he thought the FDIC might not be able to meet its obligations concerning insured accounts unless Congress authorizes more funds. Do you think we should do something about this?"
John took a bite of his biscuit and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before replying. "Darlin', there's just not much we can do about it. We've known for a couple of months there was going to be a slaughter in the financial community. Looks to me like they've finally hit the point they can't conceal it or stave it off any longer. We have to deal with banks because that's what the state insists on paying its employees and the military for theirs. If the banks go 'poof' then we'll have just to get by as best we can. We're already doing half our trade in barter as it is. If we have to I guess we'll barter the other half as well. It's a clumsy way to do business but it beats not doing business at all. The government doesn't have any real choice in the matter if they don't want the entire economy to collapse. Congress will simply have to authorize the funds to cover those insured bank accounts which means they'll tell the Treasury to roll the presses to pay for it and raise taxes at the same time. Leastwise they'll try to raise taxes anyways. The national mood being what it is they may soon find that to be too dangerous a solution for any politician to try, but they'll roll those presses as sure as I'm sitting here. That means the national debt will balloon even more than it already has and we're going to see inflation shooting up again. About all we can do is pull any money we have out of the banks as fast as we can and keep as much of our assets in tangible goods as possible. No way to entirely get out of dealing with cash money. The government wants its taxes in cash, the power company, the phone company and so on. Most everyone else we can probably work out some sort of trade deal. Eventually, the rest of the financial infrastructure that was damaged by the Impact is going to crash. When the dust settles the government will be able to start building a sound currency again that we can rely on not to inflate into worthlessness before you can get into town to spend it. Until then we just hunker down and wait it out like everyone else is."
Talk of economic disaster at the breakfast table was giving John heartburn so he resolved to head the conversation into a different direction. He asked, "What lessons are you kids working on today for your school work?" Neil spoke before the rest and said, "I'm working on multiplication and long division. Aunt Ann is teaching me how to figure prices, discounts, making change, and order totals. I like this a lot better than working problems in a book. This is for real."
John nodded then looked at Cindy, Brittany and Melinda. "What are you three doing?"
Cindy spoke up and said, "Mostly economics, Uncle John. We're also working up business plans for potential new businesses. Aunt Ann says if we come up with anything that looks really promising we might actually try it. We're also going to be working on our Spanish with Mrs. Alvarez. She's starting a group of homeschool kids like us that she'll work with on Saturday market days in conversational Spanish."
"And what will you be doing at the market today, John?" his wife asked, grinning at him, "Besides spending all morning talking with your cronies?"
He affected not to notice her tone and replied, "Why doing business of course. It's important to keep up with business in one's community. The kids do most of the work at the market, my toiling is mostly done here at home."
By six thirty they had worked their way through their breakfast and hurriedly cleaned up. Ann and Heather would be staying home. Heather wanted to take Latin in the Fall and had asked Ann to tutor her in the subject. The rest loaded up into the truck and pulled out, the sun just beginning to peak over the eastern horizon. Ready to cope with whatever the day presented.
-- -- -- --
"Hey John! Morning girls!" the vendor at the table next to the Hornes called out. "Couldn't ask for a better morning could you? Cool, clear, and dry. Folks out there just waiting to come in here and give us their money! If I had a load of fresh faced good looking kids like you do I'd be doing business hand over fist!"
John chuckled. Butch Two Crows was one of the talkingest men he'd ever met but he did a good business. In just about everything it seemed since his stock in trade ranged from used clothing, tools, and furniture, eggs from his hens, working on old computers, to jackleg horse doctoring. Ed Strickland had once remarked that Butch would sell you your hat if you left it laying on his table. John just couldn't bring himself to imitate Butch's style he did have to admit it was effective. He kept the girls amused with what seemed like a perpetual stream of corny jokes and Neil seemed to admire him without reservation.
"Well, after the news last night and this morning I'm not sure how much of a mood to do business folks will be in Butch" John said as he and the kids began to set up the table presentation. "Sounds like what's left of the financial structure in the country is collapsing."
"Au contraire, oh Hen King" Butch came back, "The Glorious Pipples will be all too eager to do business this day. At least those who are holding cash will be. They can already feel it losing value and they'll want to trade it as fast as they can for something tangible they can hold in their hands - such as eggs or clothing. I predict we'll have a busy morning. I would not presume to tell you how to do business but for my part I will be raising my cash prices five percent to compensate. Tomorrow I may raise them yet again."
With a nod John digested what Butch had told them. He respected his opinion on the way the market operated. "Sounds like a good idea Butch. If sales are slow we can always lower prices again. Neil, can you figure out a five percent increase in our prices?"
"Yes Uncle John, if you'll check my answers. Aunt Ann has been teaching me how. I can figure the prices and Cindy can make the signs. Her writing is better than mine." The boy looked excited at the prospect of playing an important role in the way his family supported itself. At his age, I would have too John thought to himself. "OK, you start your figuring and I'll backstop you. Then Cindy can set to making the new signs. Britt, Mel, you two finish getting the table up while I start unloading the goods."
The family fell to getting ready to do business and the market hum began to steadily increase in anticipation of another day of business. They'd be setting up again on Sunday, in the afternoon after church. The Sunday market was slower but often times better deals could be worked, particularly at the end of the day if someone was faced with going home for the week with too little profit. By the time he'd unloaded the last of their goods Neil came running up with a pad of paper that had the prices for their stock on it and besides each one was the newly increased price. Scanning down the list he checked each figure in his head, corrected just two and handed them back to the boy with instructions to give them to Cindy. He quickly did so and returned to help him moved their stock up to the tables.
Cindy was just setting out the last of the new signs when the big iron fire bell rang out its announcement of the market opening and the gates swung wide. A steady stream of people came in and true to Butch's predictions the customers dealing in dollars were eager to buy and John soon found himself limiting egg sales to three dozen per customer so they wouldn't run out before his regular customers had their opportunity. He was new to business in this way but he knew that one treated regular customers with care if you wanted to stay in business.
Their produce and bedding plants moved out quickly as well and Neil was forced to call for help in keeping up with the figuring necessary to total orders so John put Brittany on to assist him. She was still a bit slow in math and he felt she could use the practice. John had just come up to the front with a couple of more racks of plants and was talking to Butch when the Indian nodded towards the crowd and said "here comes trouble."
Trying not to look too obvious John scanned the crowd but failed to find the source of Butch's concern. "Who are you talking about?" he asked.
"That tall fella there, brown hair, blue polo shirt, blue jeans, and docksiders." Butch explained, "Don't know what flavor he is but he's government of some sort and he's way too attentive. Been watching my table pretty close these last few minutes. Bet you a cup of coffee he comes over here pretty soon."
John took a chair at the table and under the pretext of examining Neil and Brittany's figuring kept tabs on the man in the polo shirt. Sure enough, he did seem to be paying particular attention to the Two Crows Trading Post table so he was not surprised when the man walked up a minute later. "Morning." Butch said, "What can I do for you today?"
The man smiled and put out his hand which John shook. "Good morning. Are you Mr. Two Crows?"
"I am he" he responded, his smile fading slightly.
"I'm Mark Hill, State Revenue Department. I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?"
His face fell into a deadpan expression as Butch replied, "Do I have any choice?"
Still smiling the tax agent said, "Now Mr. Two Crows, let's not start off on the wrong foot. I'm just here to bring you up to date on your responsibility to the state."
"My responsibility to the state" the Indian said in a reflective tone "Now what responsibility would that be?"
"I understand you're fairly new to the market aren't you Mr. Two Crows?" the agent explained "It's not uncommon for businesspeople in venues such as these to be unaware that retail sales have tax obligations which are owed to the state. It's how the state stays in business and provides you with the roads you travel to get to the market and your customers as well, in addition to supplying law enforcement to protect you from those who would steal from you."
At that last John snorted and interjected, "I haven't noticed much help from the STATE when it comes to law enforcement ever since the Impact. In fact, until recently I WAS THE LAW in my area, and a number of my fellow community members along with me. Sure didn't see much in the way of road maintenance either. We had ice and snow on the roads for months without anyone ever coming to clear it off! The STATE, in fact, has been mighty shy around these parts for quite a spell. Except for you that is, you seem to have made it here alright to put your hand out for a share of the earnings that my family worked hard to collect."
"I'm sorry," the agent said, "I didn't catch your name, Mr.?"
"That's because I haven't given it" the former lawman retorted, "It's Horne, John Horne."
"Very good. Now Mr. Horne" the agent attempted to explain "be reasonable. You know as well as I do that this has been an unprecedented disaster. The state couldn't begin to cope with the ice problems on the road with the equipment we had from before the Impact when we so seldom ever received ice before that. It takes time and money to gear up to handle problems like that."
"Yeah, you guys certainly take your time doing anything once you've taken our money!" Butch Two Crows interjected. "Supposing I agreed to pay your taxes, what am I to do about the fact that half or more of the business done here at the market is barter? And it's only going to increase because the High and Mighty are trying to bail their banks out by throwing our money overboard! You government types want to serve the public, you get us a stable dollar so we can do business in dollars and you might get a better reception in these parts!"
"Uh, yes. Mr. Two Crows, well, you see the STATE can't do much about the stability of the dollar I'm afraid. That's the Federal government's responsibility. But the State government still has to function and to do that we have to be able to collect the lawful taxes on commerce. I can understand the problems you all are having with the currency but it's outside of anything the State can possibly affect. I can appreciate that much of your business if of necessity in the form of barter and the state takes no position on that. All you have to do is to calculate the dollar value of that portion of your business and pay your sales tax obligation on it."
"Well ain't that just fine!" Butch snorted. " 'The State takes no position on barter, just pay us your taxes on it in dollars!' Half or more of my customers don't have any cash to do business with but we're supposed to pay you your percentage on the whole of our business from what cash we do take in! How are we supposed to stay in business like that?!"
The agent began once again to explain the situation to the recalcitrant traders when he realized that all conversation for many tables around had come to a stop with traders and customers alike intently attentive to their exchange. Many hard and stony gazes were being laid upon him and he began to feel their weight.
Another trader dealing in building materials spoke out. "Maybe if the government would show itself to be of some USE around here you'd got people more willing to consider paying your taxes. Far as I can tell the State ain't done diddely squat for anyone here since before that damned rock hit Bermuda! What's Tallahassee done for us since the asteroid came that we should pay it's taxes?"
A low, angry murmur began to arise from the assembled crowd of shoppers and traders. "I can't clothe my family now! If I have to pay government taxes on top of the way prices are now we'll be wearing rags!"
"Yeah!" Damn right!" "Goddamned government's got nerve to come here with its hand out." And other voices began to make themselves heard.
With the crowd growing ugly the agent said in a loud, but calm voice "I can see that I haven't done a good job of making my case. I'll come back next week when I'll be better prepared."
"You do that." Butch said.
The agent turned and began to pass through the crowd, not looking to either side and soon passed through the markets gates.
John turned to Butch and said, "And he will too. Probably at the head of a column of tax agents or state troopers. The State isn't going to take open rebellion like that lying down."
Butch grinned and said, "Yeah, don't you know it. But we got us a week didn't we? Who knows! Maybe by then the dollar will have collapsed and their won't be any money for them to collect taxes in!"
state of taxes
Alan,
I've been waiting for the tax collector to impinge on the commerce that has developed.
I always thought that 'pulling through' was way to naive about how gov't handles it's unceasing desire for cash.
It's instructive to note that the first revolt after the US was founded was over taxes (Whiskey Rebellion).
And that it took an Army to put it down.
But here the local Law may tell the State to shove it, well, elsewhere.
also shouldn't FL be getting some oil revenue out of the Gulf? or are the rigs still down?
But no one ever lost money betting on low level (and lowlife) buerocratz.
Alan,
I've been waiting for the tax collector to impinge on the commerce that has developed.
I always thought that 'pulling through' was way to naive about how gov't handles it's unceasing desire for cash.
It's instructive to note that the first revolt after the US was founded was over taxes (Whiskey Rebellion).
And that it took an Army to put it down.
But here the local Law may tell the State to shove it, well, elsewhere.
also shouldn't FL be getting some oil revenue out of the Gulf? or are the rigs still down?
But no one ever lost money betting on low level (and lowlife) buerocratz.
G
Glandor
Guest
*said in best junkie voice* "Ahh thanks Alan...I needed that"
G
Glandor
Guest
Oh dear..this had fallen all the way to the 4th page, we can't let that happen
BTTT
BTTT
A.T.Hagan
Inactive
July 4th, 2003 - Independence Day
The sickle bar added a not unpleasant shimmying motion to the steady drumming of the tractor as John guided it across the pasture turned hay field cutting a six foot swath through the dense forage. Behind him the girls followed with pitchforks spreading out any clumps in the mown grass so they would dry quickly and evenly. The sun shone warmly upon them but not so warm as in summers past. High temperatures were still only reaching the 90 degree mark. The weather reports gave only small probabilities for rain for the next four days so the Horne family was following the age old dictum of making hay while the sun shines.
They'd be stopping for a big Fourth of July dinner at noon. It was to be a community affair and Ellie, Heather, Ann, Lisa, and several other local women were up to the house putting the meal together. The men would come in at noon to eat and then go back to their respective work, at least those who were making their living from the land would. The kids old enough to work would do the same. That evening at dark they'd all gather together again for the fireworks. The entire community had contributed what they could towards the purchase of the sky rockets and sparklers. Such things were entirely imported so far as he could tell and the vast majority came from China so that in these post-Impact times they had become quite expensive. Still, they'd managed to acquire sufficient of them to impress the kids. John was more looking forward to the lemonade, home made ice cream and cake they'd be sharing. The lemons had been expensive as well, imported from Mexico. As he guided the tractor slowly cutting its way through the grass he wondered what could be done to lessen their reliance on imported goods to celebrate this most quintessential of American holidays. He briefly considered making his own fireworks but soon discarded the idea. He still had a small scar on his left hand from an adolescent experiment in pyrotechnic chemistry gone wrong and was concerned that if dabbled in it again it might lead one of the kids to try their own hand at the craft.
He reached the edge of the field so he slowly guided the tractor into its turn and could now see the girls walking along behind spreading the cut grass. Behind them he could see a flock of cattle egrets and the farm chicken flock working the cut forage for insects. Occasionally a rooster would chase off an egret for trespassing upon their prerogative. The wind brought the sharp, sweet smell of the cut grass to him and he realized he was smiling. He laughed and asked himself out loud, "Well, why not? We're all eating, no one's sick, we're putting food and feed up for the winter, we're not having to fight anyone, and by God, it's the Fourth of July and we're still Independent! I reckon a man's got a right to smile if he pleases!"
After a time he reached the end of the field and guided the tractor into another turn. The girls were reaching the end of the last swath and making the turn into the row he'd just left. He watched them for a time, working steadily talking and laughing amongst themselves. Being the tallest of the three he hoped that next year Brittany would achieve sufficient height that she could drive the tractor for the cutting. The fields were smooth and regular so there was little more needing to be done in the actual cutting but to guide the bar and once in a while make a small adjustment to the speed when the density of the grass changed. He'd had her try it this year but her legs were still somewhat too short to comfortably work the clutch and wheel brakes while staying in the seat. Tomorrow he'd have Ann on the tractor so that he could be doing other necessary work.
He looked across the fields and in the haze of the distance he could see Ed Strickland cutting his own fields, white egrets following behind him like drifting confetti. He and Ed had come to a cooperative arrangement in that Ed would bail John's hay in return for John and the girls helping him get his in as well. When John had finished cutting his own he'd start on the remaining uncut acreage that belonged to Ed. It was a good arrangement since Ed had far more hay than he could put up by himself and John didn't have a bailer. In this way John would not have pay someone to bail his hay and Ed wouldn't have to pay hired help. John would probably swap Ed for some of his hay in addition if his own cuttings didn't produce enough. In the pre-Impact times John had never put up his own hay, but now things had changed. Between his own pasture and that which he rented from Ed he now had enough to keep his stock on grass and to cut some for hay too. The less feed he had to buy then the more of their hard won earnings the family would be able to keep for itself.
The tractor made its slow way down the length of the field and he turned again, the inside square of uncut grass becoming steadily smaller. From this direction John could see his wheat waving in the breeze turning from green to gold. Adam Kincaid had told him the weekend before that he figured it would be ready for harvest by next weekend and would arrange for the University combine to come out. Nicholas Smith, the faculty member he assisted for had been in poor health since the Impact and had seldom been able to come out to the test fields, but Adam had become a regular along with Mitchell Martin, the forage specialist for the agricultural college. John hoped Dr. Smith would be interested in growing more for his research projects this coming winter since the University provided the seed and harvesting equipment, otherwise he'd have to try to find someone to combine the grain for him or simply cut it for hay.
He was half done when he heard the farm bell in the distance so he looked at his wristwatch for the time. "Glad to hear it!" he said aloud. He stopped the forward motion of the tractor, backed up a few feet then raised the mower bar so no one would walk into it by accident and shut off the tractor motor. Standing, he made a long, pleasurable stretch then climbed down from the machine to join the girls heading towards the house. "I don't know about you guys, but I could do with about a half-gallon of cold water. How's everybody's feet holding out?"
"I'm alright daddy, but I think my boots are starting to get a bit small." Melinda said. "It'll be nice to sit for a while though."
"I'm beat!" Cindy added. "Do you all do this every summer?"
"No," her Uncle replied. "This is the first time, in fact. You're helping to create a new family tradition!"
The girl smiled wearily but said nothing more. "I think my sneaker's starting to come apart Uncle John. Feels like the heel is loose." Brittany said, wiggling her right foot from side to side.
John smiled then patiently spoke, "Well, we'll get used to it. It's only for a couple of days and we won't do this again for another three, maybe four weeks or so if we get some regular rain. I reckon we'd better be looking into your shoe situations shortly though. You're all growing so it's only natural that you'll be needing new shoes before long."
Reaching the edge of the field they went through the gate and headed towards the tables under the trees, stopping first at the water hose by the barn to wash their face and hands. Mike, Kate, Stevie and Timmy Daniels were already there. Ellie was opening the covers on the barbecues and removing smoking pieces of meat as Ann brought out bowls of potato salad. Lisa was lowering a big basket of sweet corn into a cauldron of boiling water hung over a wood fire - she had just broke the ears and shucked it minutes before. A whiff of smoke from the grills made John's stomach growl.
A truck pulled up at the gate and Ed got out. Behind him came Jimmy Bryant, his brother Don, Sally Starling and her two children. They had all just come through the gates when the Hatchers arrived with Miguel and his family following behind. With them came pots and bowls and coolers which they began to deploy at Ellie's direction. "Feels like old times!" John said. "Too bad there aren't any feral dogs left, we could have a hunt!"
"Give it a couple of years and we could hunt quail. I flushed two coveys this morning." Ed Strickland said, "More than I've seen in quite a while. No stray cats around to eat up the babies so they're beginning to make a come back."
"Something to look forward to." Jimmy added. "I enjoyed those hunts. Be happy never to have to ride with the posse again though. Had enough of that to last me a lifetime."
"Very true my friend" Miguel said, "I for one hope to rest upon my laurels in the man hunting business but a spot of bird hunting would suit me if ever such ammunition comes back onto the market. My distributor tells me that perhaps by the end of the year they'll have such for civilian sale again but cannot promise anything."
"Enough nostalgia!" Ellie interjected, "The food's ready! Let's eat!"
The gathering sat to the table then bowed their heads as John gave the grace. When he finished Lisa gave him the sign and he lifted the basket of corn out of the water, the smell of the ears blowing across the table and exciting many interested looks. He set the basket down into a shallow pan on the table and took his place again. Food was passed around and plates filled. Little was said as everyone sampled fresh corn, barbecue hot off the grill, home baked beans and fruit jars of cold iced tea.
Presently Ed asked John "You gonna set up at the market in the morning? Weather's supposed to be pretty clear tomorrow."
John nodded his head, "Yes, we are. I'll take the girls in, get them set up, leave the trailer and come on back to the house. The dew shouldn't be off the grass yet so I won't miss any good cutting time. Along about dinner I'll knock off, go and pick them up and bring them home. After we've eaten I'll spend the rest of the day cutting and the girls can ted out what's already been cut."
"Sounds like a plan then." Ed said, "You reckon they'll be alright there by themselves?"
"Ann will be with them. Probably working school lessons into everything like she always does" His wife stuck her tongue out at him but said nothing. "Butch will be there to help out if she needs it but the kids have the routine pretty well knocked."
Miguel chuckled and said with a grin, "After the flim-flam you all performed on our fine gentlemen from the Revenue department I think anyone who would attempt to cheat your girls would think twice."
John grinned widely and said, "Now Miguel, that was NOT a flim-flam! We merely cooperated with the Revenue department in carrying out our civic duty!"
Jimmy snorted, "You mean you buffaloed them agents into treating you the way civil servants are SUPPOSED to treat people and made them like it to boot!"
A chuckle ran around the table as John denuded his ear of corn. "Why should they feel buffaloed?" he asked when he'd finished with the ear, "Weren't we cooperative? Didn't Butch sign up to collect the sales tax like he was supposed to? Now, granted Agent Hill did seem a trifle disappointed to discover that Horne Farm sold nothing that could be taxed but he got over it. The other traders who needed to sign up did as well, all nice and cooperative just like they were supposed to."
" 'All nice and cooperative, just like they were supposed to'" Mike Daniels mimicked John's voice then continued, "While neglecting to mention the small fact that Ross Hendry, state house rep for West Alachua county and Steve Williams, state senator for Alachua and Gilchrist counties were there watching the entire proceedings. I'd have given a pretty penny to have been there to see his face when Huck Finch told that revenue agent who they were. He thought he'd be doing some buffaloing of his own when he managed to get Huck and half the state troopers in the barracks on the north side of Gainesville ordered out to accompany him to the Archer market to force you guys into compliance. Instead he had to swallow that arrogant attitude he brought with him and simply help everyone to fill out their forms properly - polite like. John, that was as fine a piece of manipulation as I've ever heard of."
"Well, why shouldn't they be there?" John asked in an innocent tone, "They represent us in Tallahassee don't they? It's only natural they'd want to get out and meet their constituency at the market to press the flesh and kiss babies. But just to be clear I didn't invite them! I'd never met the two before. You need to apply to Mr. Alvarez here for Ross Hendry being there. He's the one who gave him the heads up. It was Abel Webster who's got the building supply business that invited Senator Williams. They're first cousins it turns out."
"But who masterminded it all?" Mike persisted. "Everyone knows that you and Butch put it all together."
"Only partially true actually," John explained. "We did call a meeting of all the market traders after the market closed. I was the one who suggested that we'd probably be treated with a lot more respect if we had some local authorities present to witness the proceedings but like I said, I don't know any reps or senators. It was Abel who mentioned that his cousin was our state senator. Carolita here brought up the fact that Miguel knew Ross. We just sort of laid out the plan of action. It was actually more work to convince everyone to cooperate with the revenuers. Once we explained that paper dollars were inflating away by the day but barter goods not only held their value but many actually increased that took the sting out somewhat, particularly since it would be very difficult, maybe outright impossible for the state to check on whether appropriate sales taxes were being paid from barter deals. We all agreed to clearly mark our signs 'plus seven percent state and county sales tax' for those who had to collect such which in turn will probably start making itself felt on the political level. I'm afraid we neglected to mention that last little fact to Ross and Steve when they were there but I'm sure it will begin to come to their attention in the near future. Not that I expect anything will come of it but it may just make Agent Hill less than popular with certain legislators in Tallahassee in the future."
John reached into the corn basket, pulled out another ear, dipped it into the can of melted butter and commenced to eating it, saying nothing more of the episode with the revenue department at the Archer market. Conversation turned to other areas and the meal was gradually consumed.
When everyone had their fill of the main course the men fished watermelons out of the ice filled washtubs they'd been placed in early and cut them up with machetes, passing out slices as they were chopped off. Ed pulled out his pocketknife and began to cut off bite sized pieces of melon and eating them. "Now this really takes me back. I can remember doing this with my dad's family every summer before the war in '41 when I was just a youngster. We'd work and sweat all morning until noon, come to the house, rinse off at the pump and eat at tables under the pecan trees. Daddy or one of the uncles would have come from town on the Fourth with big blocks of ice to chip to put in the tea or lemonade and there'd be big old water melons in washtubs chilling. No one had any money to buy anything new but we all ate, we made do with what we had and if we were poor I didn't know any better." He spit out a few seeds then continued. "That's what this feels like today. Almost like the last fifty years never happened at all. He we are cutting hay, picking fruit and vegetables and putting them up, no one's got any money but we're still having a big old picnic on the Fourth with barbecue and cold watermelons."
John nodded his head. "Yep, we do seem to be entering a strange dichotomy here. On the one hand we've got home computers, the Internet, modern medicine and on the other hand we're all out here cutting hay and putting up food for the winter."
"You know? I think I like it."
The sickle bar added a not unpleasant shimmying motion to the steady drumming of the tractor as John guided it across the pasture turned hay field cutting a six foot swath through the dense forage. Behind him the girls followed with pitchforks spreading out any clumps in the mown grass so they would dry quickly and evenly. The sun shone warmly upon them but not so warm as in summers past. High temperatures were still only reaching the 90 degree mark. The weather reports gave only small probabilities for rain for the next four days so the Horne family was following the age old dictum of making hay while the sun shines.
They'd be stopping for a big Fourth of July dinner at noon. It was to be a community affair and Ellie, Heather, Ann, Lisa, and several other local women were up to the house putting the meal together. The men would come in at noon to eat and then go back to their respective work, at least those who were making their living from the land would. The kids old enough to work would do the same. That evening at dark they'd all gather together again for the fireworks. The entire community had contributed what they could towards the purchase of the sky rockets and sparklers. Such things were entirely imported so far as he could tell and the vast majority came from China so that in these post-Impact times they had become quite expensive. Still, they'd managed to acquire sufficient of them to impress the kids. John was more looking forward to the lemonade, home made ice cream and cake they'd be sharing. The lemons had been expensive as well, imported from Mexico. As he guided the tractor slowly cutting its way through the grass he wondered what could be done to lessen their reliance on imported goods to celebrate this most quintessential of American holidays. He briefly considered making his own fireworks but soon discarded the idea. He still had a small scar on his left hand from an adolescent experiment in pyrotechnic chemistry gone wrong and was concerned that if dabbled in it again it might lead one of the kids to try their own hand at the craft.
He reached the edge of the field so he slowly guided the tractor into its turn and could now see the girls walking along behind spreading the cut grass. Behind them he could see a flock of cattle egrets and the farm chicken flock working the cut forage for insects. Occasionally a rooster would chase off an egret for trespassing upon their prerogative. The wind brought the sharp, sweet smell of the cut grass to him and he realized he was smiling. He laughed and asked himself out loud, "Well, why not? We're all eating, no one's sick, we're putting food and feed up for the winter, we're not having to fight anyone, and by God, it's the Fourth of July and we're still Independent! I reckon a man's got a right to smile if he pleases!"
After a time he reached the end of the field and guided the tractor into another turn. The girls were reaching the end of the last swath and making the turn into the row he'd just left. He watched them for a time, working steadily talking and laughing amongst themselves. Being the tallest of the three he hoped that next year Brittany would achieve sufficient height that she could drive the tractor for the cutting. The fields were smooth and regular so there was little more needing to be done in the actual cutting but to guide the bar and once in a while make a small adjustment to the speed when the density of the grass changed. He'd had her try it this year but her legs were still somewhat too short to comfortably work the clutch and wheel brakes while staying in the seat. Tomorrow he'd have Ann on the tractor so that he could be doing other necessary work.
He looked across the fields and in the haze of the distance he could see Ed Strickland cutting his own fields, white egrets following behind him like drifting confetti. He and Ed had come to a cooperative arrangement in that Ed would bail John's hay in return for John and the girls helping him get his in as well. When John had finished cutting his own he'd start on the remaining uncut acreage that belonged to Ed. It was a good arrangement since Ed had far more hay than he could put up by himself and John didn't have a bailer. In this way John would not have pay someone to bail his hay and Ed wouldn't have to pay hired help. John would probably swap Ed for some of his hay in addition if his own cuttings didn't produce enough. In the pre-Impact times John had never put up his own hay, but now things had changed. Between his own pasture and that which he rented from Ed he now had enough to keep his stock on grass and to cut some for hay too. The less feed he had to buy then the more of their hard won earnings the family would be able to keep for itself.
The tractor made its slow way down the length of the field and he turned again, the inside square of uncut grass becoming steadily smaller. From this direction John could see his wheat waving in the breeze turning from green to gold. Adam Kincaid had told him the weekend before that he figured it would be ready for harvest by next weekend and would arrange for the University combine to come out. Nicholas Smith, the faculty member he assisted for had been in poor health since the Impact and had seldom been able to come out to the test fields, but Adam had become a regular along with Mitchell Martin, the forage specialist for the agricultural college. John hoped Dr. Smith would be interested in growing more for his research projects this coming winter since the University provided the seed and harvesting equipment, otherwise he'd have to try to find someone to combine the grain for him or simply cut it for hay.
He was half done when he heard the farm bell in the distance so he looked at his wristwatch for the time. "Glad to hear it!" he said aloud. He stopped the forward motion of the tractor, backed up a few feet then raised the mower bar so no one would walk into it by accident and shut off the tractor motor. Standing, he made a long, pleasurable stretch then climbed down from the machine to join the girls heading towards the house. "I don't know about you guys, but I could do with about a half-gallon of cold water. How's everybody's feet holding out?"
"I'm alright daddy, but I think my boots are starting to get a bit small." Melinda said. "It'll be nice to sit for a while though."
"I'm beat!" Cindy added. "Do you all do this every summer?"
"No," her Uncle replied. "This is the first time, in fact. You're helping to create a new family tradition!"
The girl smiled wearily but said nothing more. "I think my sneaker's starting to come apart Uncle John. Feels like the heel is loose." Brittany said, wiggling her right foot from side to side.
John smiled then patiently spoke, "Well, we'll get used to it. It's only for a couple of days and we won't do this again for another three, maybe four weeks or so if we get some regular rain. I reckon we'd better be looking into your shoe situations shortly though. You're all growing so it's only natural that you'll be needing new shoes before long."
Reaching the edge of the field they went through the gate and headed towards the tables under the trees, stopping first at the water hose by the barn to wash their face and hands. Mike, Kate, Stevie and Timmy Daniels were already there. Ellie was opening the covers on the barbecues and removing smoking pieces of meat as Ann brought out bowls of potato salad. Lisa was lowering a big basket of sweet corn into a cauldron of boiling water hung over a wood fire - she had just broke the ears and shucked it minutes before. A whiff of smoke from the grills made John's stomach growl.
A truck pulled up at the gate and Ed got out. Behind him came Jimmy Bryant, his brother Don, Sally Starling and her two children. They had all just come through the gates when the Hatchers arrived with Miguel and his family following behind. With them came pots and bowls and coolers which they began to deploy at Ellie's direction. "Feels like old times!" John said. "Too bad there aren't any feral dogs left, we could have a hunt!"
"Give it a couple of years and we could hunt quail. I flushed two coveys this morning." Ed Strickland said, "More than I've seen in quite a while. No stray cats around to eat up the babies so they're beginning to make a come back."
"Something to look forward to." Jimmy added. "I enjoyed those hunts. Be happy never to have to ride with the posse again though. Had enough of that to last me a lifetime."
"Very true my friend" Miguel said, "I for one hope to rest upon my laurels in the man hunting business but a spot of bird hunting would suit me if ever such ammunition comes back onto the market. My distributor tells me that perhaps by the end of the year they'll have such for civilian sale again but cannot promise anything."
"Enough nostalgia!" Ellie interjected, "The food's ready! Let's eat!"
The gathering sat to the table then bowed their heads as John gave the grace. When he finished Lisa gave him the sign and he lifted the basket of corn out of the water, the smell of the ears blowing across the table and exciting many interested looks. He set the basket down into a shallow pan on the table and took his place again. Food was passed around and plates filled. Little was said as everyone sampled fresh corn, barbecue hot off the grill, home baked beans and fruit jars of cold iced tea.
Presently Ed asked John "You gonna set up at the market in the morning? Weather's supposed to be pretty clear tomorrow."
John nodded his head, "Yes, we are. I'll take the girls in, get them set up, leave the trailer and come on back to the house. The dew shouldn't be off the grass yet so I won't miss any good cutting time. Along about dinner I'll knock off, go and pick them up and bring them home. After we've eaten I'll spend the rest of the day cutting and the girls can ted out what's already been cut."
"Sounds like a plan then." Ed said, "You reckon they'll be alright there by themselves?"
"Ann will be with them. Probably working school lessons into everything like she always does" His wife stuck her tongue out at him but said nothing. "Butch will be there to help out if she needs it but the kids have the routine pretty well knocked."
Miguel chuckled and said with a grin, "After the flim-flam you all performed on our fine gentlemen from the Revenue department I think anyone who would attempt to cheat your girls would think twice."
John grinned widely and said, "Now Miguel, that was NOT a flim-flam! We merely cooperated with the Revenue department in carrying out our civic duty!"
Jimmy snorted, "You mean you buffaloed them agents into treating you the way civil servants are SUPPOSED to treat people and made them like it to boot!"
A chuckle ran around the table as John denuded his ear of corn. "Why should they feel buffaloed?" he asked when he'd finished with the ear, "Weren't we cooperative? Didn't Butch sign up to collect the sales tax like he was supposed to? Now, granted Agent Hill did seem a trifle disappointed to discover that Horne Farm sold nothing that could be taxed but he got over it. The other traders who needed to sign up did as well, all nice and cooperative just like they were supposed to."
" 'All nice and cooperative, just like they were supposed to'" Mike Daniels mimicked John's voice then continued, "While neglecting to mention the small fact that Ross Hendry, state house rep for West Alachua county and Steve Williams, state senator for Alachua and Gilchrist counties were there watching the entire proceedings. I'd have given a pretty penny to have been there to see his face when Huck Finch told that revenue agent who they were. He thought he'd be doing some buffaloing of his own when he managed to get Huck and half the state troopers in the barracks on the north side of Gainesville ordered out to accompany him to the Archer market to force you guys into compliance. Instead he had to swallow that arrogant attitude he brought with him and simply help everyone to fill out their forms properly - polite like. John, that was as fine a piece of manipulation as I've ever heard of."
"Well, why shouldn't they be there?" John asked in an innocent tone, "They represent us in Tallahassee don't they? It's only natural they'd want to get out and meet their constituency at the market to press the flesh and kiss babies. But just to be clear I didn't invite them! I'd never met the two before. You need to apply to Mr. Alvarez here for Ross Hendry being there. He's the one who gave him the heads up. It was Abel Webster who's got the building supply business that invited Senator Williams. They're first cousins it turns out."
"But who masterminded it all?" Mike persisted. "Everyone knows that you and Butch put it all together."
"Only partially true actually," John explained. "We did call a meeting of all the market traders after the market closed. I was the one who suggested that we'd probably be treated with a lot more respect if we had some local authorities present to witness the proceedings but like I said, I don't know any reps or senators. It was Abel who mentioned that his cousin was our state senator. Carolita here brought up the fact that Miguel knew Ross. We just sort of laid out the plan of action. It was actually more work to convince everyone to cooperate with the revenuers. Once we explained that paper dollars were inflating away by the day but barter goods not only held their value but many actually increased that took the sting out somewhat, particularly since it would be very difficult, maybe outright impossible for the state to check on whether appropriate sales taxes were being paid from barter deals. We all agreed to clearly mark our signs 'plus seven percent state and county sales tax' for those who had to collect such which in turn will probably start making itself felt on the political level. I'm afraid we neglected to mention that last little fact to Ross and Steve when they were there but I'm sure it will begin to come to their attention in the near future. Not that I expect anything will come of it but it may just make Agent Hill less than popular with certain legislators in Tallahassee in the future."
John reached into the corn basket, pulled out another ear, dipped it into the can of melted butter and commenced to eating it, saying nothing more of the episode with the revenue department at the Archer market. Conversation turned to other areas and the meal was gradually consumed.
When everyone had their fill of the main course the men fished watermelons out of the ice filled washtubs they'd been placed in early and cut them up with machetes, passing out slices as they were chopped off. Ed pulled out his pocketknife and began to cut off bite sized pieces of melon and eating them. "Now this really takes me back. I can remember doing this with my dad's family every summer before the war in '41 when I was just a youngster. We'd work and sweat all morning until noon, come to the house, rinse off at the pump and eat at tables under the pecan trees. Daddy or one of the uncles would have come from town on the Fourth with big blocks of ice to chip to put in the tea or lemonade and there'd be big old water melons in washtubs chilling. No one had any money to buy anything new but we all ate, we made do with what we had and if we were poor I didn't know any better." He spit out a few seeds then continued. "That's what this feels like today. Almost like the last fifty years never happened at all. He we are cutting hay, picking fruit and vegetables and putting them up, no one's got any money but we're still having a big old picnic on the Fourth with barbecue and cold watermelons."
John nodded his head. "Yep, we do seem to be entering a strange dichotomy here. On the one hand we've got home computers, the Internet, modern medicine and on the other hand we're all out here cutting hay and putting up food for the winter."
"You know? I think I like it."
Alan, signed back in just to tell you your writing is excellent. I am a reader - at least 5 books a week and believe me it's really hard to find good stories. I know lots have told you this - but you really might want to think about getting an agent and publishing this for real. EVen if it's your 1 time shot think of the residuals -
Just 2 questions - In the story the Horne's have goats including young ones - how come they never milked the does? Even if the does were still feeding the kids, a doe will up production to match the outgo. And also I couldn't catch the timimg between hatching 100 chicks and them getting 200 eggs a day, but a chicken has to be at least 5 months old to start laying and they take 24 hours to produce an egg so 100 chickens laying = 50 eggs a day. I know I'm being picky but still! Keep it going please and thank you for your time and creativity.
Just 2 questions - In the story the Horne's have goats including young ones - how come they never milked the does? Even if the does were still feeding the kids, a doe will up production to match the outgo. And also I couldn't catch the timimg between hatching 100 chicks and them getting 200 eggs a day, but a chicken has to be at least 5 months old to start laying and they take 24 hours to produce an egg so 100 chickens laying = 50 eggs a day. I know I'm being picky but still! Keep it going please and thank you for your time and creativity.
S
Summoner
Guest
100 hens would be closer to 75 eggs/day.