Tommytown
by
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Maggie scanned the scene on the front porch once more before turning to leave. Her pace quickened as she remembered the vision of her brother's blood-soaked arm and his chalky white face. Kneeling down, the mother took a deep breath. She thought of her children and how they had such a terribly hard life. She was desperately trying to control the anger building inside her as her mind raced with memories of her irresponsible husband, Richard. He had deceived her into believing that he would be here all the time, day and night, helping her with this farm. He had told her that he would be there to milk the cows, tend the crops, and mend the fences. But he had lied. It was she and her children who had spent the endless hours of toil and sweat on this farm while he had spent his time and all his money in town. He had no right to stay away, leaving only poor Bunky to try and make a go of this farm. It was not fair to Bunky, or to any of her other children to live like this. "No more. We'll not stay another day at this place," she told herself. At that moment, from a short distance behind Barry came a sound of giggling. As if they could sense there was something unusual happening, his three younger brother's, Noah, Petey, and Chris appeared suddenly on the scene. They looked at Bunky then stood silently behind Barry watching. The ground was warm under their bare feet. Their eyes scanned their mother, their brother, Bunky, then Barry. Noah was first to edge himself forward for a better look. Petey next and the youngest brother, Chris, soon followed. It took them a moment to realize what had happened. Their breathing increased as they looked across the crowd and focused on Bunky's red-bandaged arm and his pale face. In silence they remained, confused and unable to move. Barry glanced at Noah then at his mother, asking in a firm tone, "Mom, what about Daddy?" Her eyes glanced upward, finding Barry still standing, arms dangling, dust covering his sweaty, bare chest. His upper stomach heaved in and out. Holding back her tears, she said softly, touching his fingers, "Barry, I'll take care of your father." She focused harder then added, "Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you. Now you go inside and watch over your little brothers till I get back." She paused a moment, then added, "Will you do that for me?" Barry nodded his head slowly, then asked, "Are we going somewhere?" At that moment the thirty-five year old mother was bending over and placing her shoulder against Bunky's chest when she heard Barry's question. She could feel the blood rush to her face, but at the same time she thought about her son’s pointed question. It amazed her how her son, being so young could possess such a gift as to read her mind. Continuing on, she braced her strong legs, tightened her lips, then heaved her eldest son up onto her shoulder. The strain caused her face to burst with redness and her eyelids to shut tight. Standing a moment to gain her balance, she inhaled deeply then she took a few steps. Without looking at Barry she replied, "Yes. We're moving off this farm." Confident now that she could carry her son, the mother moved forward cautiously. "But, where are we going?" Walking faster now, breathing harder while jockeying the load on her shoulder, the mother yelled into the air, "Tommytown!" Later in the novel: Arriving two days later, Mom slid out of the car, carrying her newborn daughter, Patsy, in her arms. Once she approached the front door of her mother-in-law’s house, she had a peculiar feeling, like her sixth sense was trying to tell her something. Suddenly a chill ran down her spine causing her to shudder. She locked her jaws tight, preparing herself for trouble. The kind of trouble she had known before. It was the kind of trouble that had only one outcome . . . grief. "One of my sons cries out for me." She knows. She can feel it. Then she suddenly thinks of comfort. It’s the false comfort that allows someone to change her mind to avoid the worst. She thinks that maybe she was just over-reacting by thinking the worst. But then her brain brings her back to her senses and tells her that something is not right. It tells her that one of her sons cries out for her and now she believes the worst. She is certain. She shakes her head slowly trying to remain calm and to regain her strength, to prepare herself for the worst. Moving forward, she now is certain the awful grief is awaiting her. "Which son is in pain?" she asked herself. With her body tense, she prepared herself for that awful grief. Stopping at the front door, she gently released her baby’s warm lips from the nipple of her breast with her forefinger. The baby’s bright, blue eyes peeked a view of her, then her pure voice cooed back at her. Glancing back at Karen, Mom paused and handed the newborn to her. While Karen wrapped the pink blanket around the baby and adjusted her fragile body against her chest, Mom whispered, "Stay close to me Karen, all the time." "Why? Is something wrong?" "I’m not sure." Out of ear shot, five paces behind them, her husband walked slowly, head down and hands in his pockets, like he was thinking heavily about something he knew that his wife didn’t know about and he dreaded the thought of her finding out. At that moment, Barry could not speak. He felt as if he had no tongue at all. It was morning and he had not slept. He laid on the hard floor and could not hear the movements of feet from the outside. Yesterday morning, his grandmother had made him drag himself downstairs to the kitchen so it would be easier for her to give him her tea, all the while telling him that she didn’t want to hear any of his whining. It was not the smell of hot food that wove its way to his nose, but instead the reeking smell of his own waste that had soaked into his clothes and surrounded him where he lay. He had no appetite and his head was thumping. His stomach was churning and great waves of agony swept through the joints of both knees. He ached all over from the many, throbbing boils. Warm, yellow pus was seeping its way down each leg. All he could think of is blotting out those last five days. The most comfortable position he found for his body was on his left side. He tried to escape the wrenching pain in his legs and joints by tapping his finger against his cheek, but the pain remained. "Now," he told himself, "I don’t need sight anymore." He closed his eyes, to rely on something more pleasant - memories. Memories of playing Cowboys in the green fields with Noah, Lester, and Ronnie. Memories of them laughing, giggling, and having fun. Memories of . . . No, he didn’t want memories anymore . . . what good were they anyway? Suddenly, a heavy feeling of being abandoned came upon him and he asked himself, "Mom, where are you? I cried every night for you. You gave me your promise that you would come back in a couple of days and you broke it. Why did you do that?" Sighing in disgust, he thought, "If you can’t trust your mother, who can you trust?" With a sense of abandonment, he wanted to die, to end this agony of life. The sense of death grew in him very fast. He convinced himself that he was seeing life for the last time. He wished h
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About the Book
Helen Foreman, a young mother with seven children, makes another lonely decision, directed toward overcoming one more hardship in her quest to survive while living in pure poverty during the 1950’s. Every day she summons her strength to bring comfort, warmth, and her unconditional support to her family, while at the same time struggling to provide them with food and shelter. There is no welfare system to give her assistance. No laws to protect her or her children’s rights. The only protection she had was her perseverance and her courage. She stood alone with no hope of a paradise waiting for her at the end of each day. This is a captivating story that places emphasis on Helen’s capacity to overcome the overwhelming odds of raising her family, whose ages ranged from four to seventeen years old and how she suffered silently. It’s also a story of the children’s appreciation for their mother’s love and dedication, even though they were poor and lacked basic nourishment. It tells how they coped with living their lives in poverty even though their closets were devoid of decent clothing and there were no toys for them to play with. It’s a drama that blends profiles involving relationships between a family consisting of five young brothers, two sisters, and their mother; living in a small hamlet named Tommytown. The story reveals their compassion and understanding for one another, their desires and frustrations of living below the poverty level.
About the Author
I grew up on the rural farmlands in the area known as Tommytown. It was here with my four brothers and two sisters that I gathered many of the memories – good and bad for the scenes in my novel, Tommytown. Here was where I enjoyed the great outdoors with its warmth of the sun and the pleasures of the land. Always outside, I played my favorite game of Cowboys and Indians with my brothers. It was from these rural roots that I drew upon to reveal the true heroine of Tommytown . . . my mother. Even while living in pure poverty before the days of welfare and public assistance, she overcame many hardships, but she never wavered in her compassion and understanding of her children. I believe that mothers who have enjoyed their children’s smiles of happiness and experienced their cries of sorrow will have their hearts touched. When I am not writing part-time, I pursue my career as a System Designer for a large consulting firm. I have attended writing workshops and entered several local contests in the Washington, D.C. area. I am currently editing my second novel, which I hope to finish early this summer. I am married to a very lovely woman and have three grown daughters.