Before the sun peaked over the horizon, Carl would be up and crossing the road with two 2-gallon buckets. He was headed for the school house across the county road where he filled each bucket with fresh well water from the hand pump. Then carry Ing both buckets full he slowly started back to hisContinue reading “Grapes of Wrath? Not here.”
Tag Archives: DustBowl
If Judy Bloom wrote for pre-teen boys.
A close shave. I grew up in Southern California with clueless Okie parents. It was the dust bowl survivors meet Ozzie and Harriette. Misfits all of us. We had no social skills much less me remembering to not burp when in the cafeteria at lunch. I would have to admit myself an early teen boyContinue reading “If Judy Bloom wrote for pre-teen boys.”
Leaving the parched farm for fertile ground.
In search of the promise. It was not an easy decision. There were those who wished they would stay. But seven souls pushed off from the motherland in search of the promise land. It was on this date in 1941 and the voyagers were determined to find a new life elsewhere. Life was a mightyContinue reading “Leaving the parched farm for fertile ground.”
Would this could this be real Haiku?
Okie Haiku Red sands of Dust it came Sending those to find Westerly Grapes of wrath
Okie poet society, a poem.
Red Dirt Poetry. By Okie beyond borders Dusty winds whistled about Through the baren leafless trees. The rusty sandpaper sky hung over the horizon like a theater backdrop As if In a John Steinbeck novel. Shuffling and searching in the foreground for whatever meager sustenance there possibly could be Were silhouettes of three searchers. Billy,Continue reading “Okie poet society, a poem.”
Immigrants not on the Mother Road.
Today in history. On Saturday March 8, 1941 they left their homeland to explore new territories with the hope for a better and prosperous life. Leaving behind a homeland ravaged by depression and drought. It was a major decision to leave family and friends in order to explore new worlds. Never the less the decisionContinue reading “Immigrants not on the Mother Road.”
They left Oklahoma this time of the year 1941.
They were third-world immigrants. Immigrants now leaving a life of hardship and primitive living behind. But not knowing what lies ahead. But anyway they are leaving a life with No running water, cooking on a wood burning stove, and a crudely built outhouse. Farming in rural southern Oklahoma was almost impossible. Farming was with anContinue reading “They left Oklahoma this time of the year 1941.”
Chuck the Blogger Guy 