A Hard Year's Harvest

March 11th 1932

The wind is blowing in from the west tonight, bringing the rain clouds closer.

We need the rain. It’s been a dry year.

Dust storms had hit our small town twice so far, ending our hopes for a bountiful harvest and a little extra money in our pockets. Hell, we can’t even make ends meet this year. The meals are getting smaller and smaller as our little nest egg runs out. Sharon swears that we will be alright if we can manage to find some part- time work but between plowing the fields and taking care of the kids, I just don’t see it happening. Besides, who wants to hire a farmer who only knows how to plant crops and isn’t very good at anything else?

As if there was any work to be had…

It’s been hard this year. The worse we have ever known. With the drought, the dust storms, and the bad harvest, I wonder if our little town is going to make it. The Johnston family left town last week, moving down to California and the hopes of finding work. Farming was never Bill's strong point anyways. Best leave it to the rest of us with the green thumbs he had said.

I never thought of having a green thumb. More like a good knowledge of raising crops and two strong sons and a wife to help with the chores. I rely more on my family and practicality than some mythical, vernal touch of nature. Foolishness.

Justin will miss Debbie Johnston though. Sharon thinks the two of them were having some sort of romantic fling but I never saw anything between them. Not that I really had the time to look. As long as the boy was in the fields behind that plow when I asked him, it isn’t any of my business what he does with his free time. Just like my Daddy did with me and I think I turned out just fine. Best use what works and raising my children in the same way my father did with me is just fine.

Tradition is important to us all. Farming is our tradition, our family’s lifeblood for three generations.

I won’t let it die because of one bad harvest and a year of dwindling finances.

We will survive. We have to.

~~
April 2nd 1932:

Sharon is talking about pawning her mother’s china again. I won’t let her do it. Her mother’s dying wishes was for her to keep those funny plates in the family and by God, we will honor those wishes. She says it’s silly to worry about a dead woman’s desires when the living needs to break them to keep on living. I assured her that we would find the money to put food on the table but it wouldn’t come to her selling her finery.

She loves that china.

I won’t let her give away what she loves. I am the provider. I will make the sacrifices before my poor wife does.

God, I love her.

I will make ends meet. One way or another.

~~
May 5th 1932:

Justin is talking about heading out to New York City to find a job and promises to send money home. I want to let him go but I need him here. We need him here. I told him that Mr. Philips was looking for more ranch hands over in Williamsburg and I could pull some strings to get him work. Justin doesn’t want to do it but he has to understand that it is all we can do.

I can’t afford to send him to New York. I can’t spend any more money because there isn’t any.

We spent the last few dollars on getting Sharon’s dead-beat brother out of prison again. Why we are helping that God damned bastard before ourselves is beyond me…

But he is family, or at least he is to Sharon. He promises her that he will pay her back next month.

We can’t wait till next month. I know he isn’t good for the money either. He will just drink himself into oblivion with his good-for-nothing friends and take to stealing again. Such a waste of a good life. He was once a good Christian boy but one wrong turn and he’s gone and ruined his life.

Why should I care? I have my own family to take care of and shouldn’t waste my time worrying about a lazy bastard like him.

Sharon really needs to distance herself from her brother and focus on this family instead.

~~
May 28th 1932:

Justin and I exchanged words last night.

He went and got himself fired from the ranch hand job I had to fight to get him. The dumb bastard thought he was too good from that job and told his boss off. One thing led to another and Justin comes home without his week's pay and a broken nose.

My son, my own flesh and blood, has turned out like his own uncle, a good-for-nothing lout.

I told him just that and he took a swing at his own father. The man who has led him through life and shown him how to be a man. The same man who put food on the table and raised him to respect his family and our traditions.

It was the first time I have ever raised a hand to my son.

Justin lay there on the floor for a long time, holding his face and moaning softly. He was sobbing and I just stood over him, watching. Sharon came in and flung her arms around Justin, screaming at me for hitting him. What did she expect me to do? Let him hit me, his own father?!

I left that night and spent the evening over at Gary’s. He was kind enough to put me up at his place, just until things cooled off.

Sharon was crying in the kitchen when I got home the next morning. Justin had run off in the middle of the night, not leaving a note or nothing. All of his clothes were gone and so was the money he had made as a ranch hand. He had been saving it up, giving the family the other half of his pay each week.

Sharon blames me for Justin leaving. I blame myself.

I should have just let him go off to New York and find his own way in the world.

We would have found a way to keep going on, making ends meet.

Now I have lost my eldest son and my wife’s trust.

~~
July 4th 1932:

There are no fireworks this year. The county can’t afford them. Nobody can afford anything.

There simply isn’t enough jobs or goods to go around.

Gary’s family is heading east, back to Maine. They say that Gary’s mother is going to put him and his wife to work at her store in Boston and will help take care of the twins while the two of them work. It’s good to know that his family will be taken care of during these hard times. I will miss him though.

But the man is doing what is best for his family and I can respect that. God bless men like him.

~~
August 1st 1932:

I took Justin’s old job and tend the fields at day and help out at the ranch during the night. It is helping us but I fear I am going to be worn out before my time.

Another sacrifice for the family.

Sharon’s brother is back in jail but this time he isn’t getting out. He murdered a storekeeper during a failed robbery. He will be put to death in a few months for his crimes. I only hope God has mercy on his soul, for Sharon’s sake.

She cries herself to sleep every night.

She won’t let me hold her anymore.

I guess I deserve as much. I just wish I could give her Justin back.

~~
September 10th 1932:

Justin wrote home today. He found work at a newspaper in New York City. He always was an ace at English and he sent home fifteen dollars with his letter.

Sharon is happy again.

We made love for the first time in months.

My son is finally a man I can be proud of, a provider for his family. I only wish he was close enough for me to tell him this.

I want to tell him a lot of things.

Sharon promises she will tell him in her letters how proud we are of him. I can only smile.

My son is a man.

~~
October 21st 1932:

The fall is starting and the fields are all but dead. The dust storms have been getting worse and Sharon is looking somber.

The farm is dying. This county is dying.

I refuse to leave though. My grandfather nurtured these lands so that his family can do the same, with each generation tilling the fields as those before them did.

We won’t give up.

Sharon says I am being stubborn and that I need to understand that maybe it would be best for the family if we moved out to New York and lived with Justin. She tells me that Justin can get me work.

I told her no. That’s final. We are staying.

This is our farm, our home, our livelihood. It is our tradition and I will not let it die with me.

She understands. At least I hope she does.

She is crying herself to sleep again.

~~
November 1st 1932:

The fields are nothing more than shadows and dust. I have failed my father and his father. I have failed my family.

I tried; the Good Lord knows I did everything I could to take care of this farm, this family.

Justin stopped sending money home, his last letter telling us that he lost his job after someone more qualified than him took his position for less pay. He has enough money to come home and will be here next week.

What can he do here?

There is nothing left to farm, there is nothing left to tend to, there is nothing left to care for.

Nothing but his family.

I can’t wait to see my son again, regardless of how hopeless it seems here. We are talking of heading out west, towards California. Work can be found there, or so the Johnstons said in their last letter to Sharon. It may not be the type of work I am use to but we will manage.

We have to.

I live for my family and no matter how hard the year has been, I will find a way to ensure their prosperity.

It has been a hard year’s harvest but the next year will be better.

I will make it that way.

For the love of my family, I will do anything.