{"id":3295,"date":"2022-02-08T10:19:14","date_gmt":"2022-02-08T18:19:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lossuelos.com\/?p=3295"},"modified":"2022-02-13T19:40:16","modified_gmt":"2022-02-14T03:40:16","slug":"damn-diary","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lossuelos.com\/damn-diary\/","title":{"rendered":"Damn Diary"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n

June 27th<\/sup>, 1957<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Goddamn those Schaefers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If I never write another word in this damn diary, let those ones be the ones that stick. God damn those Schaefers and their greed. Ain\u2019t been married for a week, hardly even had time to kick the dust off our boots from the honeymoon\u2014Johnny took me out to the coast, got a pretty little bungalow on the beach and everything, real nice with the smell of the ocean right there\u2014before they\u2019re banging our door down. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cletus Schaefer is a two-faced son of a gun, is what he is. Didn\u2019t fight in the war, certainly not in Korea\u2014didn\u2019t come back with dark eyes and darker memories like my Johnny did. Him with his \u201cconscientious objection,\u201d staying safe at home and buying out every rancher he could, and now he thinks he can do the same to us? My grandmother\u2019s people, the Cassons, worked this land before his kind ever showed up here, and I won\u2019t be driven off it by the likes of this blond-haired, blue-eyed bastard, Lord forgive me for my plain speech. He can ask, he can bribe, he can bully, but he\u2019ll never have our ranch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

March 13th<\/sup>, 1965<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s still so cold out. Bad weather to be moving the herd in, but ain\u2019t got no choice, not if we\u2019re gonna get them to Fresno in time. Johnny still won\u2019t use Schaefer Slaughterhouse, and I\u2019d never blame him, but it\u2019s damnable hard on him these days. I can\u2019t help on account of Baby Peter, and Danielle is still too young to be safe among the cows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Roads are better lately, at least. Only good thing to come out of these alfalfa farmers is getting some new roads from the county. Them folks ain\u2019t produced a damn sprout yet, far as I know. Got nothing but Indian tobacco and ragweed as far as the eye can see. Good thing the cows are used to it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

December 24th<\/sup>, 1972<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Peter\u2019s cough ain\u2019t getting any better. Johnny\u2019s gone out to hunt down young Baltasar, see if he can\u2019t do something. Regular doctors ain\u2019t been no help\u2014it\u2019s not asthma, not allergies, not something worse like TB or cancer. Can\u2019t diagnose it, can\u2019t cure it, don\u2019t really seem to care one way or the other, those white-coated, city-bred bastards. We\u2019ve spent half our profit from this year\u2019s herd on all kinds of remedies, and they\u2019re not making a whit of a difference for my baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lord, he coughs so bad it makes him bleed. I\u2019d give him my lungs, if I could. I\u2019d give him everything, if I had anything at all left to give.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hell of a Christmas coming our way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

July 18th<\/sup>, 1975<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Can\u2019t believe I\u2019m hiding in my own bedroom, but I don\u2019t know what else to do. Danielle has run away, for good this time if her note\u2019s to be believed, and Johnny\u2019s in a rage. Seems like he\u2019s intent on breaking every piece of crockery in the house, and maybe the furniture, too. I ought to be out there soothing him, but\u2026 I\u2019m too afraid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There, I said it. Hate to, but if I can\u2019t be honest with myself, who can I be honest with? Johnny ain\u2019t been the same since Peter\u2019s death, getting more bitter by the day. We\u2019ve gotta import feed for the cows now\u2014otherwise they\u2019re skinny as rakes, trying to graze off land that don\u2019t wanna grow nothing but weeds these days. Got no money to spare, got no time left in the day after the animals and the garden (sad little thing though it is) are tended to. Should have made more time for Danielle, but she took matters into her own hands. It is what it is. She\u2019s smart, strong. Reckon she might have made the right choice after all, leaving this place… I can only pray for her now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And for myself. I think it might be too late to pray for Johnny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

January 5th<\/sup>, 1980<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Johnny ain\u2019t been home for five days. That\u2019s two days longer than his last bender. Is it a bender? Does it count if the fool don\u2019t drink, just goes and rides off into the desert by himself for days on end so he can shout down the sky and curse up the ground, leaving me all alone to handle things here? I had to sell my wedding ring to pay for a hand to come and help rustle the yearlings to the slaughterhouse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, that slaughterhouse. I still hate Cletus, but at this rate I might hate Johnny even more. Either way, these cows need clean killing and it\u2019s not like I can do it all myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

February 14th<\/sup>, 1984<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He howls at the moon. When he\u2019s not scratching at the dirt or shoving it in his mouth, that is. Don\u2019t know why\u2013it doesn\u2019t taste near as good as my cooking. I had to put him outside last night\u2013couldn\u2019t sleep with him here in the house, not if I wanted to get any sleep without him breathing down my neck, but I couldn\u2019t just turn him loose out there either. I ended up putting our dog\u2019s old chain around Johnny\u2019s neck and tying him to the old almond tree. Thank the Lord I don\u2019t have neighbors close enough to see my shame. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Least I got Danielle promising to visit next week during her last phone call. That\u2019s a bright spot in this patch of Hell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

September 3rd<\/sup>, 1990<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was gone when I woke up. I swear he was gone when I woke up. Don\u2019t know how it happened, don\u2019t know how he got out of the room\u2014I keep it locked at night, like I told the doctor Danielle sent out here I would, I swear I did. Not sure if Danielle believes me\u2013hard to tell over the phone. Not sure if she\u2019d blame me either way, but I swear to God above that I didn\u2019t let him out. Even if I had, how could I foresee this happening?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whoever thinks that a grown man is capable of throwing himself down a goddamn sinkhole? Two people saw it happen\u2014pair of farmers up on the northeast side of town. That sinkhole ain’t got no bottom that I or anybody else has ever found. Could drop a pebble down it and never hear it hit the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Skinny as he was, Johnny\u2019s a lot bigger than a pebble. Wonder if anyone heard him make a noise when he hit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

April 28th<\/sup>, 1991<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It hurts to sign that dotted line. Hurts to sell what\u2019s left of the land to the government, but better them than the Schaefers, for all that Cletus\u2019s been dead and gone for over a decade now. Gonna build some sort of research facility there someday, something scientific. We\u2019ll see if they ever do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Can\u2019t see what they\u2019re interested in learning about, if it ain\u2019t the way this damn patch of dirt drives you mad. Should have come and talked to me about that while Johnny was still alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

June 16th<\/sup>, 1993<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, hell. We\u2019re a real town now. Los Suelos. Fancy that. Some beancounter added us all up and came up with \u201ctown\u201d instead of \u201cscattered locals.\u201d I can point it out to Danielle next time she tries to get me to move to Santa Barbara with her and Todd. No way. They\u2019re like cats and dogs lately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gotta get this dirt out from under my nails before I make dinner. Garden is growing good for the first time in decades. Mmm\u2026 tastes rich, like chocolate. So much better than I remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

May 2nd<\/sup>, 1994<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What\u2019s down there? I can almost hear it. Almost see it. Can feel it, for sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But what is it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve gotta find out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve got to know<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Editor’s Note: Lora Harper died on May 15th<\/sup>, 1994, at the age of 66. Her daughter Danielle Goodrich donated this diary to the art gallery shortly after her mother\u2019s death. She now resides in her parents\u2019 historic farmhouse, not far from what used to be the United States Geological Survey San Joaquin Valley Easter Regional Office.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Featured image by Erin Brown.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Goddamn those Schaefers. If I never write another word in this damn diary, let those ones be the ones that stick.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":40,"featured_media":3758,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[86,89],"class_list":["post-3295","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories","tag-first","tag-unformatted"],"yoast_head":"\nDamn Diary<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Goddamn those Schaefers. 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