Nothing to Fear by Jackie French Koller

Author:Jackie French Koller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

Wednesday, November 9, 1932

The radio woke me up this morning. Mama had turned it way up. "Happy days are here again!" it blared.

"Roosevelt won!" Mama shouted as I staggered out to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "It was a landslide!"

When I went down on the street with my shoeshine kit, everyone was in high spirits. In less than an hour, I made almost fifty cents. Folks seem to suddenly have a good feeling about themselves again.

In school we talked about Mr. Roosevelt's "New Deal" and what it could mean for the country. For the first time, the U.S. government is going to fund relief programs, instead of leaving it up to the states and cities. New public works and conservation programs will be started to put people back to work. There will be national unemployment insurance, and farmers will be subsidized so that they can reduce their production and prices will stabilize.

I don't really understand what it all means, but Mr. Brewster, our social studies teacher, said it means help for the hungry and homeless, and most of all, jobs for the jobless. He warned us that it will all take time, of course—as if we didn't know. I figure that since Mr. Roosevelt isn't even gonna be inaugurated until March fourth, it will take at least until the summer before he gets the depression straightened out. That's okay though. As long as we know the end is in sight, I'm sure we can make it through the winter.

Mr. Weissman was in such a good mood when I got to the store that he gave me the afternoon off. I couldn't believe my good fortune as I headed for Mickey's building. The afternoon off! This really was turning out to be a great day. I met Mr. Moriarty, the undertaker, coming down Mickey's front stoop.

"Somebody die, Mr. Moriarty?" I asked.

"No, Danny. Just making my rounds."

Mr. Moriarty comes around several times a year and shakes everybody's hands so they will remember him "in their time of need."

"Any good wakes going on, Mr. Moriarty?"

Mr. Moriarty paused and lifted his black stovepipe hat and scratched under it with one finger.

"Well," he said, "there's Mr. Milke down on One-Hundred-First."

"Who's he?" I asked.

"Oh," said Mr. Moriarty, like he was about to tell me something very impressive. "Why, he was a taxidermist down at the Museum of Natural History."

"No kidding? What's a taxidermist?"

"A person who stuffs all the animals and birds for display."

"Wow," I said. "Even the tigers?"

Mr. Moriarty nodded. "Even the elephants."

"Wow," I said again. "What a neat job. What'd he die of?"

"Heart," said Mr. Moriarty, shaking his head sadly.

"That's too bad," I said.

"Indeed," said Mr. Moriarty, "indeed." He heaved a heavy sigh.

"Was he a friend of yours?" I asked.

"I like to think of all my customers as friends," said Mr. Moriarty. He sighed again.

I shook my head. "You sure must lose a lot of friends," I said.

Mr. Moriarty nodded sadly. "Well, good day, son," he said. "Remember me in your time of need.

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