June 7, 2003 - Summertime
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Trying telling it all to my wife!
Here's your story post! Just broke 120,000 words.
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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.
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"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!"