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Journal Entry from the Dust Bowl

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I am from Amarillo, Texas not too east from here. We've been travelin' for the past 6 weeks now stoppin' and startin' again looking for work. The jobs must not pay much because my pa keeps on looking for work. Cause here we are, living in an open field along the 87 Arizona highway. In Roswell, we picked cotton for a while, but there was barely any left after so many people came. Usually, our mother has us help pick cotton, but my fingers get tired. We live right now in this trailer with only room for beds, but not all the furniture. We leave everythin else we use in the car or by the side of the trailer out of the hot sun. It makes it easier to leave when we don’t unpack everythin'.

Our house is full between my mother, father, my older sister, brother and me. We try to stay in the trailer but its just fallin' apart into the tarp, wood and nails. There’s nothing really for us to do out here except wait to leave when the car is ready. We are heading back to Amarillo to pick more cotton and make money. I’ll just sit here while my brother and sister find something to do in the house for fun. No one really feels like playing because we are hungry and tired.

Our father walked off to find a store that sells water jugs because we can’t carry none water with us. I would rather get some milk, but my mother said we won’t be able to store it. I said I could just hold it and drink a little, but she says we really can’t. I really want more than fried dough and a potato. At least when we get water we can move on and see the ocean soon.





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