Oliver Twist
1. The living conditions were horrible, they were almost always starving, they could almost never talk to one another, they worked really long hours stayed up late, got up early, they ate horrible food it was really disgusting and mushy.
2. I would have hated living in this time period, I like my freedom to be a child when I am a child, and not going from child to adult in one day, I like to be a teenager.
3. He has a horrible life compared to mine, yeah I complain about doing chores and what not but if I had to sew every day for like 12 hours I would be complaining a lot more, but I have a wonderful life compared to Oliver Twist.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
1. Which job is shown in the picture that I have chosen?
The job that is shown in my the picture that I have chosen is a man and a boy sweeping the cotton off the floor.
2. What was the daily work schedule in this job that they had to
Follow?
They had to be at the mill at about 6:00am to 12:00 then a one hour break and from 1:00 to 6:00 it also depended where you where working.
3. Were their any penalties for not meeting expectations on the job site?
The penalties where most likely a severe beating, and absolutely no pay for the week.
4. What were the physical challenges of work at the mill?
The physical challenges where likely to be the long hours, 12 hours get up very early and stay up quite late, they were probably physically drained and mentally drained.
5. Was this job dangerous? How?
This job was very dangerous, you could get seriously hurt, you could get your fingers cut off. The other danger was that from all the lint floating around it could get packed in your lungs, that would not be good for your health.
6. Do you think it was fair for the children to work in this time period?
No I do not think this is right, children deserve to have a teen hood, they do not deserve to go from child to adult in one day. They should have the luxuries we have now, like watching T.V, hanging out with friends, learning lessons, staying up late.
7. In what country do children work today? Find a picture of the child labour and post it on your blog.
The horrible countries that still make children work are in the far east. Like India, China and a some others.
The job that is shown in my the picture that I have chosen is a man and a boy sweeping the cotton off the floor.
2. What was the daily work schedule in this job that they had to
Follow?
They had to be at the mill at about 6:00am to 12:00 then a one hour break and from 1:00 to 6:00 it also depended where you where working.
3. Were their any penalties for not meeting expectations on the job site?
The penalties where most likely a severe beating, and absolutely no pay for the week.
4. What were the physical challenges of work at the mill?
The physical challenges where likely to be the long hours, 12 hours get up very early and stay up quite late, they were probably physically drained and mentally drained.
5. Was this job dangerous? How?
This job was very dangerous, you could get seriously hurt, you could get your fingers cut off. The other danger was that from all the lint floating around it could get packed in your lungs, that would not be good for your health.
6. Do you think it was fair for the children to work in this time period?
No I do not think this is right, children deserve to have a teen hood, they do not deserve to go from child to adult in one day. They should have the luxuries we have now, like watching T.V, hanging out with friends, learning lessons, staying up late.
7. In what country do children work today? Find a picture of the child labour and post it on your blog.
The horrible countries that still make children work are in the far east. Like India, China and a some others.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Inventions
My invention is the Popsicle, it was invented in 1905 be a eleven year old boy named Frank Epperson. He had originally called it the Epsicle. He had left his fruit flavoured drink outside in the cold with a stick in it. The drink froze to the stick and tasted good. In 1923 for a patent “ice on a stick” called the Epsicle Ice Pop, which children renamed the “Popsicle.”
In 1925, Frank Epperson sold his famous Popsicle to the Joe Lowe Company of New York. Good Humour now owns the rights to the Popsicle.
Random Facts!
Twin Popsicles (two popsicles sticks together) were invented during the Great Depression.
Popsicle sticks were first made from Birch wood.
Popsicles in the future.
Popsicles in the future will be very nutritious, they will not melt unless you need or want them too, they will have amazing flavours.
The working conditions to make a popsicle are most likely not all that good. Probably low pay, dangerous, cold (to keep the popsicles frozen), lots of workers.
Recipe for Popsicles :
Chocolate Oreo Pudding Pops
Ingredients:
• Chocolate Pudding 3.4 oz box
• 2 cups of Milk
• 6 Oreo’s
• 1/2 cup of cool whip
• 8-10 Popsicle sticks
• 8-10 Dixie Cups
Directions:
Combine 2 cups of milk and Chocolate pudding mix in a medium size bowl. Mix for Approx. 2 minutes. Add Cool Whip and crushed Oreo Cookies. Blend Well! Fill Dixie Cup to desired amount. Insert popsicle sticks into pudding mixture. They will stand on there own. Continue adding the popsicle sticks to remaining filled cups. Freeze for 5 hours. Peel off Dixie paper cups & enjoy!
Journal Entry 3
Arlene
But like the tortoise, I shall win. – Arlene page 29
As soon as the whistle blows, some folks will stream from the mill to their houses to get their dinner pails – fro some of the houses are empty all day, with everyone at work. I suppose their dinners are cold, sorry things with nobody to cook for them. The whistle sounds, there is confusion I keep my eye peeled for Daddy and Josh. Josh has been sent up to carding, he puffs out his chest thinking he is important. When he came home with a torn sleeve he wore it like a medal. He had come close to the rumbling pulleys, he had dared them like in a game Snake in the gutter, eating bread and butter. Daddy finds me first. He already has his daily quota of lint in his hair, on his shirt. Covering him like snowflakes. They open their pails and smile at me and see two biscuits hot and buttered. Mama is easier to find, she and Mrs. Ethel are already sitting in their room off the spinning room where the women sit and eat. She smiles as her takes her pail corners of her eyes creasing. Once I have gave Pauline her pail I have a memory surface in my brain. She was mocking me on the playground at recess, even the teacher smiled. She was dragging her foot behind her everyone was laughing. P – is for perfect – Pauline. A – is for awkward – Arlene. I think of Pauline her dinner brought to her eating out in the sun. Arlene, Arlene?. I thought the voice was in my head. I turn and see Miss Bertha a granny old woman, she calls when someone is sick. She calls to me. Its Frances. She sent word. I’ll need your help. Her face reminds me of a shrivelled apple. It’s her time. She says. As we walk in Harrell’s house it is just like ours. But different. Ill stalk up the fire. Mrs. Harrell’s neck and face glisten with perspiration her face is screwed up. I see Miss Bertha take out a knife, she slips it under the bed. To cut the pain. She says. I did not take Ropy his dinner. Says Mrs. Harrell. I’m sure he can live without dinner for one day. Miss bertha says taking a hair brush and starting to braid Mrs. Harrell’s hair. I hear Mrs. Harrell screaming. I go in search of Percy, he is not sleeping he is crouching beside his bed. Percy. I say he take steps away from me. Ma – ma. He whispers. Your Mamas fine you are just going to have a little brother or sister soon. I hear Mrs. Harrell again, Percy looks at the door with a quivering lip. I decide on cornbread. But before I get a chance to make it, Miss Bertha comes to the door. Come quick! I need your help. She says. It is time. I need you to put your hand on her belly and when I tell her to push, bear down on her. Mrs. Harrell is whimpering. Push , dearie. Push hard. Miss Bertha says to her. Miss Bertha peers between Mrs. Harrell’s legs. Just a little bit more. Just a bit more. Just a bit. Miss bertha was whispering. Frances don’t fight me on this, there is still work to be done, you can rest later. She grabs a hand full of snuff and walks over to Mrs. Harrell with it. Be ready to bear down. She tells be. Miss Bertha rubs it in her nose and, KER – CHOO! KER – CHOO! KER – CHOO ! Mrs. Harrell sneezes, but I push down anyway. That’s it! that’s it! It’s a boy!. Although the baby is here already I have to still do lots of work. The after birth comes easy. I hear Miss Bertha say to Mrs. Harrell. After I am sent home Pauline tells be I have a sweeping job at the mill, Jimmy has got his thumb snatched by the spinner. This sweeping job is not all that bad. I feel guilty. But I continue to sweep, I see a little grey spider in the windowsill and see it perching itself proudly on its web. On Saturday well we are walking to the store I hear my money clinking in my pocket, what shall it be peppermints or horehound? Johnnycakes or butterscotch? I choose peppermints. Pauline wants jacks but she only has twenty – seven cents. We shall have the jacks I hand her my money and we share the jacks.
Arlene
But like the tortoise, I shall win. – Arlene page 29
As soon as the whistle blows, some folks will stream from the mill to their houses to get their dinner pails – fro some of the houses are empty all day, with everyone at work. I suppose their dinners are cold, sorry things with nobody to cook for them. The whistle sounds, there is confusion I keep my eye peeled for Daddy and Josh. Josh has been sent up to carding, he puffs out his chest thinking he is important. When he came home with a torn sleeve he wore it like a medal. He had come close to the rumbling pulleys, he had dared them like in a game Snake in the gutter, eating bread and butter. Daddy finds me first. He already has his daily quota of lint in his hair, on his shirt. Covering him like snowflakes. They open their pails and smile at me and see two biscuits hot and buttered. Mama is easier to find, she and Mrs. Ethel are already sitting in their room off the spinning room where the women sit and eat. She smiles as her takes her pail corners of her eyes creasing. Once I have gave Pauline her pail I have a memory surface in my brain. She was mocking me on the playground at recess, even the teacher smiled. She was dragging her foot behind her everyone was laughing. P – is for perfect – Pauline. A – is for awkward – Arlene. I think of Pauline her dinner brought to her eating out in the sun. Arlene, Arlene?. I thought the voice was in my head. I turn and see Miss Bertha a granny old woman, she calls when someone is sick. She calls to me. Its Frances. She sent word. I’ll need your help. Her face reminds me of a shrivelled apple. It’s her time. She says. As we walk in Harrell’s house it is just like ours. But different. Ill stalk up the fire. Mrs. Harrell’s neck and face glisten with perspiration her face is screwed up. I see Miss Bertha take out a knife, she slips it under the bed. To cut the pain. She says. I did not take Ropy his dinner. Says Mrs. Harrell. I’m sure he can live without dinner for one day. Miss bertha says taking a hair brush and starting to braid Mrs. Harrell’s hair. I hear Mrs. Harrell screaming. I go in search of Percy, he is not sleeping he is crouching beside his bed. Percy. I say he take steps away from me. Ma – ma. He whispers. Your Mamas fine you are just going to have a little brother or sister soon. I hear Mrs. Harrell again, Percy looks at the door with a quivering lip. I decide on cornbread. But before I get a chance to make it, Miss Bertha comes to the door. Come quick! I need your help. She says. It is time. I need you to put your hand on her belly and when I tell her to push, bear down on her. Mrs. Harrell is whimpering. Push , dearie. Push hard. Miss Bertha says to her. Miss Bertha peers between Mrs. Harrell’s legs. Just a little bit more. Just a bit more. Just a bit. Miss bertha was whispering. Frances don’t fight me on this, there is still work to be done, you can rest later. She grabs a hand full of snuff and walks over to Mrs. Harrell with it. Be ready to bear down. She tells be. Miss Bertha rubs it in her nose and, KER – CHOO! KER – CHOO! KER – CHOO ! Mrs. Harrell sneezes, but I push down anyway. That’s it! that’s it! It’s a boy!. Although the baby is here already I have to still do lots of work. The after birth comes easy. I hear Miss Bertha say to Mrs. Harrell. After I am sent home Pauline tells be I have a sweeping job at the mill, Jimmy has got his thumb snatched by the spinner. This sweeping job is not all that bad. I feel guilty. But I continue to sweep, I see a little grey spider in the windowsill and see it perching itself proudly on its web. On Saturday well we are walking to the store I hear my money clinking in my pocket, what shall it be peppermints or horehound? Johnnycakes or butterscotch? I choose peppermints. Pauline wants jacks but she only has twenty – seven cents. We shall have the jacks I hand her my money and we share the jacks.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Diary Entry 2
Pauline
“Are you sleeping now, lazy sister?” – Pauline page 46Carrie works the three machines just down from me. She ties up her long dark hair. At sixteen she is sweet on George, who works with Daddy and Josh in the carding room. George rushes over at dinnertime with his pail, and he and Carrie sit outside, apart from us. Sometimes I see George feeding Carrie a spoonful of pie. Carrie says they will get a four- room house someday and take in a boarder. That way they are still able to pay the rent the mill charges for the houses. They would love to get married but their parents say they are too young still. George is two years Joshes senior and I can not imagine Josh with a wife. A scream rings out close by. I feel a rush of air by my face and a thud on my foot. When I look down, Jimmy has crumpled on top of my leg, all his weight on my foot. I don’t want to kick him off, so I desperately try to push him off. I look at him, his eyes are closed, he is white as a bed sheet, and his mouth twists to one side as if the screams have fled, leaving him empty. I shout to be heard over the noise “Jimmy, get up your on my foot! Your hurting me!” I scream out. I try to push him again he is too heavy to move. I am furious that he does not move off my foot he does not even open his eyes. My foot starts to ache under his weight. You are not going to cry, don’t cry, I tell myself. He reaches up to cradle his hand, I see why he is on the floor. While I stare at his hand I notice there is something missing. His thumb it is reduced to a white bone, glaring at me through the dark sky. A spasm erupts in my chest. My mouth goes bone dry, I feel the cabbage from dinner coming back up. I force myself to swallow hard. I scream as loud as I can. “MR. GODBOLD! MR. GODBOLD! THE SPINNER HAS TAKEN JIMMY’S THUMB, COME QUICK!!!!!!!!! Blood runs down onto the dirty floor, soaking his blue sleeve and turning it red. I shout again at the top of my lungs. “MR. GODBOLD!” I am screaming so loud that I feel my lungs empty and I gasp for air, the air is stale and full of cotton. One of the sweeping boys turns and looks at me. He starts forward then his eyes land on Jimmy and the blood oozing out of his thumb should be. He froze. “Edwin don’t just stand there, get someone!” I shout at him. I try to move Jimmy with my foot but he is too heavy. I should bend down and move him with my hands, but I can not bring myself to touch him but a fear of touching the blood over comes me. I feel like the only real person in this room Jimmy and Edwin have turned to stone. “Mr. Godbold!” I scream my throat growing hoarse. I take a step forward with my good foot and slap Edwin hard. The blow connects with his hard little shoulder and stings my hand. Edwin continues to gaze at me as though he had got his thumb stolen from the spinner, he folded his thumb in that he sucks on and raped his finders around it. Edwin dashes off along the row. I stand there frozen, scared, the pain in my foot increasing steadily. It is Mr. Godbold that comes and soon two other men come and take Jimmy away. “ I can take over Jimmy’s job!” exclaims Edwin. “Did Mr. Godbold say?” I ask. “No.” he replies quickly. But before I can do anything he has whipped off his shoes and started to climb for the bobbins. It is almost dark and the ice particles are whirling around me making me shiver. Mama jostles my arm as we fall into step, but I am limping. “Pauline?” asked Mama. I try as hard as I can to make my steps even. My foot wants to stop this far from home, I will not let it. “Pauline is that you?” either Margaret and Katie had said as they skip by their arms linked. Daddy and Josh join us and pull ahead of us. As our house comes into sight I notice that there is no smoke from the chimney. Oh Arlene is going to be in trouble now, there is also no light on in the stove room. “ She must be sick.” Says Mama. Daddy and Josh have bounded up the stairs to the house Mama follows them and I follow Mama she is calling “Arlene! Arlene?” She is not home. Mama says I have to do the ironing. Why can’t my lazy sister do it? This is not my job I work and I do not do the laundry this is horrible, and of course we have to wait until Arlene comes home to have dinner, I think we should eat then when she get home she can go strait to bed . Mama is making dinner and the smell is making my mouth water. As I hobble into Mama and Daddy’s room I see Daddy lying on the bed his arm lying gently on his face. He may be sleeping I do not want to wake him. I lye his overalls on his bed and wonder just for a moment if he were awake would he thank me for ironing his clothes “ Thank – you so much Pauline for going to work all day and then come home and iron my clothes.” I think. I think not he would not say that to me, I am not his precious Arlene. Arlene is home and Mama makes me move for her so she can sit my the fire. She says that Mrs. Harrell had her baby and she was called away to help, she had another boy. “Ethel says Carrie and George ran away to get married but they came back because it was too windy and icy. But even if they had to wait ‘till spring they would find a way.” Says Arlene. “ We found a way.” Mama said looking fondle at Daddy. “Yes, we did.” Smiling back at her then looking at us for a second. “I’ll bank the fire when I go to bed.” Daddy says. This is the time to say what I need to say. “Arlene has to go to the mill tomorrow. “ I says aloud. Mama frowns “To work’? What do you mean?” Oh yes, your precious Arlene how do you like that? “Yes she must go to the mill.” Daddy looked puzzled. Yes! I have their attention. Mama’s forehead stays wrinkled. “But, why?” “ Mr. Godbold says. “But she can’t look at her foot.” Daddy says still puzzled. “They have the spinner covered but they need someone to sweep.” When we get to the mill Arlene starts to sweep and I start with the bobbins, I would like to play a game of jacks but I have to work. When it is dinner I am foolish and give my dinner to Katie and Margaret, Arlene looks at me and I wonder why she does, she knows I am a fool. But to my surprise she scores her biscuit in half and give a half to me. It is finally Saturday! As I pull on my sock and I see that where there was a purple line but it is now a sickly yellow. Arlene thumps around on the bed as she smoothes the linen on the bed. I answer her by thumping on the floor with my shoe. We laugh. “Mr. Godbold says Jimmy will be back on Monday.” Daddy says. “So soon?” Mama frowns “When I went over there he was complaining that his thumb was hurting him.” Mama says ladling out grits. Why would his thumb hurt him now for it is not there. “He will get used to it, for he is young.” He says closing his three fingers over the nubs. If Jimmy goes back to work, and my foot is well, all will be back to normal. We will have hot dinner ready for us and clean clothes when we come home. Arlene will see to that. I call for my hate. It does not answer me. I should like it close by if I need it, but this morning it has left me alone, I cannot remember where it is. I see that there is still crumbs in the baking tin. I slide my finger along them and then I see Arlene has spotted me. She does the same. “Get the other pan.” I say “This is mine.” I pop my finger in my mouth. Mama tries to take the pan but I grasp it. “No, Mama don’t wash it yet, please.” I tighten my grip on the warm tin. Mama laughs. “You two! Don’t get lost here and the Harrells’. If you do, I’ll now what happened to my cakes. When we leave the Harrells we see Jimmy he is attempting to chop wood with his left hand.” Hello, Jimmy.” I say. “Pauline who is who?” I step forward. His eyes light up when he sees the cake. “I’m trying to learn the other hand, I ain’t good at it yet.” He shrugs “They tell me I hurt your foot.” I remember the old shoe and look down. “It’s all right, It’s better now.” As we head to the store, a thought occurs to me: I have twenty- seven cents. I could get jackstones, put the rest on the books for next payday. Yes, I shall have my jacks. Today I shall have them. Money clinks in my pocket .I shall have them.
“Are you sleeping now, lazy sister?” – Pauline page 46Carrie works the three machines just down from me. She ties up her long dark hair. At sixteen she is sweet on George, who works with Daddy and Josh in the carding room. George rushes over at dinnertime with his pail, and he and Carrie sit outside, apart from us. Sometimes I see George feeding Carrie a spoonful of pie. Carrie says they will get a four- room house someday and take in a boarder. That way they are still able to pay the rent the mill charges for the houses. They would love to get married but their parents say they are too young still. George is two years Joshes senior and I can not imagine Josh with a wife. A scream rings out close by. I feel a rush of air by my face and a thud on my foot. When I look down, Jimmy has crumpled on top of my leg, all his weight on my foot. I don’t want to kick him off, so I desperately try to push him off. I look at him, his eyes are closed, he is white as a bed sheet, and his mouth twists to one side as if the screams have fled, leaving him empty. I shout to be heard over the noise “Jimmy, get up your on my foot! Your hurting me!” I scream out. I try to push him again he is too heavy to move. I am furious that he does not move off my foot he does not even open his eyes. My foot starts to ache under his weight. You are not going to cry, don’t cry, I tell myself. He reaches up to cradle his hand, I see why he is on the floor. While I stare at his hand I notice there is something missing. His thumb it is reduced to a white bone, glaring at me through the dark sky. A spasm erupts in my chest. My mouth goes bone dry, I feel the cabbage from dinner coming back up. I force myself to swallow hard. I scream as loud as I can. “MR. GODBOLD! MR. GODBOLD! THE SPINNER HAS TAKEN JIMMY’S THUMB, COME QUICK!!!!!!!!! Blood runs down onto the dirty floor, soaking his blue sleeve and turning it red. I shout again at the top of my lungs. “MR. GODBOLD!” I am screaming so loud that I feel my lungs empty and I gasp for air, the air is stale and full of cotton. One of the sweeping boys turns and looks at me. He starts forward then his eyes land on Jimmy and the blood oozing out of his thumb should be. He froze. “Edwin don’t just stand there, get someone!” I shout at him. I try to move Jimmy with my foot but he is too heavy. I should bend down and move him with my hands, but I can not bring myself to touch him but a fear of touching the blood over comes me. I feel like the only real person in this room Jimmy and Edwin have turned to stone. “Mr. Godbold!” I scream my throat growing hoarse. I take a step forward with my good foot and slap Edwin hard. The blow connects with his hard little shoulder and stings my hand. Edwin continues to gaze at me as though he had got his thumb stolen from the spinner, he folded his thumb in that he sucks on and raped his finders around it. Edwin dashes off along the row. I stand there frozen, scared, the pain in my foot increasing steadily. It is Mr. Godbold that comes and soon two other men come and take Jimmy away. “ I can take over Jimmy’s job!” exclaims Edwin. “Did Mr. Godbold say?” I ask. “No.” he replies quickly. But before I can do anything he has whipped off his shoes and started to climb for the bobbins. It is almost dark and the ice particles are whirling around me making me shiver. Mama jostles my arm as we fall into step, but I am limping. “Pauline?” asked Mama. I try as hard as I can to make my steps even. My foot wants to stop this far from home, I will not let it. “Pauline is that you?” either Margaret and Katie had said as they skip by their arms linked. Daddy and Josh join us and pull ahead of us. As our house comes into sight I notice that there is no smoke from the chimney. Oh Arlene is going to be in trouble now, there is also no light on in the stove room. “ She must be sick.” Says Mama. Daddy and Josh have bounded up the stairs to the house Mama follows them and I follow Mama she is calling “Arlene! Arlene?” She is not home. Mama says I have to do the ironing. Why can’t my lazy sister do it? This is not my job I work and I do not do the laundry this is horrible, and of course we have to wait until Arlene comes home to have dinner, I think we should eat then when she get home she can go strait to bed . Mama is making dinner and the smell is making my mouth water. As I hobble into Mama and Daddy’s room I see Daddy lying on the bed his arm lying gently on his face. He may be sleeping I do not want to wake him. I lye his overalls on his bed and wonder just for a moment if he were awake would he thank me for ironing his clothes “ Thank – you so much Pauline for going to work all day and then come home and iron my clothes.” I think. I think not he would not say that to me, I am not his precious Arlene. Arlene is home and Mama makes me move for her so she can sit my the fire. She says that Mrs. Harrell had her baby and she was called away to help, she had another boy. “Ethel says Carrie and George ran away to get married but they came back because it was too windy and icy. But even if they had to wait ‘till spring they would find a way.” Says Arlene. “ We found a way.” Mama said looking fondle at Daddy. “Yes, we did.” Smiling back at her then looking at us for a second. “I’ll bank the fire when I go to bed.” Daddy says. This is the time to say what I need to say. “Arlene has to go to the mill tomorrow. “ I says aloud. Mama frowns “To work’? What do you mean?” Oh yes, your precious Arlene how do you like that? “Yes she must go to the mill.” Daddy looked puzzled. Yes! I have their attention. Mama’s forehead stays wrinkled. “But, why?” “ Mr. Godbold says. “But she can’t look at her foot.” Daddy says still puzzled. “They have the spinner covered but they need someone to sweep.” When we get to the mill Arlene starts to sweep and I start with the bobbins, I would like to play a game of jacks but I have to work. When it is dinner I am foolish and give my dinner to Katie and Margaret, Arlene looks at me and I wonder why she does, she knows I am a fool. But to my surprise she scores her biscuit in half and give a half to me. It is finally Saturday! As I pull on my sock and I see that where there was a purple line but it is now a sickly yellow. Arlene thumps around on the bed as she smoothes the linen on the bed. I answer her by thumping on the floor with my shoe. We laugh. “Mr. Godbold says Jimmy will be back on Monday.” Daddy says. “So soon?” Mama frowns “When I went over there he was complaining that his thumb was hurting him.” Mama says ladling out grits. Why would his thumb hurt him now for it is not there. “He will get used to it, for he is young.” He says closing his three fingers over the nubs. If Jimmy goes back to work, and my foot is well, all will be back to normal. We will have hot dinner ready for us and clean clothes when we come home. Arlene will see to that. I call for my hate. It does not answer me. I should like it close by if I need it, but this morning it has left me alone, I cannot remember where it is. I see that there is still crumbs in the baking tin. I slide my finger along them and then I see Arlene has spotted me. She does the same. “Get the other pan.” I say “This is mine.” I pop my finger in my mouth. Mama tries to take the pan but I grasp it. “No, Mama don’t wash it yet, please.” I tighten my grip on the warm tin. Mama laughs. “You two! Don’t get lost here and the Harrells’. If you do, I’ll now what happened to my cakes. When we leave the Harrells we see Jimmy he is attempting to chop wood with his left hand.” Hello, Jimmy.” I say. “Pauline who is who?” I step forward. His eyes light up when he sees the cake. “I’m trying to learn the other hand, I ain’t good at it yet.” He shrugs “They tell me I hurt your foot.” I remember the old shoe and look down. “It’s all right, It’s better now.” As we head to the store, a thought occurs to me: I have twenty- seven cents. I could get jackstones, put the rest on the books for next payday. Yes, I shall have my jacks. Today I shall have them. Money clinks in my pocket .I shall have them.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Diary Entry One
Journal Entry 1
Pauline
“I am full of hate, and that, I know is wicked.” Pauline page 1.
It is cold as I pull the blankets off and place my feet on the cold floor, I pull off my nightgown as quickly as I can for it is making me shiver, I slip in to m undershirt and drawers , then my dress. I don’t put on my shoes for it would take to long and I don’t want to wait in line for the outhouse. I look at my sister Arlene she looks quite warm and her hands are curled in the pillow like sleeping birds. I go out to the outhouse and the cold is nipping at me. When I return to the stove room it is warm and I welcome it gratefully and line up behind Daddy waiting to wash – up. I smell the bacon cooking, and realise that I am starving. While I curl my toes some of the feeling I had lost is finally coming back. My daddy is missing two fingers on right hand Mama frowns at him because water drips from his through his fingers and sloshes on the floor. Mama leaves the bacon on the stove for a moment to hand Daddy a towel. I have no idea what time my Mama gets up but I know she has time to get dressed heat up the stove when she calls me in the morning. She must get up quite early. By the time Josh has washed up Mama has put the plates with grits and a curl of Bacon on the table and hands around biscuits. I push mine in my grits and it warms up as if it was made fresh. Daddy says grace. We start eating, Daddy and Josh are making snuffling noises while they shovel the grits into there mouth, Josh is much to impatience to use a fork while eating grits so he uses a tablespoon. Mama stares down at her plate before she eats then lets out a long low breath and begins to eat. I burn my tongue with my haste to eat, my body fills with heat. I have barely time to swallow my last mouthful when we all rise from the table “ Good-bye, Arlene. We are going now. “calls Mama into our bedroom. How could she hear? She is sleeping. Yes, we are leaving now. The dark still lurks over the mill, but we’re going out into the blackness while you, the favoured one, sleep, with a quit that brings warmth to you body. You get to sleep as long as you like. The softness of your bed, while the shape that was once filled with my presence grows cold. I have never bothered counting the steps to the mill but it is different everyday. Today the cold nips me through my sweater and swirls around my legs as I try to keep up with Mama. Josh and Daddy push way ahead with their long strides. Margaret and Katie pass in the dark. Their best friends, eleven like me, and Katie has her younger brother jimmy by the hand He stumbles along still partially asleep. They most likely do not see me. Maybe if there was only one of them, Katie or Margaret. With one I may have a best friend but, but as it is , that spot was already taken. For I am walking to the mill, I have left my hate behind in my warm bed with my sister. Arlene will wake when she wants and find her breakfast on the back of the stove. All she has to do before she starts to cook is make the beds and wash the dishes. By the time she brings us our dinner pales the sun will have risen to make a watery path to the top of the sky, and I will have tied more threads then I can count.
Arlene Journal Entry 1
“I am full of hate, and that I know is wicked.” –Arlene page 7. When my mother wakes Pauline, it already bubbles in my throat , ready to overflow. “Get up, Pauline. It’s time.” May mother says. The whistle blows like an owl hooting before he goes to bed. To- whoo, to-whoo. Trailing off as he flies through the woods. I cannot fly. Pauline cannot fly. In that we are the same. Like our mouths, and eyes like the jut of our chins. Like the part of our hair. Everything about us is the same. Only not. But now a bumping noise sounds through out the house, and I know what each one means. I hear Daddy’s heavy boots clunk and Josh’s quicker thuds, and the pots on the stove clink together. The sound connects me with their moning. The house grows quiet again. I can imagine every one around the table eating breakfast in the lamplight, can smell the salty bacon. I hear every one get up from the table and their shoes are shuffling on the floor of the stove room. I hear Mama come into my and Pauline’s room “Good- bye, Arlene. We are going now.” She says. Pauline says nothing she is glad to get out of the house to go to the mill with Katie and Margaret. She will laugh and talk all day while I am here alone and cooking and cleaning for the day. I get up and hobble through the warm stove room and out the back door. I try and move fast but the monster foot is dragging me down. The cold rushes under my night dress and I shiver, but I cannot afford to feel it. I must hurry. Relived I finally open the creaking door and I sit. Only a little pee has dribbled down my leg. I am alone I know but I dress before breakfast . I put on my shoes on my right foot a shoe like Pauline wears and on my monster foot it is a shoe Josh has out grown. Before we were born when did it happen? When did it become my foot and not hers? Did she wrest a good one from me in exchange for the one I have? I should like to ask her if she remembers. Or was it when my mother named us? This is Pauline the perfect one, and this is Arlene because of her monster foot. The grits are very stiff, the bacon warm and limp. I eat the grits right out of the pot on the back of the stove, a biscuit stuffed to one side. A little coffee remains strong and bitter and full of grounds. But I drink it out of Daddy’s cup before I begin to wash up. The chickens look at me with suspicion as I scrape the remainder of the grits onto the ground in front of them. One pecks at the shoe on my good foot before she ambles over and starts to peck at the congealed white mess. Four rooms make up our house. Three bedrooms and one stove room, in which we all eat and socialize in. The house will soon be filled with lint, I think if I did not stay watchful. I reach under our bed with the broom. Behind the slop jar. Behind Josh’s other old shoe. Come out! You can not hide under there! No one invite the lint in. It rides unbidden from the mill on their clothes like beggar lice catch a ride from the field. Every one shakes it off or combs it off, it gathers in piles under beds, on the top of Mama’s dresser, and in corners, where it tries to hide itself. When I came closer the lint lifts as if it can fly, but it settles again, agreeing to ride the broom straws. Once I have done the dishes and put them away, I have used all the water so I take out the water pale and take it to the front pump. The handle is freezing in my palm it makes tingles go down my spine. The cold makes the pump slow. The sun has begun it’s slow climb. Water sloshes over the side of the side of the pale, the handle of the pale is digging sharply into my hand. While I am waiting for the water to heat up, I go and get some wood from out side and while it is in my arms it is rough and prickly. They smell of turpentine. I hit the door with the back of my right heel and it stings. Josh spend all day splitting wood on Saturday, the ringing of the axe as it thudded against the wood sending splinters flying. I retrieve them and set them by the fire, they are great fire starters. The wash bored bangs against the sink. I scrub, my nostrils burn with the odour of strong soap. My knuckles sting when I miss the cloth and scrap my hand on the wash bored. Overalls are the hardest. So I put them off till last. I will wrestle you. I will scrub you with no mercy. Then I will wring you dry and hang you on the line in the cold repent . I will wrestle you , and I will win.
Pauline
“I am full of hate, and that, I know is wicked.” Pauline page 1.
It is cold as I pull the blankets off and place my feet on the cold floor, I pull off my nightgown as quickly as I can for it is making me shiver, I slip in to m undershirt and drawers , then my dress. I don’t put on my shoes for it would take to long and I don’t want to wait in line for the outhouse. I look at my sister Arlene she looks quite warm and her hands are curled in the pillow like sleeping birds. I go out to the outhouse and the cold is nipping at me. When I return to the stove room it is warm and I welcome it gratefully and line up behind Daddy waiting to wash – up. I smell the bacon cooking, and realise that I am starving. While I curl my toes some of the feeling I had lost is finally coming back. My daddy is missing two fingers on right hand Mama frowns at him because water drips from his through his fingers and sloshes on the floor. Mama leaves the bacon on the stove for a moment to hand Daddy a towel. I have no idea what time my Mama gets up but I know she has time to get dressed heat up the stove when she calls me in the morning. She must get up quite early. By the time Josh has washed up Mama has put the plates with grits and a curl of Bacon on the table and hands around biscuits. I push mine in my grits and it warms up as if it was made fresh. Daddy says grace. We start eating, Daddy and Josh are making snuffling noises while they shovel the grits into there mouth, Josh is much to impatience to use a fork while eating grits so he uses a tablespoon. Mama stares down at her plate before she eats then lets out a long low breath and begins to eat. I burn my tongue with my haste to eat, my body fills with heat. I have barely time to swallow my last mouthful when we all rise from the table “ Good-bye, Arlene. We are going now. “calls Mama into our bedroom. How could she hear? She is sleeping. Yes, we are leaving now. The dark still lurks over the mill, but we’re going out into the blackness while you, the favoured one, sleep, with a quit that brings warmth to you body. You get to sleep as long as you like. The softness of your bed, while the shape that was once filled with my presence grows cold. I have never bothered counting the steps to the mill but it is different everyday. Today the cold nips me through my sweater and swirls around my legs as I try to keep up with Mama. Josh and Daddy push way ahead with their long strides. Margaret and Katie pass in the dark. Their best friends, eleven like me, and Katie has her younger brother jimmy by the hand He stumbles along still partially asleep. They most likely do not see me. Maybe if there was only one of them, Katie or Margaret. With one I may have a best friend but, but as it is , that spot was already taken. For I am walking to the mill, I have left my hate behind in my warm bed with my sister. Arlene will wake when she wants and find her breakfast on the back of the stove. All she has to do before she starts to cook is make the beds and wash the dishes. By the time she brings us our dinner pales the sun will have risen to make a watery path to the top of the sky, and I will have tied more threads then I can count.
Arlene Journal Entry 1
“I am full of hate, and that I know is wicked.” –Arlene page 7. When my mother wakes Pauline, it already bubbles in my throat , ready to overflow. “Get up, Pauline. It’s time.” May mother says. The whistle blows like an owl hooting before he goes to bed. To- whoo, to-whoo. Trailing off as he flies through the woods. I cannot fly. Pauline cannot fly. In that we are the same. Like our mouths, and eyes like the jut of our chins. Like the part of our hair. Everything about us is the same. Only not. But now a bumping noise sounds through out the house, and I know what each one means. I hear Daddy’s heavy boots clunk and Josh’s quicker thuds, and the pots on the stove clink together. The sound connects me with their moning. The house grows quiet again. I can imagine every one around the table eating breakfast in the lamplight, can smell the salty bacon. I hear every one get up from the table and their shoes are shuffling on the floor of the stove room. I hear Mama come into my and Pauline’s room “Good- bye, Arlene. We are going now.” She says. Pauline says nothing she is glad to get out of the house to go to the mill with Katie and Margaret. She will laugh and talk all day while I am here alone and cooking and cleaning for the day. I get up and hobble through the warm stove room and out the back door. I try and move fast but the monster foot is dragging me down. The cold rushes under my night dress and I shiver, but I cannot afford to feel it. I must hurry. Relived I finally open the creaking door and I sit. Only a little pee has dribbled down my leg. I am alone I know but I dress before breakfast . I put on my shoes on my right foot a shoe like Pauline wears and on my monster foot it is a shoe Josh has out grown. Before we were born when did it happen? When did it become my foot and not hers? Did she wrest a good one from me in exchange for the one I have? I should like to ask her if she remembers. Or was it when my mother named us? This is Pauline the perfect one, and this is Arlene because of her monster foot. The grits are very stiff, the bacon warm and limp. I eat the grits right out of the pot on the back of the stove, a biscuit stuffed to one side. A little coffee remains strong and bitter and full of grounds. But I drink it out of Daddy’s cup before I begin to wash up. The chickens look at me with suspicion as I scrape the remainder of the grits onto the ground in front of them. One pecks at the shoe on my good foot before she ambles over and starts to peck at the congealed white mess. Four rooms make up our house. Three bedrooms and one stove room, in which we all eat and socialize in. The house will soon be filled with lint, I think if I did not stay watchful. I reach under our bed with the broom. Behind the slop jar. Behind Josh’s other old shoe. Come out! You can not hide under there! No one invite the lint in. It rides unbidden from the mill on their clothes like beggar lice catch a ride from the field. Every one shakes it off or combs it off, it gathers in piles under beds, on the top of Mama’s dresser, and in corners, where it tries to hide itself. When I came closer the lint lifts as if it can fly, but it settles again, agreeing to ride the broom straws. Once I have done the dishes and put them away, I have used all the water so I take out the water pale and take it to the front pump. The handle is freezing in my palm it makes tingles go down my spine. The cold makes the pump slow. The sun has begun it’s slow climb. Water sloshes over the side of the side of the pale, the handle of the pale is digging sharply into my hand. While I am waiting for the water to heat up, I go and get some wood from out side and while it is in my arms it is rough and prickly. They smell of turpentine. I hit the door with the back of my right heel and it stings. Josh spend all day splitting wood on Saturday, the ringing of the axe as it thudded against the wood sending splinters flying. I retrieve them and set them by the fire, they are great fire starters. The wash bored bangs against the sink. I scrub, my nostrils burn with the odour of strong soap. My knuckles sting when I miss the cloth and scrap my hand on the wash bored. Overalls are the hardest. So I put them off till last. I will wrestle you. I will scrub you with no mercy. Then I will wring you dry and hang you on the line in the cold repent . I will wrestle you , and I will win.
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