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Chapter Forty-One: Good Stock
- Red Hen Press
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135 Chapter Forty-one Good Stock “You don’t understand these things, but Tim’s family comes from a different stock. His family ain’t going to like you and it isn’t gonna be because of something you do or how you look. Just stay home. Tim will be back in August.” “What are we, Ma? A herd of cows?” I ask, regretting this conversation and where it’s going to lead. “Yeah. They’re Holsteins.” “And I’m just a low quality milking cow, nothing else?” “Not to me, but to them you are. Jerseys are good. Holsteins just think they’re better. You’re seventeen and you think Tim’s gonna be the guy you marry, but it won’t happen. You just graduated from high school. He’s going to college. Tim ain’t gonna stay in Michigan. His family’s in New York.” “I ain’t gonna stay in Michigan all my life,” “No, I’m sure you won’t, but as nice as Tim is, you ain’t gonna be marrying him.” I’m going to spend my one week vacation in Schenectady and prove my mother wrong. She’ll see that people with money and education view me as a person, not as a milking cow. Tim’s mother is a preschool teacher and his father’s away on a business trip. I wear my nicest clothes and offer to help with all the chores, but I can tell his mother isn’t impressed by me. She’s always correcting her two youngest children’s grammar, looking at me as if I need the same lessons. My last night there I’m lying in my bed, waiting for Tim to sneak in, and I hear his mother say, “If you keep dating that girl, we’re not going to pay for your tuition. We’re paying all that money to send you to a private college and you date a local girl who’s not even going to go to college. What is wrong with you?” “I’ll talk to her about going to school, Mother.” “You’re not going to be able to change her mind. Education doesn’t mean anything to those kind of people.” When Tim sneaks into my room, I say nothing about what I’ve heard. Maybe I’ll enroll in a few college classes, but I’d rather work as a teacher’s aide. 136 Burning Tulips I return home and say nothing that would confirm my mother’s fears. She’s relieved I’m home and reminds me to send a gift and note to Tim’s mother. A week later, Tim writes me a brief letter: “How could you write ‘I want to thank all of youse’? What if the president invited us to his house and you sent that as your thank-you note?” Then he goes on to explain why “youse” is incorrect, and I wonder how I got through high school without learning that, then remember the sneers I received when I said things wrong at his house. My mother sees me crying and I show her the letter. “That fool ain’t gonna be invited to the president’s house. And if he is, let him write his own damn thank-you notes. Those people are clods. Not one word from his mother saying thanks to you for those nice candlestick holders. If you ask me, you’re too good for Tim. At least you got good manners and care about people. You dump him before he dumps you. His mother’s gonna be pressuring him. Make life easy on yourself. Date someone who works at a factory. Deep down, I know my mother’s right. I will get dumped. Not only does my mother want to prevent me from getting hurt, she’s worried I’ll cross that fence, that fence I fear I’ll never cross, and join the Holsteins, thinking I’m too good for my family. But I want to prove her wrong. Show her that we are people, not cattle, and I’ll never think I’m too good for my family, even if I do get a college education. But when I get dumped, not only will I be devastated, but his mother will have won over my mother, another blue-ribbon victory for the Holsteins , another loss for the blue-collars. A loss my mother seems to already know. A loss improved grammar wouldn...