Day Into Night

Day Into Night

Suzanne Marsh

“We’re gonna have to pull up stakes here, move on. Money is so tight; I don’t think we can afford any crop. Last year the corn was destroyed by the damn hot sun. The creek has just about

dried up now, we can’t irrigate the land without it.” Ma, me and my brother Jake, watched as Pa, with tears in his eyes went out the front door to begin of milkin “Bessie” the only cow that had survived the first year of what folks called the black blizzards. Times were tough back then, ole “Bessie” was the only way we could get milk on the table.

Ma walked out the front door, to what was left of her vegetable garden, few radishes, a few green beans. The corn had already tasseled out, it wasn’t no more than knee high. Ma, looked to see if any ears was developin, nothin. I’d never seen my folks so down, I understood that there was not a lot of food, but so far we had made it. Pa came back from the barn, he led “Bessie” over to where some man stood. He sold “Bessie” that day, the man gave him twelve dollars. Pa, shook the man’s hand, took the money and came back into the shack. The shack was nothin but tar paper and wood, we had a front door, with one loose window. I cried when Pa told us that “Bessie” had a good home, and we were twelve dollars richer.

Pa had already decided that we was leavin Amarillo, he had no idea where we were bound for. He wanted to find another farm where we could sharecrop. Months of wind and no rain was makin trouble fer our family. The wind blew dirt and dust into every crevice of the shack, we choked on it every day. Jake’s nose was always full of dirt every time he blew his nose, same as Pa, Ma and me. It was like we were never gonna git out of here alive, or so it seemed to me. We were gonna pack up Pa’s Model T it wasn’t worth much but it started and stopped. Pa bought in better times, when he and Ma was both workin.

Pa, watched as the wind began to blow the soil around again. It swirled into big black dunes as the wind picked up. Ma began to choke, Pa tried to settle her, but she just kept on. Pa got an old white sheet, wet it down and hung it in the door, this helped for a while. The window didn’t really hold up when the wind blew hard. Pa tried to fix it but there was nothin to hold it in place. I recall one Sunday, it was in April of 1935, the day started off with sunshine, it was warm for April. Pa was busy packin up the Model T, while I kept Jake outta the way. We were running around, havin a good time, while Ma cooked up the last of the soup, we had for the past three days. Pa was just about done with the packin when Ma called him for supper. The seemed to be getting darker further up north, this was no surprise, since the winds that blew from the north these days always were filled with soil and dirt, whatever the wind swept up.

Pa told us tomorrow we were leavin to go to Arkansas, he said there were plenty of sharecroppers up near some place called Little Rock. Learnin just was not in our cards like Ma said. Pa told Jake and me to go play outside while he and Ma talked for a bit. Grown up talk, not for our ears in other words.

Jake pulled my braids as we began to chase each other around the shack. The northern sky was getting blacker by the minute, then the wind began to pick up. Pa opened the door, saw something that scairt him bad. He made us come inside. He quickly began to block off the window and door. The began to howl like a wolf, lonesome for its mate. Pa, grabbed sheets off our beds to close off the one room we used in the shack.

Pa stood, he weren’t able to move as he watched the black cloud come closer and closer to the shack. We huddled together hopin it would pass over quick. The wind began to blow dirt through the cracks in walls of the shack, we huddled closer together. Rufus, our dog began to howl, then padded over to join us. We knew this one was gonna be bad, the wind blew harder than ever before, dirt began to fill the house. Ma began to rip up a sheet while Pa frantically pumped water onto each rag. We was gonna have to do a heap of prayin this time round.

We heard a loud bang; it sounded like a car back firing. Pa opened the door, hanging onto so the door would not blow off. The sheriff got out of his Packard, Pa motioned him in. He sat down in one of the wooden chairs Pa made out of pallets from a job he had. The sheriff weren’t happy about bein there with us but he told us the roads were impassable, when he saw our shack, he pulled in to seek cover. He told us the wind was pilin sand way high, like dunes in some place called Egypt, wherever that was.

The followin morning the sheriff left; he thanked us for keepin him safe from the black blizzard. Pa went outside with the sheriff; our Model T was layin on its side with black dirt coverin part of it. The sheriff went to his car, got a shovel, between him and Pa they dug out the Model T pushed it back on its wheels. Pa thanked the sheriff for his help.

Later that morning, we closed up the shack, boarded up the door and window. We head to Arkansas where Pa sharecropped for twenty more long years. None of us that lived in Amarillo ever forgot the time day became night.