The Dust Bowl Dance

The Dust Bowl was an awesome addition to the Great Depression. It is exactly what the citizens of Oklahoma Pan Handle needed. Many families were forced to move west. The town was covered in dust, sand, and dirt. The town was rundown and dead-looking. It was very depressing. But luckily, some had hope that things were going to get better, eventually. The people are poor and homeless, desiring food or something to help them out. And for the people that didn’t have hope, they migrated west, trying to survive.

There is a man on his porch. He is one of the few lucky ones that still have their home… for now. His name is Tom Joad. As of right now, he is his family. I bet you’re thinking, “But where is his family, Mr. Narrator Sir?” Well, his family didn’t have faith in Oklahoma and moved out towards California, much like many Oklahomans. His mother Mary, older sister Katelyn Rae, little sister, Susan, and his father John all up and left him there. Tom was currently 16 and living by himself. He was very close with his father. They did most of the farm work together and took care of the farm animals. But now that will be only memories. The farm is covered in a thick layer of the dirt mixture and the animals are long gone. Their old life, the one he grew up with, is buried in dirt, just like everything else.

Tom sat on the edge of his porch, staring at the empty, barren land with no one around for miles. He was quite melancholy, to say the least. As his eyes had an upward cast on the dark colored sky, trying to see any source of light at all, a car pulls up. The car’s lights were bright, trying to make its way through the dark state. A man in a suit, around the age of 45, stepped out of the car and called to tom.

“Sir, are you the owner of this land?”

Tom stood from his spot on the porch and retorted with a slight nod. Tom Joad had a feeling about what was going to go down. He knew the type. The man wearing the suit was fresh looking, clean-cut, like he wasn’t even affected by the Dust Bowl. He was one with money and a job. Well, for now.

The two met in the middle, staring into each other’s eye. Tom, with a slight grimace on his face, put his hands on his hips, as if to say “What do you want?” The man with no interest with his childish behavior went straight to business.

“I’m sorry to say this, but you’re going to have to leave the premises permanently,” his monotone voice was not something Tom appreciated.

“And who are you?” Tom knew who he was. Jeffrey Burkins was a banker who had been evicting families for quite some time. He had a family; a wife and three daughters. Jeffrey, to the people’s dismay, hated what he had done to these families. It was a requirement to keep his job. He wasn’t even as rich as everybody makes him out to be.

“That is not important, but, I work for the bank and you are being evicted. That means you go and get your things and get out of this house, forever. “Jeffrey’s snide remark was not a good choice, at all.

Tome huffed and turned around, making his way into the house. He stopped what walking and came to a conclusion. He wasn’t fond of the idea but it had to be done. This was for his friends, family and everyone who had been evicted from their homes and for those who are suffering.

He made his way straight through the house to the other side. As you went out back, he located the old water trough they used for horses and cows. He dug around in there trying to find exactly what he was looking for. Once he found it, he made a brisk pace to the front of the house. He spotted Jeffrey with his back towards the house.

“Y’know, your oppression reeks of your greed and disgrace! “ Tom shouted, hopping off the porch. As Jeffrey spun around, Tom started up again. “How can you love what it is you have got, if you took it all from the weak hands of the poor?” Tom raised the gun, the same thing he had gotten from the water trough, and watched as Jeffrey stuttered with his words, something to say for Tom to change his mind. But it’s no use; Tom will not change his mind. “You haven’t met me, I am the only son.”

All it took were three shots and a bottle of bourbon for Tom to realize what he had really done. The body was buried poorly under the dirt by the water trough, the gun in the house right beside him and the car, still on the side of the road. He downed a shot of whiskey and looked at the time. It was approximately 10 o’clock at night and Tom was sulking, thinking about his next move. He was never one to lie so that was out of the question. He came to three other possible outcomes. One, turn himself in; two, catch up with his family out west; or three, to end it all. He went to bed that night, after both bottles of alcohol, with his decision made.

The sun was out but nobody could tell because of the dark skies full of dirt. It was windy, but bearable as Tom made his way into town. Yes, he had decided to turn himself in, as the guilt would’ve eaten him alive and he couldn’t bear to kill again. He had to get justice for Jeffrey Burkins’ family. Once he made it to the police department, he turned to the nearest officer and began to explain himself.

“I’ve nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide, I have come to face what I’ve done and do my time,” he explained. He told the details as his eyes glazed over on the verge of tears. “Well yes sir, yes sir, yes it was me. I know what I’ve done, 'cause I know what I’ve seen; I went out back and I got my gun. I said, ‘You haven’t met me, I am the only son.”