Tracy McGrady's lived in this house for a while now, but he hesitates to call it home. It's not that he doesn't want to call the place home, but he can see the writing on the wall. For years now, the mines have cut back on the number of shifts a man can work, and, recently, Tracy's noticed that even the smokestacks at the Y.A.O. Power Plant don't burn as long as they once did. The whole town is shutting down, and Tracy, with his push broom in hand, wonders if he's the only one that sees it.
Four years ago was the worst day of Tracy's life. He was in tunnel seven of the B mine when the supports gave out and collapsed. There were no warnings to foreshadow the accident that made that day his last as a coal miner. One minute he was standing, and the next minute he was buried alive under coal, timber, and bedrock. Since then, his back and knees can't pass a physical, so he gets by off the meager wage he receives for sweeping the sidewalks and streets of a dying town.
In the morning, he watches the men walk east to the edge of town where the mines are, and, in the afternoon, he watches the sun set over their children as they play football in their backyards.
"Hey, Ariza, what are you gonna do when you grow up?" shouts Aaron.
"Same thing you and Scola are gonna do," laughs Trevor Ariza, as if the question was a stupid one, "work in the mines."
The scene makes Tracy want to break his broom over his knee, pound his chest, beat his fists against the wall, scream at the sky, and howl at the moon, but all he can muster are a few tears, as he notices how the time of day has engulfed the coal mine in shadows.
1 comments:
I can just hear Adelman now "You poured garbage on me, my wife and my little girl. "
September 28, 2009 at 6:29 PMPost a Comment