Stories from the Maple Tree

Wrote this a LONG time ago and just found it on my computer today....
(c) QE3 2005


Farm Girl Zine
Stories from the Maple Tree

My name is Patrik O’Harris, I’m fourteen years old and I live in Michigan, about 12 miles west of Saline. There, my parents and older brother enjoy the chaotic life of raising livestock, their award winning pumpkin patch, apple orchard, and the five acre ocean of sunflowers they grow as the main attraction in their small florists shop. I on the other hand take pride in much simpler pleasures: my zine, the big maple tree out front, and Sally Mae, the runt of the litter of pigs who I raised all on my own. It is from her that I get my inspiration, as I write you these letters, sitting in the big maple tree out front, enjoying the quiet serenity of my zine writing.

For the purposes of my zine, I think you should know that I don’t go by Patrik but by Patty. Sally Mae helps me with my writing a lot too, so I decided to include her name in my pseudonym (pen name) therefore creating the name: Patty and Maexxx

As it would probably surprise you to know, I write all this on a typewriter, not a computer as some would assume. I could have a computer, I have a television set, but my parents (and I for that matter) feel that we don’t need tehnolodgy to get by. We have eachother, and our beautifu house, and I have Sally Mae.

It’s not that we’re poor either, we make a lovely sum of money for all that we do, we just don’t feel the need to spend it on computers or cellular phones or fancy cameras. We spend our money on our pigs, or cattle dogs, or on seeds for our orchard. And then we always have some set aside for Christmas Day, and Thanksgiving. Those are our rule-breaker days. On those days we can have anything we want. Take if you will, my television set for example. When do you think I came across her?

Then there’s our feasts. Since we grow our own foods (as I mentioned before we have livestock, apples, and pumpkins, but there’s also, grapes for wine, and wheat for bread, Mama’s vegetable garden, Pa’s chickens, and my Brother, Jimmy’s fishin’ pond.) As you can see we have more than enough food, that’s why we take the majority of it to town and sell it to others who are less fortunate or otherwise too lazy to grow their own. Of course we always save plenty for ourselves, but a little too often the townsfolk get the sweeter batch of apples, or the plumper pumpkin.

But it’s all different on our Celebration Days. For weeks ahead of time my Pa and Jimmy work harder than ever to make sure we have enough food for our feasts and for the town’s. Even I get pulled into the mess. (Not that I don’t help already, of course I do, but this is different.) There’s hundreds of pies to be baked, juices and ciders to be prepared, steaming hot turkeys arriving out of the oven every hour of the day. And oh, I just can’t wait! As Jimmy and I toss and turn in our beds at night the wind picks up the delicious beginnings of the feasts and we fall asleep to dreams of running along a grand gaint’s table like in Jack and the Bean Stalk. There’s so much food to taste and so little time before we wake up!

That’s another thing I love about my simple life: Jimmy. He’s two and 3/4 years older than myself, but he treats me equal. That’s the deal with us, we grew up together, went to school together, and we’ve always been best friends. We find joy in the simpleist things, running through the Sunflower Ocean, riding our horses through the vineyards, climbing the old windmill that sits at the edge of our property where it seems as if you can see the whole world layed out before you if you look from the tippy-top.

That’s on the sunny days. When it rains we have other things to do. We curl up by the fire, and read books or tell stories. Jimmy always has the best stories. I tell him he should make his own zine, but he always laughs and says, “Oh kiddo.” That’s the only time he ever acts the eldest, but I don’t mind.
He has the best stories because he’s been to town much more than I have. He’s seen the people, eaten at all the resturaunts, and even seen a movie or two at the theaters. Of course I’ve probably seen the same ones with my television, but Jimmy says the theater is even better.

My town is like the one is Gilmore Girls. Small, cozy, where everyone knows everyone else. My house is right outside the town. It’s big and grand and has many rooms because my Mama loves children. She and Pa met while they were young, then they had Jimmy and me and we grew up. But Jimmy and I’ve always loved the idea of a little sister or brother and Mama does too, so maybe it’ll happen.
Sometimes, when we’ve heard talk around the town that a child has been misbehavin’ or has run away, Mama will go and invite the child to stay with us for a while. And that child will always say yes, because everyone loves Mama. Though she is young and beautiful, she is also very wise. She is also perhaps the best cook in town. And she can solve problems. “That child may come to us a sour apple,” she says, “But he’ll leave here a perfect angel.”

My Pa is also very young and handsome. He has strong hands and a strong jawbone, but a gentle smile, and loving hug. He is a builder, and he fixes things around town. But what people don’t know is that he is a poet too.
He says that’s where I got my talent. He says I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil, that’s why he encourages me to write this zine. And every few weeks he takes a couple in to town with him and comes back with the sweetest bundle of roses for me and tells me I’m a big hit with the townsfolk.
---Patty and Maexxx
❁

September 9, 2006-
This week we’ve been busy. School has started up and as we move up in the grades our papers seem to come rushing in even faster than before. I attend Saline Middle, and Jimmy attends Saline High. I wake up early in the mornings because I have to be at school by 7:40 am. Then the last bell rings at 2:33pm and I get to come home again. I have made friends at my school but I miss Jimmy. He goes to a school a little farther away but has the same hours as I do. For some reason though he keeps coming home later and later.
Patty and Maexxx---


September 11, 2006
A very sad day. I’d prefer not to write, but remember and pray.
(As a side note though, Jimmy’s been away all day again and I can’t help but wonder why.)
---Patty and Maexxx


September 14, 2006
I am not happy. I have been in a mood all day and it is not a good mood. Jimmy stayed out til nearly nine o’clock last night with a girl. Not just any girl but Rita Clark. She’s in my grade and goes to my school. We do not get along. She is rich because her grandfather was, I have money because I worked hard for it. She is popular because she is pretty, I am pretty too but no one would ever call me popular. She wears fancy designer names, has two computers, and three television sets. I have nice clothes but they are not designer, I have no computers and only one television set. She has friends, I had Jimmy. Had.
Patty and Maexxx---


September 15, 2006
I talked to Jimmy today, Mama talked to Jimmy today, Pa sat quietly and disappointedly on the couch. Jimmy has been neglecting his chores and sschool papers. He has been seeing this girl too often in my opinion, and “Needs to get his priorities straight” in Mamas. I simply cannot believe him.
---Patty and Maexxx

Setptember 15, 2006—later
Jimmy met me by the fishin’ pond today, I wrote down our converatsion. He didn’t notice.

Jimmy: Hey Patty.
I avoided him. I was writing a poem and frankly, I was very mad at him.

Jimmy: Listen, I know you’ve been upset with me lately and I just wanted to say, you have every right. I’ve been away too often, I haven’t been listening to you, I’ve been. . . preoccupied, to say the least.
Me: Uh, huh.
Jimmy: But you have to understand. She’s amazing, she’s beautiful, smart, nice, and she fell for a guy like me! Me!
Jimmy was practically jumping for joy in his skin right now. I glowered angrily at the pond.

Me: I can’t believe you Jimmy. One girl, who I’ve told you all about over the past few years, How I;ve despised her, how you’ve despised her and all it took was her batting thise eyelashes and you run off with her! Can’t you see what she’s doing to you? She made fun of us so many times, her father takes us for granted. Ecverytime Pa offers a favor he puts him to work like a mule. And Mama, the ridicule she’s been through from that family. All because they’re jealous! So they just get away with saying we’re only “stupid, dirty, farm people” and move on!
I was practically sobbing now. Jimmy looked as if he’d been slapped across the face.
Jimmy: But she’s so pretty. . .
Me: But Jimmy! She’s not! Her face may be but her heart is as cold and cruel as stone. And you just. . . leave us all for her.

Patty and Maexxx---

September 19, 2006
That was it. Jimmy moved out. I have no clue why but he did. He just left. Left for Rita and her stuck-up, high class, computer owning family. Pah! But who am I to judge? If that;s what makes him happy, it should make me happy for him. How bad have I been to him?

On the other hand, how bad has he been to us?

❁

Article I:
What to do if Your Older Brother Starts Dating a Girl Your Dislike

Let’s say that, hypothetically speaking of course, you have a brother. And one day, said brother starts to like a girl you know, and don’t love. Then, against every thought you’ve tried to put into his thick head this hypothetical brother runs off with said worst ememy-girl. What should you, hypothetically, do?

1) Stop using the word hypothetically. And don’t be ashamed! This happens to lots of very important, successful people. Or at least, one little farm girl from Michigan known as Patty and Maexxx. (a.k.a. the writer of this zine)
2) Try talking (and not yelling) to your brother. Tell him you’re hurt by his decision, but you respect him and know that (eventually) he’ll make the right choice. Hint strongly that the right choice is the one you were suggesting all along.
3) Talk to the girl he’s currently with. Who knows, you may find something you have in common (don’t count on it) and become friends (in your dreams!). But still, it’s worth a shot.
3) Let it go. If you really feel this strongly that they weren’t meant to be then they probably weren’t. Sit, back, and relax. Everything’ll be fine.

---Patty and Maexxx




I'm two quarters and a heart down
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds
These words are all I have so I'll write them
So you need them just to get by

Dance, Dance
We're falling apart to half time
Dance, Dance
And these are the lives you'd love to live
Dance, this is the way they'd love
If they knew how misery loved me

---Fall Out Boy
Comments: Jimmy once got a discman for Christmas and whenever we went to town we’d buy all kinds of CDs, this was one of the first we bought…

The sun’s setting before the day has even began;
the scarecrow snoozing on the job;
and the sunflowers,
precious sunflowers have turned gray and cold
because the world is growing sad, and morning
the depth of your destruction.
Desertion.
Why?
---Patty and Maexxx
Coments: Written the day we got the letter from Jimmy saying he wasn’t coming home but rather running off with the she-witch.

I was at breakfast when it happened. Buttered toast, fresh strawberries, and a ham and tomato omelette. Pa came running into the kitchen where Ma stood fixing his coffee and for herself, a cup of strong tea. He handed the letter first to Mama. She stood wide-eyed with her hand over her mouth.
“What’s happened?” I asked, as horrible thoughts ran through my head. “Where’s Jimmy?” I whispered, more to myself than to Pa and Mama. They exchanged worried glanced, debating over showing me the letter. I stood up in my seat. “Where’s Jimmy?” I demanded, angry and afraid. Mama carefully handed over the letter. Pa gestured for her to join him out on the porch. Mama was holding back tears, I could tell. I held the letter stiffly in my hands. What was wrong? I asked myself, afraid to open the letter and find out.
When I did open it, it read:

Family.

Right away I hated that word. Well, the way it was used. Letters from Jimmy usually came addrerssed “My dearest family”, or “My loving family,” or, “to those whom I love with all my heart.” The single word “family” seemed so business-like and stiff.

Family,
In these past few weeks I have often thought about this, probably it will be the most important decision of my life. It brings me pain to say it,

No, Jimmy. If it brought you pain you wouldn’t have abandoned us. You wouldn’t have abandoned me.

but I fee it is time that I moved on with my life. My life, and Rita’s. I hope you know that we have been dating fr around a month and I cannot tell you o the joys she has brought to me. She is beautiful, smart, and oh so kind. Her parents too have been genr=erous to me in inviting me to stay in their guest house while plans are being made for our engagement.

At this point I dropped the paper right onto the floor. Engaged? Jimmy couldn’t be engaged! He was barely seventeen, and Rita, well. . . Now that I thought about it Rita wasn’t very smart, it was possible she could have been left-back in school. Yes, as I thought about it I did recall her being---18?? Rita was left back three years at least and here Jimmy was practically bragging about how smart she was. An older woman ina younger grade? The thought almost struck me as funny. Almost. I was more, at thius point annoyed. I picked up the letter off the floor.

My dearet, beautiful Rita will soon be 18 as will I. And as I hope you all are not too stupid enough to notice, we will then be aged enough to wed. The though! Me, married to Rita Clark! Excuse me dearly, I meant Rita O’Harris. Anyways, I must say I was discusted with your previous behavior but feel the need to give you all a second chance. Rita dearest and I would love to invite you a splendid brunch this coming Saturday. Please bring the child, Rita tells me they are precious friends.
Sincerely,
James O’Harris

Dearest Rita? Bring the child? Precious friends? Big, angry tears welled up in my eyes. Since when was he “Mr. Proper”? His snotty accent made me sick. And James O’Harris? That wasn’t even his name! His name was Jimmy. That’s what it said on his birth certificate, his license, that’s who he was in our hearts. So who was James? Some snotty, too good for us person about to be married, move out, and forget about us all, that’s who.
Well two could play at that game. I’d jut have to forget about him first.

The only prolem is I didn’t think I could do that. . .

---Patty and Maexxx
❁

Brunch. A snotty time for rich people to get together and make fun of the rest of us during breakfast and lunch. A time for low-carb foods and zero-calorie snacks. Oh, joy.
“Patty, darling!” Rita exclaimed, opening the heavy oak doors the second I had rung the doorbell. “Kiss, kiss!” She chortled, pecking me on each cheek. I flinched only slightly, and managed to continue glaring at her. “Why, oh my.” She looked me thuroghly up and down. “What are you wearing, dear?”
I couldn’t help but look down at myself. I had on a faded pair of purple Old Navy cordoroy jeans, a plain white tank top and crocheted scarf around my neck. I didn’t know what you wore to brunch so I put on something comfortable, is that a crime? I shrugged.
“Oh, well, not to worry. You look fab in anything dear.” She smiled a fake, and disitinctly I’m-better-than-you smile and waved me inside with her hand.
Apparantly rich people didn’t eat breakfast or lunch but combined the two into brunch to cut down on the amount of food they had consume but still left thejm feeling full (“Yet not bloated, so we can still keep our perfect figures.”) There was more but I was so incredibly bored throughout Rita;s speech eventually I just stopped paying attention. I seemed to grasp the main point though: Rita and her rich/perfect family don’t eat so they can maintain their expensive/perfect figures. Even Jimmy refused the last sour dough roll when I passed him the basket! I also heard him telling Pa that instead of doing work around town and on the farm like (I cannot stand him!) “commoners”, he’s now going to the gym four times a week.
I was caught in a spider web of such deep loathing and hurt that I didn’t notice when a small girl, around the age of twelve, maybe thirteen, strode into the room. She she had been doing a good job of making herself scarcely heard or seen until a little ecough, either purposely or not, escaped her throat. Rita looked up, dramatically rolling her eyes. Then she stood up with a smile so big and bright I’d wondered what it was rich people really ate at brunch: Stars? Rita certainly hadn’t touched her food and she had such a large mouth and horesy laugh that for all I know she could have been sucking then out of the sky every time she spoke!
“Casandra, precious! Where have you been? Wouldn’t you like to meet our,” she looked at me and moved her tongue over her teeth as if she had the point of one of the stars she’d eaten still stuck in her mouth. “Our wonderful. . . friends. Jimmy’s family!” she announced, grasping the girl’s shoulders and steering her into the chair across from mine.
“Hello,” I reched out my hand kindly, willing her to shake it. (Or was she one of those “Kiss, kiss!” people?) “My name’s Patrik, I’m Jimmy’s sister.” I pointed down the table at my brother. Then I blushed, of course she already knew who Jimmy was! “You can call me Patty if you’d like.” I offered when she didn‘t respond.
She shook my hand gingerly, “Thank you, Patty. You may call me, Cassie.” Her voice like her hand shake, was gentle and even a little tired, sad.
I wasn’t one of the girls at school who’d just stand around and look people up and down all day critising your outfit or “last month’s shoes” but with Cassie I couldn’t help it. She was dressed proudly, like Rita, but there was something much sweeter about her. Where Rita took too much time getting dressed everyday, Cassie seemed to just put on whatever was in her closet. (Which just happened to be nice.) Rita had thin hair and a bad perm where Cassie had thick hair and long, beautiful curls. Cassie had a very nice smile, and gentle smile lines, Rita had none of the above. Her smile was an I’m-trying-too-hard smile and she had harsh frown lines around the corners of her mouth and the crease between her perfect brows. Both girls were blond, and their eyes were set close together, but somehow both features looked better on Cassie.
Cassie must have seen me looking at her because she responed as if she’d been slapped, “My sister’s the pretty one!”

“What?” I sputtered. Cassie blushed.
“Would you mind coming outside with me?” We already were outside but I didn’t feel like arguing. I nodded, but raised my eyebrow as if to ask, Won’t they noice?
Cassie shook her head, took my hand and led me silently back into the main brunch room, out into the hall, and down a large flight of stairs that I guessed led to the kitchens. She continued to lead me farther and farther away from our families. Outside and towards a tall maple tree, much like my own boardering the edge of the woods.
I expertly swung myself up onto the nearest branch and dangled my feet. Cassie did the same. For the first time I realized that under her crisp, fancy skirt, she had on a pair of faded jeans.
Cassie laughed, shedding her skirt and showing off the jeans in their full glory. She had a nice laugh.
“I’m not like the rest of them,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back on the trunk of the tree. “And you aren’t either. I knew that from the minute I saw you. Rita talks about you, you know. She is jealous, oh yeah!” I liked listening to her talk. Cassie turned towards me her eyes wide and searching. “You know what I want? To be away from all this. To be able to eat what I want, when I want it. To be able to do what I want whenever I want to do it!” she sighed longingly, “But with a life like this. Real happiness, real fun, it doesn’t come cheap.”
“I hate to break it to you Cassie, but nothing in your world comes cheap.” I hated the words the moment I’d spoken them, I’d never meant to insult Cassie. Did I? Would she hate me now?
No, Cassie only laughed. “You’re funny Patty. I like you.” She had her eyes closed again and her head leaned back. I ould see her fighting off a smile. “So tell me, what is there to do for fun at your place?”
So I told her. About my zine, Sally Mae, and the endless sunflowers. And even though it wasn’t caviar and fancy brunches, Cassie seemed really interested. She even asked if she could come over and see one of my zines. I told her yes, and “Cassie, I’ll even put you in one of zines if you want!” At this Cassie was really excited. She promised to come over around dinner time tomorrow.
As I left her house later that day, I couldn’t help but think, Cassie and I could be real good friends.
And you know what, I think we will be.
--- Patty and Maexxx