While the Locust Slept by Peter Razor

Author:Peter Razor
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-87351-707-2
Publisher: Minnesota Historical Society Press
Published: 2009-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

I only got haircuts during school noon-hour at Houston High, so my hair grew thick and long over summer. It was the same at Caledonia. Emma seldom concerned herself with my appearance unless it served another purpose. Summer was almost gone. John prepared to get feed in town, which meant—most certainly—that he would tie one on.

“Take Peter so he gets his hair cut,” Emma said. “I haint going to have folks say he lives here, lookin’ like that.”

It puzzled me then why Emma suddenly noticed my hair, but I now know that she wanted me along so John would have to come home for chores.

“He’s to works when I’s in town,” John began, then looked at my hair and relented. “You to help me with feed in town.” I turned toward the house to get my school clothes. “You wear those clothes,” John said. He motioned me to the passenger side as he settled into the driver’s seat. Having no pickup, John hauled everything in the back seat of the 1934 Ford, or had it delivered. After I helped John at the feed mill, he dropped me off at the barbershop. “Come to Shanty Bar when you hair done,” John said, pointing.

Finished with my trimming, I walked to the Shanty Bar. I saw John leaning over the bar, his back to the entrance. I slid against the wall near the door and looked around, waiting. Two men occupied stools at the bar, and a man and woman sat at a table. They were all either older than John or smaller.

John looked over his shoulder at me and his eyes flashed. I stiffened nervously as he tilted his head back and glared slowly around at the other patrons. “I can lick anyone in des house!” he called out.

I thought I was about to be caught in the crossfire of a bar fight, but one man just squinted at John, then calmly sipped his beer as though John weren’t there. No one else paid him any attention. I relaxed when no one accepted his challenge, but John was clearly pleased. He hoisted his glass with overdone flourishes and drank with his head cocked back, his nose high like royalty.

Days before school started, John came home with his hat pulled low. He said nothing during chores. While washing equipment after milking, John’s cap brushed back revealing a badly bruised face with one eye half closed and purple. I remained stone-faced and was careful to avoid him until bedtime, but I was secretly glad to know that someone had put him in his place.

He drank more after that night, and he was agitated all the time. Emma’s tension increased, and she became openly nervous. Monday after breakfast, I boarded the school bus to begin my junior year. There were no comments, good or bad, from the Schaulses, but I felt cold eyes follow me to the bus.

John said little against school the first week, but an eerie tension permeated the house at supper, Friday, the second week of school.

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