If I move west to California, I will participate in the American tradition of migrating to California to seek happiness and a fortune. My fortune will be metaphorical, since I don't ever expect to make a literal fortune as a literature teacher. Despite my relative poverty in a state where the cost of living can be daunting, I will be moving to California in terms considerably better than most of my migrant predecessors, including the Joads, the Oklahoma family that makes the trek to California during the Dust Bowl in John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath.
I read the Grapes of Wrath over this Christmas break. I was immediately drawn in by Steinbeck's archetypal characters, particularly Ma and Tom who hold together the gang of 13 who start out from Oklahoma (the family is considerably depleted by the end of the book).
I have never experienced poverty, and this book added significantly to my imagination's collection of images, tastes, and sensations related to poverty. One is exhaustion from being on the move. The family were tired so much of the time, simply because they were never allowed to properly settle down. "I just wan' ta set awhile" was an oft repeated phrase and sentiment.
My experiences in California:
The beautiful lake path around Lake Merritt in Oakland.
Lyft rides from people of all races and origins.
A Burmese lunch occasion, at a table next to two men talking about the plight of Palestine.
Flights that arrived on time and left on time from Oakland's airport.
Courteous Amtrak employees
A public bus to the airport on which people very actively helped me get to the right stop
A spiffy Trader Joe's
A lively breakfast cafe serving smoked salmon
These a far cry from what the Joads experienced:
Roads which they traveled in a jalopy truck loaded with pans and mattresses
Harassment from cops and locals who cried "Okies!" and burned them out of the Hoovervilles where they set up camp
No lunch. Coffee for breakfast, maybe some biscuits fried in lard, and anything from cornmeal mush to pork chops for dinner, depending on how much money had been earned that day.
Flights in the night from cops, camp proprietors, ruthless employers, strike breakers.
Sassy orchard owners who exploited the flooded labor market by setting prices at rock bottom levels, telling the Joads and others that thousands of other workers would fill their shoes if they chose to pass up the picking jobs (true in every situation).
Company stores which charged higher prices than town stores for sub-par products like fatty hamburger full of gristle.
A sodden fireplace in a boxcar, threatened (and eventually overtaken) by flood waters.
I am grateful that my transition to California, if it happens, will be smoother than the Joads. I am sure though, that many an introduction to California in this age is similarly fraught. Hopefully I can, through being involved with Quaker Meetings and school systems there, help make it easier for some.
This is a picture of Olivia's Christmas tree, with real candles in the style of Germany.
I read the Grapes of Wrath over this Christmas break. I was immediately drawn in by Steinbeck's archetypal characters, particularly Ma and Tom who hold together the gang of 13 who start out from Oklahoma (the family is considerably depleted by the end of the book).
I have never experienced poverty, and this book added significantly to my imagination's collection of images, tastes, and sensations related to poverty. One is exhaustion from being on the move. The family were tired so much of the time, simply because they were never allowed to properly settle down. "I just wan' ta set awhile" was an oft repeated phrase and sentiment.
My experiences in California:
The beautiful lake path around Lake Merritt in Oakland.
Lyft rides from people of all races and origins.
A Burmese lunch occasion, at a table next to two men talking about the plight of Palestine.
Flights that arrived on time and left on time from Oakland's airport.
Courteous Amtrak employees
A public bus to the airport on which people very actively helped me get to the right stop
A spiffy Trader Joe's
A lively breakfast cafe serving smoked salmon
These a far cry from what the Joads experienced:
Roads which they traveled in a jalopy truck loaded with pans and mattresses
Harassment from cops and locals who cried "Okies!" and burned them out of the Hoovervilles where they set up camp
No lunch. Coffee for breakfast, maybe some biscuits fried in lard, and anything from cornmeal mush to pork chops for dinner, depending on how much money had been earned that day.
Flights in the night from cops, camp proprietors, ruthless employers, strike breakers.
Sassy orchard owners who exploited the flooded labor market by setting prices at rock bottom levels, telling the Joads and others that thousands of other workers would fill their shoes if they chose to pass up the picking jobs (true in every situation).
Company stores which charged higher prices than town stores for sub-par products like fatty hamburger full of gristle.
A sodden fireplace in a boxcar, threatened (and eventually overtaken) by flood waters.
I am grateful that my transition to California, if it happens, will be smoother than the Joads. I am sure though, that many an introduction to California in this age is similarly fraught. Hopefully I can, through being involved with Quaker Meetings and school systems there, help make it easier for some.
This is a picture of Olivia's Christmas tree, with real candles in the style of Germany.
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