Backyard Lives short story
Backyard Lives: Interactions from the
Other Side of the Gate
Carlos
Veas turned his head toward the encompassing fields around him in mid June. Driving back to his thousand acre spread; he
planned to meet with the CEO of New Growth Agricultural Services at a nearby
diner. The company primarily focused on
fertilizer mixtures for commonly grown crops.
Veas was pleased to be meeting with such a man, as his corn wasn’t
yielding as much as he expected it to.
Born
in 1964, Veas was the first of two boys raised by their father, a laborer
turned businessman and mother, who worked at a local food store. Their father, Ricardo started a farm
equipment company after saving money for many years as a plantation laborer. The business had reasonable success and after
ten years of operation, he sold it and purchased sixty acres in San Juan
Valley. Ricardo hired five laborers in
addition to his whole family working on the farm. After four years of successful operations,
the Veas’ expanded to a hundred acres with fifteen laborers. Carlos sought continued expansion, but his
brother Juan wanted a different life, and, at twenty five, left the ranch to
work as a firefighter in Bakersfield.
Ricardo
and his wife, Maria stayed on the ranch their entire lives. Carlos enjoyed the life, but felt that it
should be expanded further. This led to
arguments regarding expansion. “We have
more than enough”, Ricardo stated. “I’m
a businessman, but I know not to go beyond reason with this continued growth
mantra.” Carlos would retort, “Why not
show everyone what you’re capable of?
That would give you more respect.”
“Carlos, I have enough respect to keep me from proving to everyone what
I’m capable of. Besides, how much do
they care?”
After
the passing of Maria, and a year later, Ricardo, Carlos began to run things how
he liked. With the inherited money
combined with existing savings, he expanded at a breakneck pace of twenty acres
a month. He also leased portions of land
out to the same laborers on his field, erecting small housing units for their
stay. Carlos already had contracts with
several grocery stores and restaurants, and was continuously adding to his list
of retailers. With each new contract
came more revenue to purchase more land and laborers. This pattern continued until he acquired a
hundred and five laborers and ten supervisors for a thousand acres.
***
While
Carlos’s gains multiplied, he experienced more subtle, though no less important
losses. Nearby ranchers who remembered
Ricardo’s values of reasonable growth, excoriated Carlos for his
rapaciousness. Although he knew and felt
this, it was largely shrugged off in the hustle and bustle of daily
schedules.
Pulling
into the diner parking lot, Carlos parked next to the CEO, Jim’s truck. Once inside, he sat down at the reserved
table. “Good to see you, Jim.” “Same with you, Carlos”; they shook hands
firmly. The waitress took their orders; an
Italian sub for Jim and a turkey sandwich for Carlos. Discussion commenced; “Now, I don’t know why
my corn isn’t doing well because I’ve grown it the same way for decades without
any problems.” “No worries; I meet
farmers all the time who say exactly the same thing. After trying our fertilizer product, the
issue is entirely cleared up.” “What
makes your product different from the ones these other farmers use?” “We test which nutrients are needed most for
specific plants and add these according to the amount which grew most favorably
in our field test zones.” “How long do
you think two hundred acres of corn can be covered?” “Our team can cover it within a day, but it
must be reapplied every two weeks.”
“Great, I’ll sign up with you for the month, and if I see a difference,
a year.” “Thanks Carlos, you can expect
the most desirable results for your corn.”
After
lunch, Carlos rejoined the familiar road to his land. As his truck swallowed the miles of asphalt,
the familiar acres of nearby ranchers came to view. Of course his ranched dwarfed all others
around, the largest being three hundred acres.
The end of his neighbor’s chicken wire surrounding fifty acres marked
the start of Veas’ spread. String beans,
eggplant, corn, zucchini, crookneck squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, collard
greens, strawberries, watermelon, raspberries, peach trees, pear trees and
orange trees dotted the landscape. Carlos
waved to the few laborers who looked up from their work; most continued as if
nothing happened. With very little
traffic on this road, they’ve grown painfully accustomed to the sound of his
Sierra 2500 returning to “business as usual.” The laborers would rather he didn’t smile and
wave, as this would have at least stayed in tune with his backyard
personality. Sure, he was courteous and
kind when he had company over, but the majority of their days were filled with
Veas’ unsatisfied ramblings. His
laborers did their assigned tasks only to be criticized for not going further
on their own. He gave them enough money
for little else besides food and basic necessities. How a man with food to feed the entire county
could be so selfish was beyond their minds and the minds of those who’d known
Ricardo’s contradictory values.
Carlos
pulled into the long drive, the black iron gate opened already by his wife, Carol. She was thirty three with blond hair stopping
right at her shoulders After parking right in front of his two car
garage, he was greeted by Carol at the door.
“Hi honey, what came out of the meeting?” “I agreed to contract them for a month and
will decide whether or not to continue it based on what I see.” “That sounds fair. You don’t want to agree to long term payments
before you see results.” “No you don’t;
especially when there are many people willing to rob you with your consent.” He walked through the spacious house to the
back where he checked up with the ten supervisors. “I noticed that Donna’s been taking longer
and more frequent breaks than the others” a short, burly man stated. “Thanks for telling me; keep a close eye on
her and let me know if this continues.”
According to the rest of the supervisors, the other laborers were
“working as expected”.
It
was another day of the laborers reaping the crops and Veas reaping the
profits. Carlos went down to his in-home
office to respond to a dozen business messages left on his phone. They were from the retailers which bought his
crops wondering if they could expect “normal operations” regarding what’s
available and at what price. It would be
more or less the same as it had been since, excluding the corn, everything was
yielding well. One message, however, was
a shock: his brother Juan inviting him out to lunch tomorrow. Although Veas was busy, he knew that losing
communication with the one brother he grew up with wasn’t on the chopping
block. He picked up the phone to
respond. “Hello Juan; it’s Carlos.” “Hi Carlos, how are you?” “Good, I wanted to let you know that we can
definitely have lunch together tomorrow.”
“Wonderful. Is twelve thirty at
the diner good for you?” “That’s
perfect, I can’t wait to see you then.”
“I’m looking forward to it as well; have a good one.” “I will; goodbye.” Hanging up, Veas was anxious to connect again
with his brother. The last time they
spoke was under different conditions in a different time.
***
The
morning sun stretched its rays far enough to penetrate Carlos’ window
blinds. Heat wasn’t a question, but
taken for granted among the fruitful fields of California. It wasn’t unbearable though; more rain
wouldn’t hurt, but farmers managed to do well with their harvests the past
couple of seasons. Some saved rainwater
from the gutters, but this was more for thrift than anything else. Veas generously stretched his arms before
heading to the kitchen for his morning brew.
It was seven o clock and the laborers, along with their supervisors, were
already working the fields. Today the brothers,
distant in miles and values, would meet for a renewed connection. Carlos wore his favorite shirt, a plaid light
blue with tan khakis and Work One boots. The only “work” today would be checking up on
things, but they looked nice with his outfit.
For breakfast he made scrambled eggs and ate them with a bagel and
orange juice. Afterwards, Veas tries to
hurry the seemingly slow pace of the day by prospecting his fields from his
side by side. The rows of crops became
an integral part of his DNA. Their
functioning directly affected his life, along with the condition of the dozens
of businesses depending upon favorable outcomes. Years of over and underestimating the amounts
to plant had narrowed Carlos’ judgment in this matter. Price trends and whether patterns allowed him
to zero in on cultivating rewarding seasons.
Though the laborers’ beliefs and values ran directly against his own,
they kept quiet and performed never-ending tasks. The cycle wasn’t universally acceptable by
any means; but it was enough to sustain a multimillion dollar operation. It was enough to attract outside businesses,
win the respect of notable entrepreneurs and keep a hundred people consenting
to working the hardest and receiving the least.
At
last the time came for the long awaited meeting of the Veas brothers. Carlos hopped in his Lincoln MKZ and headed
to the diner he knew as well as his spread.
The car rode smooth, allowing Veas to take in the crops gleaming with
sunlight. He pulled into the parking lot
and parked next to his brothers ten year old F-150 and entered to meet and
converse with Juan, who, as expected arrived first and waited patiently for
Carlos to arrive.
The
Veas brothers joined at a window seat; the sun piercing through the glass. Juan began; “Hi Carlos, it’s nice to see
you.” “I’m very glad to be able to do
this with you; how’s it going?” “Oh, I’m
fine. I love my job and have ample time
to spend with my wife and son. You still
don’t have any kids?” Carlos pretended
not to care about it as much as he did; “No, my wife and I decided that between
running the business and maintaining connections with partner businesses,
there’s not much time for anything else.”
“That’s too bad. I’ve been able
to enjoy many rewarding experiences outside of work.” “Well; my wife and I chose this life and we
both feel like it’s the right decision.”
Juan could see that Carlos’ mind was on an entirely different track than
his own. “The right decision if one
solely wants more profit and expansion.
There are so many priceless opportunities which you’re missing out on in
pursuit of this frenzy.” Carlos glanced
sternly at Juan; “You can keep those “priceless opportunities to yourself”, but
I’m in a real business.” “Where has this
“real business gotten you? You’ve
tarnished Dad’s reputation of avoiding excess.”
Carlos sighed heavily; “The fact that Dad wouldn’t take on all he was
capable of isn’t my problem; I simply went further.” “Dad valued other things too. He treasured
family and good community relations instead of just darting after
dollars.” Juan explained his view; “The
reason I became a firefighter is because I value serving others in great
need. I could have stayed with you and
made out lavishly, but, like Dad, I valued these things besides wealth.” Carlos grew
angrier; “Good for you, Juan. You have a
different set of values; but don’t place yours above mine. I poured a lot of time and energy into my
business, and, lucky for me, it paid off nicely. I took a gamble; it could have worked against
me, leaving me with less than before.
The risk I took, if it teaches you anything, should make you understand
that I have courage.” Juan chuckled;
“Don’t lecture me on courage. I risk my
life, climbing into burning houses and buildings to save the lives of
others. If you had a real sense of
courage, you’d sacrifice some of your luxury to allow others less fortunate
better living conditions. Your own
laborers are stuck in poverty, with no chance of moving up in society.” Carlos’ face glowed with rage; “Juan, I came
here to have a nice lunch with my distant brother; instead you criticize me
without end. This was a disappointment
to say the least; but if you’ll excuse me, I have business to manage.” Juan watched as Carlos’ quickly got up and
began to leave; “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
Juan
saw what a charade his brother’s life was.
He dressed elaborately and drove stellar vehicles to impress businesses;
sporting brief moments of fine manners at negotiations. It was a giant lie; one that Juan knew would
stain Carlos’ life in ways already beginning to manifest themselves. This was just the tip of the iceberg.
***
Driving
back to the ranch, Carlos felt both infuriated and sad. His only brother now joined his community in
viewing him with contempt. Veas built up
a grand enterprise, but it couldn’t hide his sense of remoteness from too many
people. He pulled into the long drive
and quickly parked and exited his car. Carol
watched him from a window; “What happened?” she asked, seeing his evident
anger. “Juan lives entirely different
than me; and our feelings don’t exactly mesh well together.” “Well honey, after all, he is a
firefighter.” “I know; I just wish we
could see more things eye to eye.”
“Don’t call it quits now; you can’t let this ruin your interactions with
him.” “We’ll see about that.” Carlos stormed out back where he demanded a
report from each of the ten supervisors.
“Donna’s been resting longer again” her supervisor stated. “I’ll put an end to that” Carlos replied,
pacing with rage to her location among the eggplant. He grabbed her by the shoulders; “So, do you
want to tell me what your special case is that you need so much rest?” She eyed him firm, but carefully; “The heat
wears on my body all day, and the “rest breaks” you currently provide are of no
help whatsoever.” Carlos wrestled the
spade from her and threw it forcibly on the ground; “You’ll work like everyone
else here does, with the same amount of rest.
If not, you’ll be wishing you worked in hotter weather than experience
my punishment for you.” He turned
swiftly and marched back to his house with fury. Donna’s colleague and friend, Jose came up to
her; “If that worm touches you again, I’ll smash his head like a pumpkin. He isn’t worth the cow manure we clean out of
the stalls.” “I know; and we outnumber
him and the supervisors enough to turn things in our favor.”
The
massive house seemed to rattle with Carlos’ loathing. Carol refused to talk with him, as consoling
him was useless. It was much better to
let the hatred simmer down by itself. He
paced around his office, muttering sayings created out of his own wrath. As much as he created, expanded and improved,
he destroyed incomparably more valuable attributes with his bitterness. Veas knew that his two lives couldn’t be
pitted against each other anymore. “All
my working life I’ve been surrounded by people calling me out for being too
inconsiderate. Well, I created my
business with these same “inconsiderate” tactics; and look at me know. I have more financial wealth than anyone
around me. I took my father’s operation
and multiplied it tenfold; if that’s “inconsiderate” then so be it, but that’s
who I am.”
In
the evening, Veas answered more business calls.
Nobody on the other line could tell he had such a bad day; as he wore
politeness for a clever disguise. “I’ll
be sure to fulfill all your needs with the utmost dedication to service…” The irony was that Carlos needed a service
which no business could provide; but this was largely ignored.
As
if to send a message of its own, the sky poured down rain in buckets. Veas awoke to booming thunder echoing across
the sky. “We could use this rain”, he
thought, but the storm inside him was not welcomed. He went slowly to make his coffee and light
breakfast, (oatmeal with a banana).
Carlos stared at the fields soaking up the awaited rain, and the ominous
skies above. “We finally got that rain
you wanted”, Carol said, meeting him in the kitchen. “Yes we got it alright; I just hope we don’t
get too much of it. Once these fields
flood, the damage can last a while.”
The
day was spent checking up on relations with other businesses. Things would largely take care of themselves.
The laborers dug trenches to divert excess water from the crops as their
supervisors looked on from their quarters.
Rain or shine, the fields needed to be worked and operations must
continue. Some days where more tolerable
than others, but this was the bottom rung of the ladder. If workers caught pneumonia, they had little
options. Without health insurance, their
savings could hardly cover the cost of hospital care. Fair?
Not in the least. Means of
survival? For now, but this was
increasingly being questioned.
***
Carlos could see the sun once again
from his bed; however it was partially concealed by the clouds. The fields would gradually dry, allowing time
for the crops to drink up all remaining water.
Veas rose and began his morning pattern beginning with brewed
coffee. He ate raisin bran with orange
juice before heading out to deliver crops to nearby retailers. Carlos boxed tomatoes, beans, squash and
eggplant and put them in the back of his truck.
Pulling out of the drive, he wound down the miles he knew by heart. First up was Gorriano’s Grocery in the heart
of town. The amiable seventy-year old
owned the place since he was thirty five. “Good morning Mr. Gorriano”; Veas said as he
carried the boxes to the door. “Hey,
look who it is. I’m glad you have a nice
supply for our store. It’s nice to know
I can always count on someone.” “You can
trust me, sir. This season’s been great
overall, and I’m not one to let down my essential business partners.” “Thanks a million, and keep up the good
work.” “I will, take care now.” Next stop was to Brenner’s Lunch-In; a
popular spot where many stopped for delicious meals. “How are we today, Mr. Brenner?” “Doing great, Carlos; it’s nice to see you
again.” “Same with you, partner; I’m
just paying a service to my inherently valuable retailers.” Veas stacked the produce boxes in the front
corner of the building. “There you are;
now take care.” The last stop Carlos
made was to Rodrigo’s Mexican Grill. It
wasn’t only the name which caused irritation, but the fact that the owner,
Rodrigo, acted so much like the father Veas wanted to forget. He pulled in the spacious parking lot. “Mr. Veas; welcome once again”; the old and
tall Rodrigo said as they met outside. “Here
you are”; Carlos said as he carried the boxes in the restaurant. Rodrigo stopped Veas as he hurried toward his
truck. “I remember your father’s place
couldn’t provide a quarter what you do, but he had such a wealth of
values.” “I agree; and I’m extending and
expanding his great legacy by serving great businesses such as your own.” Rodrigo left it at that and allowed Carlos to
carry on his work. As the Sierra pulled
away, he shook his head and sighed; “It seems to me like this generation has
lost something which will leave behind a great stain of values.”
Veas drove back to the ranch and checked up with his laborer’s supervisors on the status of their conditions. He found out with contempt that Donna’s supervisor reported that; not only her, but everyone under his watch had undergone a sit-down strike. Carlos got in his side by side and raced over to their location. Upon seeing them he exploded; “Is this your way of having me cave-in to your demands? Get up!” Fortunately, his neighbor observed the scene from his side of the chicken wire; “Hey Carlos, did you ever think about how hard they work compared to you? Did you ever consider that a bare-minimum survival wage is unacceptable when you’re making millions a year?” Veas snapped; “Mind your own business; Eric. I’ll run mine the way I choose.” “If you had the decency of a fair businessman, I’d let you do as you please; but I won’t pretend you are, when you’re a filthy swine under the surface.” Carlos sprinted over to the fence and dove over the four foot high wire; tackling Eric. Once on top, he began a relentless series of blows to his head; “I’ll teach you for disrespecting me.” Veas felt a sharp thud against the back of his head. Jose pulled back his shovel as Carlos fell over, face first on the ground. Jose helped Eric up; “Thanks for that.” “He had it coming sooner or later. I wanted to stop him before things grew worse.” “Yes, I know; but they’re not exactly better”; Eric said, pointing to the rushing guards. Carlos had never armed the guards, for the fear that they’d rob him or take over the whole business. Instead, they rushed at Jose and Eric with pick handles. The men did what they knew best; ran without looking back. By now, the other laborers had stopped work, and grabbed the nearest weapon to go after the guards. In the heat of the chase, the swarm of laborers surrounded the supervisors they once feared. “We’ll give you one chance to leave peacefully”; Jose said. Without any other options, the guards dropped their clubs and headed slowly to their quarters. Carol ran out and looked in horror at her husband lying still on the ground. “Who did this?” Jose confessed. “You come with me, everyone else, get out of here!” She led him inside and called 911. “You’re deep in it now, boy”; she glared at the man. Within ten minutes, the police and ambulance arrived. “Is that the guy who hit your husband?” a young officer asked. “Yes it is.” “In order to defend me”; Eric added in Jose’s defense. The young man saw Eric’s bloody nose and the red under his eyes. “Is this true?” “Yes”, the other laborers responded in unison. “Well mam, the ambulance will take your husband to the hospital, but there’s really nothing I can do to prosecute this man.” “You’ve got to be joking. A busted up face equates to knocking someone out.” “There was no telling what he would have done. He could have prevented things from growing much worse.” Carol stormed back to the house; finally realizing that there are some things which money cannot guarantee; chief among these, a special privilege when it comes to justice.
One can spend tiresome years working to cultivate justice, but no matter how appealing the product or how credentialed the seller, it can’t be served with a false impression.
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