Saturday, March 8, 2014

#38 - Broken Dreams - The Story

Broken Dreams is a story about how loss can drive us to action.  The destruction of Bartholomew's garden is part of the loss Geraldine feels as she can do nothing but witness.  But it is also the loss of Bartholomew, her best friend, that drives her to defend his garden.  It is the loss of Bartholomew that also brings Geraldine and Oliver, passive enemies, together.

Have you ever defended a friend?  At times it is not easy and can be scary. But if you won't fight for your friends, will you even fight for yourself?  It is by supporting other people that people then want to support each other.  The example, the action in the face of danger, can inspire or lead people to be kinder, more supportive.  And Bartholomew will never know the support his pets gave him in this situation.  He is not there and they cannot tell him.  Yet, they can, because their actions and attitudes toward him will change in light of supporting him when he is not around.  He will experience the change in them, and it will speak to him.  What would this world be if we just supported our friends more?  Even when they are not around.  What would our lives be like if we were dedicated to others, not because of a sense of duty, but because we understand we are less without them?

Here is an excerpt from Broken Dreams, to be published at The Book of Bartholomew on March 9, 2012:

That afternoon, while she napped on the front steps of Bartholomew’s house, a van pulled up to the garden. It was big and had all kinds of letters on the side. Out came two men. Geraldine was hoping one of them was Bartholomew. Seeing that neither was him, she went back to napping. They opened the back of the van and pulled out tall tripods and a couple of cases. The men looked over a map and then placed the tripods in the garden. From the cases they took instruments for measuring distances. For the next twenty minutes they took measurements throughout the garden and all the way to the railroad tracks. At times they would spray paint on the ground.

Geraldine was not liking the look of this and decided to go tell the two men. She ran down the street and barked at them. They turned around quickly to see what ferocious beast was going to attack them, and then they laughed and continued working. Geraldine got within a couple of feet of one of them and barked as loud and a fast as she could. He paid no attention to her. She went to bark at the other man, but he just turned and walked farther away with his equipment. Geraldine was not happy that they were ignoring her. She went right up to one man and barked only inches from his shoe. He looked wary for a moment but then continued his work. Geraldine began to panic a little bit. Why weren’t they stopping what they were doing? She felt a little helpless and didn’t know what else to do, so she mounted the man’s leg and began to hump.

Now the man paid attention.

“Get off me,” the man said as he shook his leg. Geraldine did not let go. He reached down and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and yanked her off his leg.

“What should we do with this, Charlie?” asked the man to the other.

“Put it in the van,” said Charlie.

The man threw Geraldine into the back of the van, slammed the door shut and went back to his work. Ten more minutes went by without a sound from the men. Geraldine was alert. She was alert and ready for anything. With her heightened senses she smelled something, something tunafish-like. She found a brown bag just behind one of the seats. It smelled like tunafish sandwiches, an apple and potato chips. She was about to dig in to it and eat it, but decided instead to pee on it instead.

Meanwhile, the men outside finished measuring the edge of the railroad property and marked it on the ground. They called another crew to tell them they were finished. Five minutes later, Geraldine heard another vehicle drive up. The men discussed some things about the markings on the ground that identified railroad property and then she heard loud noises. The new crew started up their weed whips and brush cutters. A couple of men removed all of the wire cages and solid objects and then the others started walking through the garden and mowing it down.

Mr. McBarden’s plot, which had already been cut down by the police because he had been growing marijuana, was trimmed even lower and his hedge removed. Bits of red tomato whipped through the air and splattered the men’s pants. Carrots and beets were sliced in half as the men dug them up. Lettuces, green onions, herbs and radishes were cut to a nub. And Bartholomew’s beautiful towering kale fell mangled and distorted like a broken body. What wasn’t completely cut to the ground was tromped on by the men’s boots – smashed back into the ground from which it came. If that weren’t enough, the men then sprayed the garden with an herbicide. Some of the liquid death drifted to the part of the garden not on railroad property. Their work was thorough and complete.

About two thirds of the garden was on railroad property. When the men were finished, that part of the garden looked like a pile of weeds. The part of the garden not on railroad property had been trampled by the workers and didn’t look much better than the rest. The railroad company left the pile of plants where it lay. It didn't matter if it was a mess, they just didn’t want someone growing a garden on their property. In reality, they didn’t really mind someone growing a garden on this piece property, but the owner of the railroad owed Gerald a favor.

No comments:

Post a Comment