HOMEWORK
“Tilling the soil,” mom says, “In, up and over.”
She digs the shovel into my football end zone and demonstrates in, up, and over.
No more backyard play land. We are going to grow our own food. “Why?”
“Because,” she says, “it’s better than the food in the stores.”
“Let’s grow candy.”
She ignores this suggestion, and says, “Let’s get busy.”
“Do we have to?” I whine.
“Carrots, tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes…” she says pointing at the dirt, “No more stores. The fresher the food, the more nutritious.”
“Ah, when?” We will starve before that happens.
“I don’t know,” she stops, squishes her eyes to look at the small seed pack, “soon, I hope.”
My homework last week was about the food chain. A break in the food chain. Mom did most of the work. Cars have poison, jets have poison, factories and farms have poison, plastic, metal, tires, sprays, all poison -- they are not natural and don’t recycle like wood/paper, fruits and vegetables. The poison gets in the air we breathe, or in the ground we feed, or in the water we need.
Why don’t we have wooden cars? Like the Flintstones.
All week long mom talked about eating healthy foods and repairing the food chain. Saturday she shopped for seeds and shovels. And on Sunday we are digging, planting and repairing the chain.
Mom stands and surveys our destroyed backyard. She looks satisfied, like when she bought me the shoes, “Yes, this is going to be good."
Doesn't look good to me.
"We don’t want to eat from polluted ground,” she says.
I guess cat pee doesn’t count.
She brushes the yard from her hands and pants. “The toxins can last for years in our organs. The stuff we eat today is what makes us healthy or unhealthy tomorrow.”
“Is that why grandpa died?”
“When your grandpa was my age he used to swim in a polluted river, and he smoked cigarettes. Either one or both caused the cancer twenty years later.”
Toma and I snuck over to the river and went swimming yesterday. Maybe we should not have done that. Twenty more years.
“What if bugs eat our food?”
“No pesticides!” she says, “We won’t use any pest spray -- that poison also kills us.”
“What about the bugs though?”
“We’ll eat them, too.” She turns and smiles, “Protein.”
“Protein?”
“It’s another word for chicken.”
At dinner we have roast protein (chicken) and potatoes. I’m not hungry.
Sunday night homework is on energy, which we could both use right now. Fixing the food chain is hard work.
“Water power, wind power, and solar power. Only three healthy powers,” she reads. She is lying down with her legs hanging over the end of grandpa’s small couch. “These are also known as green energy. Things that do not deplete the earth’s resources or cause damage to the earth.”
“Green energy. Got it.” I say and move toward the window.
“Nuclear power, coal and wood burning – all bad for the environment,” mom continues, “Nuclear waste is toxic forever; coal and wood burning damage the air.”
It’s almost 8. Teresa time.
“What do you think?” she wants to know.
“That’s interesting,” I say. That’s interesting always works when I’m not paying attention.
“Yes. It is.” She sits up. “In fact, we need to start collecting rain water, use it for our garden. And we need to make sure we utilize the sunlight as much as possible – cut back some of the tree above the garden.”
“Interesting,” I say, staring at Teresa’s bedroom curtains. “Too many curtains,” I blurt out accidently.
“Yes, good! – Don’t block the sun -- Solar energy is a heat source, all year round…”
Maybe I should stay home and tend to our new farm and mom could go to the third grade. She’s lying back down stretching her arms and exercising her legs like scissors.
“Corey, what are three positive sources of energy?”
Uh-oh. Her sudden Sunday quiz. No time to run for the thinking cap.
“Sun…”
“Solar, yes,” she confirms, “that’s one.”
“Rain?” I guess.
“Water. Waterpower. That’s two,” she says. Her voice has a distinctive lack-of-confidence I’ll-be-waiting-forever tone.
“Yeah, water. And…”
She’s wiggling her foot on the end of the couch; her foot is twirling like a broken windmill. “Pay attention,” she says.
Teresa’s at her bedroom window collecting most of my attention. We’re supposed to signal each other at 8. “Uh,” I say, “nuclear?”
“No…, that’s a bad one. Three positive sources for energy -- Solar power, Water power, and…?”
“Coal. It’s natural.” I say as Teresa sees me.
“No, that’s another bad one.”
“Trees.” We wave.
“Are you paying attention?” mom points to her foot, now she has both feet whirling around, like busted propellers from a plane or a boat.
“Foot power.”
“Corey, stop fooling around. Look --” She’s blowing the homework page above her face. It balances for a second or two before it sails to the floor. She looks over at me, “What’s another source of positive energy?”
I have Teresa on my lips and don’t have room for anything else at the moment.
“What?” she asks, "-- another source of positive energy is --"
“You are mom,” I say.
“Core, that is an excellent answer,” she says, her tone is very confident this time. She sits up, proud and happy with the quiz results. She walks over to me, “The power of love is a bonus point, my boy. What a smart guy!”
“Sun, rain, and love. Got it.” Smart guy.
“Not quite -- When you take your Green Energy test tomorrow you might want to write Sun, Water, and – WIND,” mom blows “wind” into my ear and closes our solar blocker curtain. Teresa disappears.
“Wind? Oh – ok. Green energy.” I say, “Thanks.”
“Don’t forget.”
“”I won’t.” Doesn’t matter. Teresa will slip me the answers during the test anyway.
"Homework" excerpt from Corey Story ©2013 John Kirkmire
“Tilling the soil,” mom says, “In, up and over.”
She digs the shovel into my football end zone and demonstrates in, up, and over.
No more backyard play land. We are going to grow our own food. “Why?”
“Because,” she says, “it’s better than the food in the stores.”
“Let’s grow candy.”
She ignores this suggestion, and says, “Let’s get busy.”
“Do we have to?” I whine.
“Carrots, tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes…” she says pointing at the dirt, “No more stores. The fresher the food, the more nutritious.”
“Ah, when?” We will starve before that happens.
“I don’t know,” she stops, squishes her eyes to look at the small seed pack, “soon, I hope.”
My homework last week was about the food chain. A break in the food chain. Mom did most of the work. Cars have poison, jets have poison, factories and farms have poison, plastic, metal, tires, sprays, all poison -- they are not natural and don’t recycle like wood/paper, fruits and vegetables. The poison gets in the air we breathe, or in the ground we feed, or in the water we need.
Why don’t we have wooden cars? Like the Flintstones.
All week long mom talked about eating healthy foods and repairing the food chain. Saturday she shopped for seeds and shovels. And on Sunday we are digging, planting and repairing the chain.
Mom stands and surveys our destroyed backyard. She looks satisfied, like when she bought me the shoes, “Yes, this is going to be good."
Doesn't look good to me.
"We don’t want to eat from polluted ground,” she says.
I guess cat pee doesn’t count.
She brushes the yard from her hands and pants. “The toxins can last for years in our organs. The stuff we eat today is what makes us healthy or unhealthy tomorrow.”
“Is that why grandpa died?”
“When your grandpa was my age he used to swim in a polluted river, and he smoked cigarettes. Either one or both caused the cancer twenty years later.”
Toma and I snuck over to the river and went swimming yesterday. Maybe we should not have done that. Twenty more years.
“What if bugs eat our food?”
“No pesticides!” she says, “We won’t use any pest spray -- that poison also kills us.”
“What about the bugs though?”
“We’ll eat them, too.” She turns and smiles, “Protein.”
“Protein?”
“It’s another word for chicken.”
At dinner we have roast protein (chicken) and potatoes. I’m not hungry.
Sunday night homework is on energy, which we could both use right now. Fixing the food chain is hard work.
“Water power, wind power, and solar power. Only three healthy powers,” she reads. She is lying down with her legs hanging over the end of grandpa’s small couch. “These are also known as green energy. Things that do not deplete the earth’s resources or cause damage to the earth.”
“Green energy. Got it.” I say and move toward the window.
“Nuclear power, coal and wood burning – all bad for the environment,” mom continues, “Nuclear waste is toxic forever; coal and wood burning damage the air.”
It’s almost 8. Teresa time.
“What do you think?” she wants to know.
“That’s interesting,” I say. That’s interesting always works when I’m not paying attention.
“Yes. It is.” She sits up. “In fact, we need to start collecting rain water, use it for our garden. And we need to make sure we utilize the sunlight as much as possible – cut back some of the tree above the garden.”
“Interesting,” I say, staring at Teresa’s bedroom curtains. “Too many curtains,” I blurt out accidently.
“Yes, good! – Don’t block the sun -- Solar energy is a heat source, all year round…”
Maybe I should stay home and tend to our new farm and mom could go to the third grade. She’s lying back down stretching her arms and exercising her legs like scissors.
“Corey, what are three positive sources of energy?”
Uh-oh. Her sudden Sunday quiz. No time to run for the thinking cap.
“Sun…”
“Solar, yes,” she confirms, “that’s one.”
“Rain?” I guess.
“Water. Waterpower. That’s two,” she says. Her voice has a distinctive lack-of-confidence I’ll-be-waiting-forever tone.
“Yeah, water. And…”
She’s wiggling her foot on the end of the couch; her foot is twirling like a broken windmill. “Pay attention,” she says.
Teresa’s at her bedroom window collecting most of my attention. We’re supposed to signal each other at 8. “Uh,” I say, “nuclear?”
“No…, that’s a bad one. Three positive sources for energy -- Solar power, Water power, and…?”
“Coal. It’s natural.” I say as Teresa sees me.
“No, that’s another bad one.”
“Trees.” We wave.
“Are you paying attention?” mom points to her foot, now she has both feet whirling around, like busted propellers from a plane or a boat.
“Foot power.”
“Corey, stop fooling around. Look --” She’s blowing the homework page above her face. It balances for a second or two before it sails to the floor. She looks over at me, “What’s another source of positive energy?”
I have Teresa on my lips and don’t have room for anything else at the moment.
“What?” she asks, "-- another source of positive energy is --"
“You are mom,” I say.
“Core, that is an excellent answer,” she says, her tone is very confident this time. She sits up, proud and happy with the quiz results. She walks over to me, “The power of love is a bonus point, my boy. What a smart guy!”
“Sun, rain, and love. Got it.” Smart guy.
“Not quite -- When you take your Green Energy test tomorrow you might want to write Sun, Water, and – WIND,” mom blows “wind” into my ear and closes our solar blocker curtain. Teresa disappears.
“Wind? Oh – ok. Green energy.” I say, “Thanks.”
“Don’t forget.”
“”I won’t.” Doesn’t matter. Teresa will slip me the answers during the test anyway.
"Homework" excerpt from Corey Story ©2013 John Kirkmire