with the dust billowing up behind him.
As he turned the corner at the end of the field, he looked up and saw a wall of red-brown dust coming directly at him. A dust storm could be deadly because if you inhale, all that enters is dry dirt. Junior shut the motor off, jumped down behind the tractor in a furrow, covered his head and face with his hat and handkerchief. The dust storm swept over him as he tried not to breathe very much. It felt like someone rubbing sandpaper over his body. The storm howled and he could feel the dust particles ripping at his overalls. His one thought was his family, but they would be inside with the windows and door shut. That wouldn't completely stop the dust, but at least they could breathe.
It grew calm again and Junior stood up shaking the dust off. He took his hat and beat his head and on down his body to his ankles. He walked off leaving the tractor for another time. He hurried home to check on what little stock they had left. He stopped by the chicken coop and found the chickens all dead. In the barn the old mother cow was fine. At least with the cow they had some milk for the grandson.
Back at the house he found everyone mostly okay. His father was having some trouble breathing, but other than that, the women were sweeping the dust out the door. Junior said, "Looks like chicken for dinner. The dust storm wiped em out."
"Figures as God is rubbing salt into our wounds. Well, I'll not let Him kick me when I'm down cause I ain't' goin down, no way," said Millie.
John came in with his cardboard suitcase in hand. All looked at him stopping what they were doing. He looked at each of them saying, "Yes, I'm hitching to Houston and looking to join up. If not, I'll find something to do. I can't sit here any longer doing nothing. Like grandma says, 'Get off your butt and do something even if it's wrong.' Well for better or worse. My friend Larry loaned me a five spot for the road. I promise to send a post card."
John received hugs around and a firm handshake from his father. His grandfather never batted an eye, but watched him hike down the gravel road with small puffs of dust rising around his shoes.
Beth and Millie decided it was time for a real cup of coffee. Beth carefully measured out just enough for three cups. They couldn't afford a percolator so she used a drip maker that worked just fine. Millie ran the water pump next to the sink. It seemed like it was taking longer and longer to fill a gallon container with water.
After the coffee was ready, they took their cups to the front porch for a sit down coffee break. Just the smell of it was enough for Junior. Nothing smells as good as coffee; well maybe bacon cooking in the mornings runs a close second. The only sounds were the sipping and exclaiming-- ahs--- after each bending of the elbow. If you listened carefully, you could hear the sound of a few birds looking for a place to land out of the sun. Junior looked across their wasteland seeing a few dead weeds and a few tumbleweeds residing against the barn. It was April and the temperature on the porch was almost 80 degree at just after noon.
Nobody said a word. All were enjoying their first real cup of coffee in ages. Junior sat back wondering just how long they could hope to hold out before it became crunch time. People had to eat and people had to purchase necessary things for their everyday life. Clothes had to be washed; as well as bodies to prevent illness. Good water was required each day for life. Some fuel to drive to town about five miles distant. Sure it was cheap oil, but it still cost some money. Junior thought maybe to sell part of the original farm. Some time back, a few years ago, a real estate man wanted their property alongside the river. At that time, Senior ran him off with pitch fork in his hands. Junior smiled remembering that story.
Junior thought about what to do next. Water was becoming as scarce as money. Both his wife and mother were complaining. What they needed was a deeper well; as most of his neighbors silently agreed. He looked at his father who seemed in a world of his own. Maybe, he thought, that's the best place to be. His gaze went to his mother who had a look of ultimate despair written all over her face. Junior thought, it's fitting and can't be helped. She relied on her god to help her through both good and bad times. However, being a sod buster usually meant mostly bad times and darn few good times. Passing his eyes over to his wife who had just finished her cup of coffee and was starring at the empty cup, Junior wondered what was going through her mind. It's been five long years since the drought struck Texas and the surrounding region. Even by past standards, this drought had no equal. Maybe it was time to sell the river land.
What would they do with the river front property was no mystery: new homes at a price out of this world that only rich people could afford. Be that as it may, Junior thought he'd check out the local real estate folks next time in town.
-1956-
A year has passed since Janet took off to Detroit with a so called friend who thought he could work for GM. They did get few postcards saying her friend had found a job and that she was working waiting tables in some dive. Both her parents could feel in the cards that all wasn't peaches and cream; but here was none the better.
Junior took his yearly place leaning against the door jamb with his pocket knife digging out a long vertical line next to the five lines previously made. Six was the number of the years since it rained enough to settle the dust.
Swartch Senior sat in his usual place on the porch. His knurled arthritic hands gripped the arms of the wooden rocker as if it was about to fly away. He was pitiful to look at with multiple small strokes; his face drooped to one side, leaving one eye almost closed. Stress had taken a once proud and stout man to his knees.
Junior saw a rising cloud of dust from a vehicle coming down the road towards their farm. He wondered who would be visiting this early morning as the sun had just barely risen above the horizon. Junior never moved as his neighbor Ed Weldon drove up in his prewar pickup. He took off his hat to fan the dust away while he walked up to the porch. Junior said, "Mornin Ed. You're out and about early."
"Wife is busy packing and wanted to tell you folk's bye. We were foreclosed on by the bank. I don't fault the bank none. We've some kin in Kentucky so we'll move on. Well, no use in standing here jawing. It's been nice having you for neighbors for the last a fifty years. Here's our new address if you've time to send a note on Christmas," said Ed handing Junior a piece of paper. Both Millie and Beth had heard the truck coming and were standing with Junior on the porch listening. Beth wanted to say something, but she was at a loss for words.
"I'd say good luck to you 'all, but luck is not what we need; it's rain and lots of it. We hope to see the Lord shed some big tears for the land he made for us to grow food. See ya," said Ed as he walked back to his old pickup. Junior wondered how the old truck would hold up for the long trip to Kentucky. At least he thought it was a long ways, but if the truth were known, he had no idea where Kentucky was.
Beth quietly said, "Breakfast, such as it is, is ready."
At the table, Junior said, "I'm ready to throw in the towel. The steel mills in the east want men badly. I'm only 46 and can do a day's work with the best of them. The problem is how to get there." He looked around the table to see stone faced family members staring at him like he was crazy. "I guess like John I could hitch a ride," he laughed and laughed. Soon everybody was laughing. The laughing ended when Senior feel off his chair deader than a door nail.
At the cemetery, pastor Edwin; spoke as if he knew who Barnie Swartch Sr. all his life. In fact, he'd never met the guy. Nobody, of course raised an issue, but reflected as they stood there about a man who for years was a pillar of the farming community. Junior was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard the first shovel full of Texas dry dirt hit the coffin. It was like looking down on his coffin to come.
A passage or story came back to him as Moses led his people around the desert for forty years. Sure a few gave up, but the ones who persevered, received land they could reap a harvest from. Six years of drought wasn't a life time, he thought. But, how much longer could they hold out. Beth, his mother was frail and pitiful looking. She was nothing but skin and bones. His
wife, Millie didn't look much different as both stood side by side at the grave. Their clothes hung on them like kid hand-me-downs from a much older sibling. Millie was holding the little guy Nathan who had finally quit crying for his long lost mother.
"Hello grandma, mother, father. I hurried to get here and glad I made it in time for gramps was completely covered, "said John. He took young Nathan from his mother and at the same time slipped her two hundred dollars. Nathan never batted an eye as he must have known John was family.
Back home, after a nice dinner of meat and potatoes, thanks to John, they listened to his story of living in the big city. "If you want to work there're jobs. If you want an education, there're schools abound. If you're looking for a mate, no problem. If you're looking for love, go home to your family.
-1957-
In late January, President Eisenhower flew to Texas to view the devastation of the almost seven year drought. Ike was a very popular president and the citizens applauded his arrival. As if he had spoken directly to God, it began to rain. And rain it did until floods wiped out homes, highways, bridges and lord knows what else. The Swartch family lost their house to the flooded Concho