A Room of My Own by Tatlock Ann

Author:Tatlock, Ann [Tatlock, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Hoover, Great Depression, health care, medicare, medicine, physcians, Obama
ISBN: 9780982206584
Publisher: Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
Published: 2011-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

The boy who'd had his tooth pulled was the younger son of Alice Hunt. As we approached their shanty, we spotted Mrs. Hunt and one of her daughters sitting directly on the ground just outside the door. I hadn't seen Mrs. Hunt's eldest daughter before. The two of them sat cross-legged in the dirt with white enamel bowls cradled in their laps, the hems of their dresses tucked down around their knees. Mrs. Hunt was wearing the same gray cotton dress she had on the first time I saw her, and the scuffed tips of a pair of leather shoes stuck out from beneath either side of her wide lap. Her daughter, a thin girl with limp blond hair, wore a sleeveless pale blue dress. She was barefoot and it was the tips of her toes that poked out from beneath her slender thighs. A third and larger bowl sat on the ground between them into which they repeatedly dipped a hand and pulled something out. When we got closer I could see they were shelling peas. I could also better view the daughter's face. Her skin was mottled, perhaps by the heat, and her face was almost too thin, but she was pretty in a raw sort of way. Could she have gone to Charlotte's house and taken advantage of the boxes of cosmetics and jewelry, she would no doubt have been quite pretty. A little mascara to perk up the doleful eyes, a little rouge to highlight the cheekbones, a swish of lipstick to color the lips, a few rag curlers to add some waves to the hair. She certainly had potential. But here in Soo City she was colorless and forlorn, like the camp itself, and a person had to be content to imagine her beauty.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hunt, Lela," Papa said as we reached them.

"Well, howdy, Doc Eide," Mrs. Hunt replied.

The girl glanced up and offered Papa a brief smile. Then, the smile gone, her eyes came to rest on me while her mother continued.

"You caught us fixing supper. Got a treat for tonight. Stan came home last night with a couple pounds of fresh peas he picked up for running some errands for the grocer down at the IGA. He's there now, hoping to exchange a few hours' work for some meat or maybe a few eggs. That grocer--he's a good man. Some of us around here would be a lot more hungry if it weren't for that man's generosity."

Papa nodded. "Sam Gallagher's a fine fellow. My wife's been a customer of his for years, and he's always treated us fair."

"More than fair, I'd say, when it comes to his dealings with Stan and some of the other men out of work. Stan says he's seen Mr. Gallagher put aside vegetables and bread and all sorts of food soon as it comes into the store, and then when the unemployed come around hoping for scraps, Mr. Gallagher gives them this nice fresh food saying it's leftovers and too old to sell.

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