Tuesday, April 1, 2008
April Fool’s Day.
11:18-26, 12:05-12:13, 1:36-1:51
What a fun day, I used to love this day when I was a kid to play jokes on people and have a blast. Oh well, you grow up and can’t think of any good jokes. So, back to seriousness.
O.k. So today I was about to say that I was finished editing this story. I was about to say that I cannot think of ANY MORE to revise, even though my friend said that I need more description. I felt like I couldn’t give any more to this story. Well, today I read yet another chapter out of The Revision Toolbox by Georgia Heard and I now think that I could do more. She gave an idea of have someone read the story outloud to me or me read it into a tape and then listen to it played back to myself without looking at the words. Listen to what the story needs from a more removed position. Second idea, as I listen to the story read outloud, try to draw the scene. Compare my “vision” of the scene with what the words actually say. Are my words as descriptive as what is in my mind? What can I add to the story to make it better?
I think that these activities will help me in my revision because maybe I can better see how I can add descriptive detail to the scenes. Here we go. . . I must go find an old cassette tape. Or can I record it on my computer? I bet I could . . .
Old ending:
After John returned home from the war they both operated city buses but they eventually changed jobs to driving dump trucks instead. One cold grey morning, Joyce drove just outside of Dallas to Copelle, a small town with a train depot, where carefully, without tipping the truck over, she backed her truck onto a small platform that overhung the boxcars down below. Although this task was difficult, Joyce was not afraid to do this because she knew that she was very skilled. After Joyce finished dumping her truck she parked her vehicle and stood by the coffee stand with the other drivers, all men. A bearded guy, wearing a flannel shirt and overalls turned to the group.
“That the platform is too narrow for my truck. I will have to go somewhere else to dump my load. It’s a shame I drove all the way out here for nothing.” He said.
“I can do it.” Joyce found her self saying aloud. She knew she would be able to steer his truck onto the skinny platform.
“You? A woman? You think you can drive my big truck onto that narrow platform? It can’t be done and you’ll make a fool of yourself if you try.” The man answered.
“Then I’ll show you and we’ll see who’s the fool.” Joyce retorted and before the man could answer she jumped into his truck and began to carefully guide it where it had never gone before. All the men stared.
“It can’t be done. And you‘ll pay for my truck when you mess it up!” The bearded doubter yelled after her.
But Joyce showed him it could. She skillfully backed it up with only a few small inches of leaway on each side of the tires. She dumped the load. All of the men stood in utter disbelief, mouths gaping open. But after the men shook their surprise, they began to harass the bearded guy who doubted it could be done. Joyce jumped out of the truck and glided back to the group, triumphant. From then on no one doubted what a Joyce could accomplish.
New Ending
The sun was high in the big Texas sky one scorching hot Summer day. By the 1950’s John and Joyce had long since changed jobs to driving dump trucks instead of city buses. Air conditioners were rare in dump trucks back then, so after carefully dumping the contents of her truck off a small platform that overhung boxcars down below Joyce parked her vehicle and stood by the refreshment stand with the other drivers in hopes a gentle breeze would whisk away the heat. She and the men sipped ice cold Coca-Colas before heading back for another load. After a few minutes a thin, bearded guy wearing denim overalls and a smirk joined to the group.
“That the platform is too narrow for my truck. I will have to go somewhere else to dump my load. It’s a shame I drove all the way out here for nothing.” He said.
“I can do it.” Joyce found her self saying aloud. She knew she would be able to steer his truck onto the skinny platform. Although this task was difficult, Joyce was not afraid to do this because she knew that she was very skilled.
“You? A woman? You think you can drive my big truck onto that narrow platform? It can’t be done and you’ll make a fool of yourself if you try.” The man answered.
“Then I’ll show you and we’ll see who’s the fool.” Joyce retorted and before the man could answer she jumped into his truck and began to carefully guide it where it had never gone before. All the men stared.
“It can’t be done. And you‘ll pay for my truck when you mess it up!” The bearded doubter yelled after her.
But Joyce showed him it could. She skillfully backed it up with only a few small inches of leaway on each side of the tires. As she dumped the load all of the men stood in utter disbelief, mouths gaping open. After the men shook their surprise, they began to harass the bearded guy who doubted it could be done. Joyce jumped out of the truck and glided back to the group, triumphant. From then on no one doubted what a Joyce could accomplish.
Final Story
On August 20, 1921 a little baby girl entered the world on a small rural farm in Martha, Oklahoma. The first child of Barney and Beaulah S, she was born into a world with no televisions or computers. Her home did not have a bathroom, a telephone or even electricity. She was also born into a world where women in Oklahoma had only recently gained the right to vote. But Joyce would one day accomplish much more than what was expected of a women in her day.
As Joyce grew up she faced many difficulties. After Joyce’s family moved to Texas at age three her mother abandoned the family, so Joyce and her younger brother, Alvis, were sent to live with their grandparents. There Joyce remembers Grandma making biscuits on the wood stove and Grandpa quoting scripture. Joyce learned a lot from her grandparents, but her father would soon remarry and Joyce adjusted, once again, to a new home life.
Over time little Joyce blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Joyce met and married a handsome fellow named John. As their family began to grow with the addition of two baby girls, Alice and Barbara, John obtained a crutial job driving a Dallas city bus. In 1941 the United States entered World War II and by 1944 John was drafted into the US Army. Joyce was pregnant with their third daughter, Linda, when John was shipped off to France. Joyce then decided to drive a city bus, making her one of the first lady bus drivers in Dallas.
“Your husband must have already showed you how to drive this bus because I am amazed you caught on so fast.” Said the instructor who taught her how to maneuver the vehicle.
Driving a big bus could be challenging, as Joyce discovered one bright Spring morning when she drove the large bus out of the bus barn where the buses were stored overnight. In those days, milk was delivered to a person‘s house in glass jars by a fleet of delivery trucks. As Joyce approached an intersection one of these milk delivery trucks raced to try to make it through the intersection and he was directly in her path. Joyce tried to bring the big behemoth of a bus to a halt, but she couldn’t. As the two vehicles collided, glass milk bottles crashed onto the pavement and a beautiful white river of milk flowed down the street.
Another time, on a chilly Autumn day amid towering buildings Joyce made the rounds of her bus route in the dusty downtown of Dallas. At a designated stop a scruffy old man began to ascend the stairs of the bus. Looking up, he saw that the bus driver was a woman and he abruptly stopped, not quite on, not quite off. Moments passed. He stood on the stairs and continued to stare at the rare lady bus driver.
“Either get on or off of the bus.” Joyce stated frankly. The rumpled man continued to just look at her from the bus’s stairwell, not moving an inch.
“I have to close the bus doors, sir. You need to find a seat.” Joyce informed him.
The disheveled man still did not move.
While he stood frozen, Joyce explained, “The bus has to continue the route. You can’t hold it up any longer, sir.”
Finally, as her words had not effect Joyce stood up from the big driver’s seat and, holding onto the shiny metal support bars of the bus, she abruptly put her foot against his chest and pushed him off of the bus. Then, she casually returned to her seat and finished the route. She had a schedule to keep and nothing would stop her from doing her work.
The sun was high in the big Texas sky one scorching hot Summer day. By the 1950’s John and Joyce had long since changed jobs to driving dump trucks instead of city buses. Air conditioners were rare in dump trucks back then, so after carefully dumping the contents of her truck off a small platform that overhung boxcars down below Joyce parked her vehicle and stood by the refreshment stand with the other drivers in hopes a gentle breeze would whisk away the heat. She and the men sipped ice cold Coca-Colas before heading back for another load. After a few minutes a thin, bearded guy wearing denim overalls and a smirk joined to the group.“That the platform is too narrow for my truck. I will have to go somewhere else to dump my load. It’s a shame I drove all the way out here for nothing.” He said.
“I can do it.” Joyce found her self saying aloud. She knew she would be able to steer his truck onto the skinny platform. Although this task was difficult, Joyce was not afraid to do this because she knew that she was very skilled.
“You? A woman? You think you can drive my big truck onto that narrow platform? It can’t be done and you’ll make a fool of yourself if you try.” The man answered.
“Then I’ll show you and we’ll see who’s the fool.” Joyce retorted and before the man could answer she jumped into his truck and began to carefully guide it where it had never gone before. All the men stared.
“It can’t be done. And you‘ll pay for my truck when you mess it up!” The bearded doubter yelled after her.
But Joyce showed him it could. She skillfully backed it up with only a few small inches of leaway on each side of the tires. As she dumped the load all of the men stood in utter disbelief, mouths gaping open. After the men shook their surprise, they began to harass the bearded guy who doubted it could be done. Joyce jumped out of the truck and glided back to the group, triumphant. From then on no one doubted what a Joyce could accomplish.