The Grapes of Wrath Page #49

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INSIDE THE CABIN, Ma sits on a box in front of the stove.

The fire door is open and the light shines out. The room

itself has been pretty well stripped, with only trash and

discarded things left. In Ma's lap is a pasteboard shoebox

and she is going through the meager treasures stored in it,

to see what must go and what she can take with her. Her eyes

are soft and thoughtful as each item brings a memory, but

not sad. Occasionally she smiles faintly. She pulls out a

letter, looks at it, starts to throw it into the fire, then

puts it back in the box. Her hand pulls out a PICTURE

POSTCARD. We see it in Ma's hand. It is a picture of the

Statue Of Liberty. Over it: "Greetings from New York City."

She turns it over. It is addressed: "Mrs. Joad RFD 254

Oklahomy Territory." In the space for a message: "Hello honey.

Willy Mae."

MA, after a moment of studying it, throws the card into the

fire. She lifts the letter again, puts it back. She pulls

out a worn NEWSPAPER CLIPPING. We see it in Ma's hand. The

headline is:
"JOAD GETS SEVEN YEARS."

MA drops the clipping into the fire. Rummaging around, she

pulls out a small CHINA DOG. We see it closely as before. On

it is printed:
"Souvenir of Louisiana Purchase Exposition--

St. Louis--1904."

MA studies the dog, smiling, remembering something that it

meant in her life. Then she puts in in a pocket in her dress.

Next she pulls out some pieces of cheap jewelry; one cuff

link, a baby's signet ring, two earrings. She smiles at the

ring, then pockets it. The cuff link too. The earrings she

holds for a moment longer, then looks around to make sure

nobody sees, then holds them to her ears, not looking into

any kind of a mirror, just feeling them against the lobes of

her ears, as once perhaps she wore them. Her eyes are grave.

TOM:

(from the door)

How about it, Ma?

MA:

I'm ready.

Tom disappears. Ma looks at the earrings, and then at the

contents of the box. She lifts out the letter again and looks

at it. Then, without drama, she drops it into the fire. She

watches it burn. Her eyes are still on the flame as she calls.

MA:

Rosasharn honey! Wake up the chillun.

We're fixin' to leave.

The flame dies down.

In the BACKYARD it is grey dawn. There is a thrill of quiet

excitement as they all stand around the loaded truck, hats

on, putting on coats. The ones missing are Ma, Rosasharn,

the children, and Grampa. Pa is in charge.

PA:

(as Ma comes out of

the cabin)

Where's Grampa? Al, go git him.

GRANMA:

(trying to climb in

the front seat)

I'm gonna sit up front! Somebody

he'p me!

Tom easily lifts her up the step. The two children come

running out of the house, chanting.

RUTHIE AND WINFIELD

Goin' to California! Goin' to

California!

PA:

You kids climb up first, on top.

(all obey as he directs)

Al's gonna drive, Ma. You sit up

there with him and Granma and we'll

swap around later.

GRANMA:

I ain't gonna sit with Grampa!

PA:

Connie, you he'p Rosasharn up there

alongside Ruthie and Winfiel'.

(Looking around)

Where's Grampa?

GRANMA:

(with a cackle)

Where he al'ays is, prob'ly!

PA:

Well, leave him a place, but Noah,

you and John, y'all kinda find

yourself a place--kinda keep it even

all around.

All have obeyed and are aboard but Pa, Tom, and Casy, who is

watching the springs flatten out.

TOM:

Think she'll hold?

CASY:

If she does it'll be a miracle outa

Scripture.

GRAMPA'S VOICE

Lemmo go, gol dang it! Lemmo go, I

tell you!

All turn. In a CORNER OF THE HOUSE Al is pulling Grampa gently

but firmly, the old man holding back, and furious. He flails

feebly at Al, who holds his head out of the way without

effort.

AL:

He wasn't sleepin'. He was settin'

out back a the barn. They's somepin'

wrong with him.

GRAMPA:

Ef you don't let me go--

Al permits Grampa to jerk loose and sit down on the doorstep.

The old man is miserable and frightened and angry, too old

to understand or accept such a violent change in his life.

Tom and Pa come up to him. The others watch solemnly from

their places in the truck.

TOM:

What's the matter, Grampa?

GRAMPA:

(dully, sullenly)

Ain't nothin' the matter. I just

ain't a-goin', that's all.

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