The Clarkl Soup Kitchens (3 page)

May 23, 2137
 

The creamed corn is better without the black bottom.

On to cole-slaw.

The Clarklians are vegetarians. If they eat at our facility, they are not vegans. We use powdered milk and various animal fats from
America
for cooking, but the Clarklians do not complain. Since no animals are ever killed for food on Clarkl, no meat is allowed in these recipes. That means I will be a vegetarian for ten years.

I called the kids today to tell them of my plans. The score was 2-1. Susan and Robbie were appalled, and Rigel was very enthusiastic. Of course, my application has not yet been approved, but the Wades were certain I would be selected.

“Why do you want to go there, Mom?” Susan asked.

I explained that my financial situation was not entirely healthy, and going to Clarkl as a member of the government’s mission there would allow me to earn money and lease the house.

“What did you do with all that insurance Dad always talked about?” she demanded.

“I paid the estate taxes, honey,” I lied.

On and on she went, demanding all the particulars. I danced around the awful truth as best I could. There is no reason to allow her to know what a fool Harry had been. I hope she will never face my worries.

May 29, 2137
 

My application was approved today for the Clarkl work. I don’t know if I should feel happy or sad. I can see no other way out of this mess.

The real estate people were elated, though. Ten years of management fees. A contractor will come tomorrow to start to plan for the repairs. The real estate office will guarantee the payment to the contractor, based on an agreement that the place will be given to them to manage. I have to sign such an agreement tomorrow.

My reservation on the spacecraft is for August 3.

June 5, 2137
 

The contractor’s people are all over the place, painting and replacing wallpaper. I wish I could move out, if only for this week.

The twins are working in
Yellowstone
National Park
for the summer, starting on June 20. They will not be able to get to
Omaha
to see me off, so we will say goodbye here, in the next few days.

I can scarcely believe I will be leaving everything behind.

I need to talk to Patsy. I have no idea of the status of her loans, even though I assumed the entire balance was part of my liabilities. I need to tell her I will not be able to help. She never heard that from Harry.

Moving forward, through the recipes.

June 11, 2137
 

The twins left for
Wyoming
today. I believe I cried more today than I did on the day of Harry’s funeral. I had always known Harry would die in some fire, but I have had very little time to get ready to leave my children.

I gave them my address for electronic messages. Messages take several days to get to Clarkl because they have to be routed through another planet, but the twins promised to write and certainly I did. When I return, they will be over thirty, nearly middle-aged.

Susan will come next month to drive me to
Omaha
. She says she would like my car, but it really was not built to meet the Canadian standards for pollution and passenger safety.

I need to talk to Patsy.

June 14, 2137
 

The real estate people have started to advertise the house as a rental unit. It certainly sounds much better when they describe it than when I think about it.

The contractor is out. The place is a warm beige all over. The lawn has been replaced, and the new grass is thick and very green.

I have started a list of things I must put in storage.

The Congregation sent instructions for what I may take along, including clothes and personal items. I have a weight limit of sixty pounds.

Three pies this week. Vegetable shortening in the dough, no butter and certainly no lard. Terrible. Crust was hard and, of course, burned on the bottom.

June 17, 2137
 

Called on Patsy today. Very delicate. The loans are about thirty days overdue, but they have been that much in arrears frequently in the two years since they were taken out. I explained, as carefully as I could, that I was not in a position to help and would not be for a number of years.

Patsy said she certainly was aware that my income was a fraction of what it had been when Harry was alive.

I did not get a comfortable feeling.

June 19, 2137
 

I rented a small storage locker today and paid ten years of fees. That took about thirty percent of my available cash. I will go down there every week with boxes.

I have to get out of the house tomorrow while the real estate people show the place to two prospective tenants.

The Batwigs are fussy eaters.

The Wolpters will eat nearly anything. I hope they like bad pie.

August 5, 2137
 

A little time to catch up with my journal today, after a very busy six weeks.

On the spacecraft now, in a tiny, tiny room with another woman. She is pleasant but not ever questioning. Whatever the Fundamentalists of Christ want her to do is very fine with her. She will be a stockroom clerk, something she has no training for. I will be a cook, and, of course, anybody who can read can cook.

Actually, the government realizes the cooks the two religious organizations send to Clarkl might need training, and a “Cooking on Clarkl” class has been developed for people on the spacecraft. It starts tomorrow.

It was an emotional farewell. Susan cried and I cried. Susan’s husband sent her with $10,000 to offer as a loan to have me change my mind. We both knew it was not a loan but only a lien on her inheritance. The boys, as of today, would have no inheritance if I had accepted.

But she is a dear girl, and I am very proud to be her mother. She is a good wife and a good schoolteacher.

The house seems to be in prudent hands. The real estate firm will pay my bills as part of the management agreement. Actually, the security deposit the tenants gave us has paid off the contractor, so I am moving toward being free and clear.

How happy I feel on this spacecraft! I have left all my money worries back on Earth. I have only to follow the Congregation’s instructions for ten years and I will be back at home and set for life. At the age of 57 or 58.

But back to the spacecraft. It took off from
Omaha
just two minutes late, with seven decks filled with various types of travelers. Of course, government employees, as the Congregation’s people are, got the most modest of the accommodations. I have not ventured to the higher decks yet, but I have seen the slick brochure about the craft that was on top of the dresser in my stateroom. Some suites are very elaborate, with large bathrooms and private dining rooms. Others, such as mine, are tiny with shared bathrooms.

There were many tender scenes at the spaceport, with people, both men and women and both travelers and nontravelers, tearful, some sobbing. This, of course, is no short jaunt. Even if a traveler were just going to Clarkl and immediately returning, the trip would take over seven months.

As soon as I got settled, though, I forgot the sadness of leaving and remembered the great adventure ahead.

August 17, 2137
 

The training has started, and I am learning how to cook. How incomplete my efforts at self-education have been! It is much better to see something being done, to try it yourself, to be corrected.

I learned the value of an oven at the correct temperature. You cannot expect to bake for less time at a higher temperature and have things come out eatable.

The meals here are exactly what we will be serving the Clarklians. Thirty dishes only. Already I am bored, and I have another ten years to go.

However, we have had some of the wickenberries that are used in two of the dishes. These berries are native to Clarkl and are cultivated by the Congregation because they are easy to grow and easy to digest. Full of vitamins, too, if the government can be believed.

There has been success with pineapples, too. In fact, about thirty percent of the pineapples now sold in
America
come from Clarkl. Hawaiian pineapples are still more desirable, but many of those trees are under water after the floods of the 2020s and the 2120s. I found out the Clarkl pineapples are all from Hawaiian trees, transplanted to the warmest parts of the Clarkl planet.

August 29, 2137
 

Still enjoying the relaxing ride to Clarkl in this old spacecraft.

The roommate remains pleasant, but she is very into religion. She reads her Bible, with her finger under the lines, from morning to night. The text is sometimes black and sometimes red, and I wonder what that means. Sometimes she moves her lips, as if she wants to try to say the words.

We have been through all thirty recipes. I have become the vegetable stock expert, a dubious distinction. Everybody else debates technique with the instructor. I have no conversation of interest to anybody in the cooking class.

The men, such as they are, work on farming principles. Cultivating the Clarkl ground is very difficult, and each spacecraft contains potting soil and the like from Earth, to be used in the ever-enlarging tracts of American farms on Clarkl. This craft also contains enormous bags of vegetable seeds.

Pumpkins are the next frontier. Everybody is talking pumpkins and pumpkin growing and pumpkin recipes. Those with the loudest voices assure me pumpkins are very cost-beneficial, with little labor and plenty of harvest.

I have not volunteered to bake a pumpkin pie.

September 4, 2137
 

I received my first messages from Earth today, brief notes from the twins in
Wyoming
and Susan in
Canada
.

The twins are having a good time waiting on tables and meeting the girls in the employee housing. Susan has no news of any kind. It makes me wonder what she is not telling me.

The Fundamentalists are having meetings right after supper every day. Of course the Congregation has nothing more to discuss after the classes are over.

My roommate has told me the Congregation is full of defrocked Roman Catholic priests, still calling themselves ministers. The RCs are down to a very small number of American communicants, and the priests had to be reassigned to
Africa
or be let go. My roommate knows for certain the Reverend Wade was a monsignor. I wonder where he picked up a wife? Pre-monsignor or post-monsignor? That’s probably why he has so many new clothes.

My roommate also assures me the Congregation’s clergy keep most of the money they receive from the government for the Clarkl slave trade. The Fundamentalists, on the other hand, use the money for God’s work, whatever that may be.

Talk has moved onto sweet potatoes and yams. There are some places on Clarkl where the climate is right for growing these vegetables, and one of the objectives for 2138 is to try to get a good crop. Two yam recipes are being tested this week.

I remain the butt of many cooking jokes, but I try to laugh along with the others. It is very obvious to everybody that I am no cook, but I work as hard as anybody else. I am nearly the youngest person going to Clarkl on this craft for work, and I guess I am forgiven. In my favor is the fact that I have a knack for being able to get one thing started while another thing is cooking. Many of the others have a hard time with that. Thinking about it, maybe that’s why I burn nearly everything.

September 27, 2137
 

The roommate is not as friendly now. I think the daily pep rallies the Fundamentalists are having has taken a toll on her loving kindness.

Certainly the New Christian Congregation is a very loose group. Our only tie that binds is our agreement to work with each other and with the forepersons on Clarkl to fulfill the government’s contract. We have no common faith. The papers I signed had no faith-based affirmations.

It would be better to separate the two groups for these flights, just as we are separated on Clarkl.

On the other hand, maybe I snore so loudly she has had no sleep in a month.

October 5, 2137
 

I still am no great cook, but I have made progress. I have passed inspection on twenty-two of the thirty recipes. The eight that remain involve tricky procedures such as making a pie crust without rolling it out four or five times.

The Clarklians are fond of fruit, and the pineapple trees are nearly worshiped. The Congregation has attempted to train a number of Clarklians, mostly Seekers, to tend these trees, but interest flags.

In the hold of this ship are a number of citrus trees. Orange trees have done well on Clarkl, and now we will try grapefruit.

Apples are very popular with the natives, but the Clarkl climate may not have whatever apples need. Each spacecraft brings many pounds of dried apple chips, and several of the recipes use these as optional or alternate ingredients. I have heard that when an apple dish is on the buffet, word spreads like wildfire and the natives nearly storm the dining room.