The Michigan chronicle. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1936-current, 1939-09-09
PRELUDE

| Place: A farm community.
Characters: A man, a woman, a
child.
Dad Blowers was an innately lazy
man. He was what one might call
a philosophical farmer Dad could
quote the scriptures from "A to z
and knew more about politics than
any Washington expert or brain
truster. In a leisurely way Dad had
two DECISIONS, his ancient corn cob
pipe and his farm. But Dad Blow
ers was an innately lazy man.
/ FART
Ma Blowers, short and bordering
on stoutness, sat on the low back
porch Smelling fresh green peas.
They fell into the shining aluminium
boiler with a penk so rapidly that
they almost played a melody. She
raised her head after a while and
called, Dad, Dad Blowers"
No answer was forthcoming and
slight frown disturbed the calm
resignation Of her countenance,
Dad"
Here, Ma" Dad emerged slow
ffy rom around the corner OF the
house, sucking loudly and persis-
tently on his ancient corn cob pipe,
"Whatcha want?"
Gracious man, you could answer
body. Bring in them jars from
the loft, must start the cannin' to-
morrow Summers nigh gone and
seems that twas Jest yesterday it
come"
Now, Ma" Dad put in, Don't
you be a washin no wagon load O.
jars tonight You've done enough
today and we still got tomorrow,
il bein' the Lords will"
Not the Lords will but yours.
Dan Blowers. Want those this eve
min, While l get supper you get
them jars You're sure Blow
er alright always dreamin'
and thinkin' things II Just happen.
Always putin off and never get
tin up and dom nothin. Guess you
can't help it tho, guess it just in
you what they call 'heri-
lance"
Nav Ma. you see a mans got
to take time out 10 think, he just
can't keep his nose to the grind
stone all the time-drive him crazy.
He must think, that's what a man
needs, time out to think"
Yes, you've been takin' time out
for twenty years, guess you'll keep
on until it takes you out. Them
jars, Dad, scat!'
Dad didn't scat but he shambled
off the porch sucking loudly and
persistently on his ancient corn cob
pipe and scratching his scarcely
haired head over the misunder-
standing ways Of wimmen.
PART II
The setting sun o. the midsummer
late afternoon brooded red gold in
the western sky, over far reaching
fields OF tall, ripe corn. A slight
breeze played tag with the leaves
and playfully invited the corn to
dance.
Dan Blowers Jr. heard it over
and over again as he sat on the
front porch. You're the spit OF
your Daddy always dreamin' when
you ought TO be workin'."
Time turned backward, he was
thin. slim lad stretched under an
apple tree in the orchard to the
east OF the farm house, reading the
story Of a young boy whose secret
star was education, who walked
miles and slept in cutters to reach
school where he might learn and
grow and the little boy grew and
built a school for other little boys
like him.
A voice penetrated the silence,
Dan, you there, Dan Blowers, go
fetch the kindlin and put that book
away. You're the spit o your daddy
always readin' and dreamin'.'
t-Bdu remembered a cnifdh0od
punctuated by such accusations and
rude awakenings from noble Wis
ions He also remembered that it
had been with great difficulty that
he had finished high school, but he
had done it,
And he would do it again, he
would show them that again Dan
Blowers Jr. was made Of stronger
stuff. He could make his dreams
come true. The little Gods of Fear
clutched at his heart he did
love the young green fields Of
springtime, the ripeness OF a mid
summer crop and the gold OF an
autumn harvest, but life was more
than that 1t was action and he
wanted to be in the thick Of it, He
would leave the farm and go to
school, study journalism, write WV
idly about the lives Of many peo-
pie and at last livel
Across the knuckles OF his clench-
ed fists the 5kin was drawn tight
and bloodless and determination
burned fiercely in his eyes.
The smell Of hot corn bread
ttngied in his uostrils, Dan Blow
ers Jr. slowly relaxed, rose, looked
long at the still. calm impsssivity
Of the late midsummer afternoon
as it merged INTO dusk, sighed and
went in to dinner.
The slight breeze whispered loud
er in the trees and the tall corn
in the far-reaching fields danced
prophetically
PART Ill
$50 hes'goin TO the city TO school.
Gonna be one Of them journalist
fellows. Wal, that's a high ialutin'
notion" Dad Blowers spoke care
lessly to Ma between puffs on his
ancient pipe
Yes. an ! hope he makes good
Hope he comes back with his idea
true He'll be the first Blower to
really do something fine Ma