Epilogue To Brussel Sprouts

“Elizabeth, dear, do you see your father or brother coming up the lane?” my mother asked me from the kitchen. “No, Mother,” I replied, looking out the window and going back to playing with Anna, “Most of the ladies are outside talking though.” With a firm command to watch the soup and wiping her hands on her apron, she headed outside, where she started talking with them. The soup smelt terrible, because Mother used the ingredients she could buy with George’s and Father’s pay, which included turnips, brussel sprouts, and potatoes. Potatoes I didn’t mind, but I hated brussel sprouts and turnips, however, Mother hated when we complained and Father always spanked us. Closing the door behind her, Mother said, “Elizabeth, none of the other wives

I looked up from my picture and said, “I’m drawing Anna and I playing with dolls. What are you drawing?” Holding up a messy picture that had two people figures on it, Emma said, “I’m drawing Daddy and I by the fire,” and promptly started sobbing. Looking at Ms. Clara, I whispered, “I don’t think this is a good idea. They are all going to start crying.” “I think you are right,” she replied, sighing, “Class, forget about that. We are going to learn today.” Class passed uneventful, until moms started coming in and taking their kids out. Finally, Mother came to get us, saying, “Please excuse us, Ms. Clara. The mine owners have found out some things.” At the mine, Mr. Johnson, the mine owner, was standing on a wooden box. “Ladies, last night there was a mine accident. Numerous men were killed, however we won’t have a total count until the rest of the men are found,” he said. Shrieks erupted as moms collapsed on their children. “Does this happen regularly?” asked a voice, and everyone looked to see a boy about nineteen, sitting on a horse. “Who are you?” asked someone. “I am the new constable, Daniel

to replace the other one who quit,” he replied and dismounting, he walked over to Mr. Johnson, and asked him, “Does this happen regularly?” “No sir,” Mr. Johnson said, “this is our first accident in 10 or 15 years.” “Liar!” Mother yelled, “my husband was injured in an accident three months ago and was out of work for a month!” Daniel turned to look at her and the other women. “Is that true?” he asked them, “Have you had an accident recently or have been accident free for 10 or 15 years.” Mrs. Walker said, “Constable, I can backup Mrs. Smith’s story. In March, my husband and son came home from the mine, but my husband’s leg was broken and Carter was traumatized. They both had to go back to the mines because we rely on their salary to live, but they knew that the minds are unsafe. Mr. Johnson doesn’t care if his workers are safe or not. He only cares if his mine produces enough coal. Even if that means that his workers work longer hours and work in a not safe environment, he doesn’t care!” A man covered in coal dust came up to Mr. Johnson and murmured a number. Nodding, Mr. Johnson announced, “Ladies, we have the totals. There were 150 dead, 50 survivors and of that 50, 40 were wounded.” Everyone rushed towards the mine, looking for their husbands and