The Clackamas print., May 13, 1992, Page 8, Image 8

RHAPSODY
R4
THE 1992 CLACKAMAS COLLECTION
pork, and the other always of peanut butter and
ONIONS
“stand,” just in case another onion-planter might
need it, someday.
Measure,, bend over, poke and stuff, then
Thad walked slowly down the lane, occa­
hand-pat the dirt around the shoot. Was this like sionally stumbling from looking at the acres of onions
being alone before a confession, had to think up all and potatoes. Thad’s Onions. A job done good.
those sins and then tell them to the priest? Was this There was a feeling of sadness; he knew he would
penance for saying ‘God damn’ too much? Grades never see Farmer, Ona and Mule again. At the high­
weren’t so good in school, had worked hard to even way’s edge Thad looked to the direction Mother and
get“C’s”.
the Man had taken, could that way be more reward­
End of the row. Tote two five gallon cans of ing? Perhaps lead to the Missipp * and makin ’ a raft?
water to the row end, look both ways along the high­
Smart thumping nudges between Thad’s
way. Why farmed out? Why here? How did Mother shoulder blades moved him to the center of the
find out about this farm-hand stuff? There was that highway. Mule had quietly followed, and was again
time last summer when the gang swiped a box of Babe offering reason and direction. Thad crossed the
Ruth’s and got caught by the cops. So, 20,000 plants highway as Mule returned to the lane and retraced
grow into onions, and probably sell for a penny each, their steps from the house. Thad began trudging
how many dollars would that be? Jeez! $200. Mother north.
was earning a dollar a day making shirts in the
A Dodge sedan with a strong sounding six
factory. Measure, bend over, poke and stuff, then cylinder engine rolled to a stop beside Thad, the car
hand-pat the dirt around the shoot.
was heavy and without squeaks. The driver nodded
Then there was the time he got in a fight with his head, opened the passenger-side front door as an
that nigger kid; cost three dollars to have a doctor invitation to ride.
straighten Thad’s busted nose and sew up his upper
“Springfield?”
lip. And Thad was supposed to have won that scrap.
He wasn’t sure which was the most important lesson
learned: either don’t fight with niggers, or don’t fight
There was a feeling of sadness; he
with a kid bigger than yourself. One thing learned,
knew he would never see Farmer,
forsure and forever, was to refer to them, nowdays,
as Negros. Measure, bend over, poke and stuff, then
Ona and Mule again. At the high­
hand-pat dirt around the shoot.
Big Eddie often clipped two to three dollars
way's edge Thad looked to the direc­
a day hustling pool marks. Measure, bend over, poke
tion Mother and the Man had taken,
and stuff, then hand-pat dirt around the shoot.
Farmer and Mule were working the other
could that way be more rewarding?
one-acre field, harrowing and ditching. Both plod­
Perhaps lead to the Missipp' and
ding along as if they were in each other’s dream­
world. Wasn’t the farmer that plowed the straight
makin' a raft?
furrows, it was Mule; all Farmer could see was the
mule’s tail and rump. Since Mule took pride in his
work, Thad guessed he should too, but could only
average three rows in the mornings and four rows in
“Yup!” The driver had an aura of a moon­
the afternoons. Took 14 days to do the acre of 100 shine runner. “What’cha been doin’ out here?”
rows with 18,900 onion plants.
“Plantin’ Bermudas and spuds.”
And Ona sungher songs that made a guy feel
The miles slipped quietly by. After asking
good. Misty rains came, when she called them, but where Thad wanted to get out, Driver offered his ad­
only after Saturdays’ sundowns, and then stopped vice: “Hit’s a hell of a lot easier plantin’ than hand
about noon on Sundays. Monday mornings, after pullin’ ‘em in the fall.” Then reflectively added,
Ona’s gentle rains, shining diamonds with sparkling “Wors’en pickin’ cotton, ‘cuz them gunny’s of taters
and big whites gets awful heavy draggin’ the sacks
rays clung to the blades of the planted sprouts.
And then there was the potato acre,. Meas­ ‘tween your legs. I lit out once too, was a couple of
ure, bend over, poke and stuff, then hand-pat dirt years older than you, though. Go to where you can
around the shoot. As Thad moved from each row he get edikated, keep to the book learnin’ andyouwon’t
left it with a decision to one of bis problems, and a bust your back.” The driver let Thad off in front of
Pete’s Pool Parlor.
sense of relief.
Entering the apartment, Thad found Mother
This work was the shits — there was a way to escape,
but down inside, Thad really didn’t want to. He and Teener sitting at the kitchen table lunching on
could be a lot worse off being somewhere else, after store-bought three-day-old donuts and tea. Thad
all—there were only 100 rows for potatoes. Farmer tossed his suitcase under his cot in the kitchen, raised
looked over the plantings each evening, always say­ his eyebrows, mustered a sheepish smile and said,
ing the same thing, “You did 3 good job. They’re “Hi, I’m ...”, the sentence wasn’t even out when
Mother said, “There aren’t any donuts left, there’s
going to grow just fine.”
The onion and potato acres were planted. some cheese in the icebox and bread in the box to
To further delay an ending, and without being asked, make a sandwich.” Thad wondered which one of
Thad hoed away new weeds and grasses from be­ them had remembered to empty the icebox drip pan
tween the rows of corn. Summer “vacation” was while he was gone.
near-gone. The boots were brushed and rubbed with
Making a living being a farmer might not be
the same oil used on Mule’s harness, and left on the too bad, especially considering that Big Eddie was
floor below the nails on the wall. The book of The now in the Boy’s Reformatory in Jefferson for using
Black Rose was left on the shelf of the bed-side a pool cue on a mark.
continued from Pg. 1 jelly. Ona liked peanut butter and jelly.
200 onion starts. Farmer’s idea was to use a one inch
wide stick, two feet long, to poke a hole in the ditch,
then stuff the onion plant in. Only about a half-inch
of the green shoot was to stick up above ground. The
distance between the plants were to be measured by
the boot, from heel to toe, plus the width of Thad’s
fist. A flat contained enough plants to do one row.
Watering was from the five gallon square cans, each
with a stick-plugged hole at the bottom of one corner.
Pull out the plug and a half-inch wide squirt of water
could be directed to the planted ditch. Two cans were
needed for each row.
Planting onions, to Thad, was hard and
cruel work; however, it did gave a guy time to think
and maybe plan a future. Bermuda Sweets - imagine
an island, only 20 miles big, somewhere in the west­
ern Atlantic ocean, where they grew nothing but
onions. Doubtful that pirates would stop there to
bury treasure in the onion fields, the smell was
almost as bad garlic. Guess the people there only had
fish and onions to eat; kind of like the Hawaiians on
coconuts and fish. Measure, bend over, poke and
stuff, then hand-pat the dirt around the shoot.
How to escape? Which way? Took from
Monday through the following Thursday to plan an
escape. The creek would eventually empty into the
White river and the White into the Missip’. Tom
Sawyer built a raft. Measure, bend over, poke and
End of the row. Tote two five gallon cans of
water to the row end, look both ways along the
highway. Water the row, ‘way back to the first plant.
Measure, bend over, poke and stuff, then hand-pat
dirt around the shoot.
Better not lay down on this job. Buzzards
might swoop down. Thad knew, from movies, that
buzzards ate cowboys and dead horses. He had never
seen a buzzard up close because they were always
soaring in circles, maybe a mile high. How big is a
city block? How many rows? How many plantings?
How long to do an acre? Measure, bend over, poke
and stuff, then hand-pat the dirt around the shoot.
Each noon Ona would waddle down the row
where Thad was planting, squinting so hard against
the sunlight it was a wonder she could even see the
rows. Her straight long black hair was twisted into a
ball, up off her neck, onto the back of her head. To
toe her way in the plowed furrow, Ona would straddle
the planted onions, leaning heavily to one side and
then the other as she swung a leg forward for the next
step. God, if she fell over she would wipe out three
rows of plantin’. Even with his back turned away
from Ona, Thad could feel her approach like a warm
and comforting breeze, and then could hear her sing­
ing or chanting praises and thanks to the spirit of
mother earth, the wind, the sun and rain. Lunch was
carried to Thad in a woven reed basket. A pint jar of
buttermilk, a little bit salted and with flecks of black
pepper; two biscuits, one with a slab of ham or side
Rhapsody is a collection of literary works done by students at Clackamas Community
College. Our intent is to further our community’s awareness of the literary arts. Portland and
its surrounding areas are a virtual cultural mecca. No where else in the United S tates is there such
a widespread and ever-growing acknowledgement of the arts. Many great writers, poets and
painters are flocking to this region, attracted by the beauty and serenity of the Pacific Northwest.
In true fashion, many locals are discovering that within themselves exists a passion for creation
and expression; we are seeing a large emergence of native artists. In short, the arts are alive and
well here at home.
We hope you enjoy this first of the Rhapsody inserts. All the writings included were
winners or finalists in the writers’ club contest, with the exception of Snowboarder. Rhapsody
looks to become a monthly Clackamas feature next year so be sure to continue writing through­
out your Summer vacation. We thoroughly hope you enjoy these lovely works.
Editor
Robert A. Hibberd
Assistant Editor
Melissa Freels
Onions Artist
Lorin Arendt