The Sandburg Treasury Read online

  “The next we come to is the Rootabaga Country where the big city is the Village of Liver-and-Onions,” said Gimme the Ax, looking again in his pocket to be sure he had the long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.

  The train ran on and on till it stopped running straight and began running in zigzags like one letter Z put next to another Z and the next and the next.

  The tracks and the rails and the ties and the spikes under the train all stopped being straight and changed to zigzags like one letter Z and another letter Z put next after the other.

  “It seems like we go halfway and then back up,” said Ax Me No Questions.

  “Look out of the window and see if the pigs have bibs on,” said Gimme the Ax. “If the pigs are wearing bibs, then this is the Rootabaga Country.”

  And they looked out of the zigzagging windows of the zigzagging cars, and the first pigs they saw had bibs on. And the next pigs and the next pigs they saw all had bibs on.

  The checker pigs had checker bibs on; the striped pigs had striped bibs on. And the polka-dot pigs had polka-dot bibs on.

  “Who fixes it for the pigs to have bibs on?” Please Gimme asked his father.

  “The fathers and mothers fix it,” answered Gimme the Ax. “The checker pigs have checker fathers and mothers. The striped pigs have striped fathers and mothers. And the polka-dot pigs have polka-dot fathers and mothers.”

  And the train went zigzagging on and on, running on the tracks and the rails and the spikes and the ties which were all zigzag like the letter Z and the letter Z.

  And after a while the train zigzagged on into the Village of Liver-and-Onions, known as the biggest city in the big, big Rootabaga Country.

  And so if you are going to the Rootabaga Country, you will know when you get there because the railroad tracks change from straight to zigzag, the pigs have bibs on, and it is the fathers and mothers who fix it.

  And if you start to go to that country, remember first you must sell everything you have, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, put the spot cash money in a ragbag, and go to the railroad station and ask the ticket agent for a long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.

  And you mustn’t be surprised if the ticket agent wipes sleep from his eyes and asks, “So far? So early? So soon?”

  HOW THEY BRING BACK THE VILLAGE OF CREAM PUFFS WHEN THE WIND BLOWS IT AWAY

  A GIRL NAMED Wing Tip the Spick came to the Village of Liver-and-Onions to visit her uncle and her uncle’s uncle on her mother’s side and her uncle and her uncle’s uncle on her father’s side.

  It was the first time the four uncles had a chance to see their little relation, their niece. Each one of the four uncles was proud of the blue eyes of Wing Tip the Spick.

  The two uncles on her mother’s side took a long deep look into her blue eyes and said, “Her eyes are so blue, such a clear light blue, they are the same as cornflowers with blue raindrops shining and dancing on silver leaves after a sun shower in any of the summer months.” And the two uncles on her father’s side, after taking a long deep look into the eyes of Wing Tip the Spick, said, “Her eyes are so blue, such a clear, light shining blue, they are the same as cornflowers with blue raindrops shining and dancing on the silver leaves after a sun shower in any of the summer months.”

  And though Wing Tip the Spick didn’t listen and didn’t hear what the uncles said about her blue eyes, she did say to herself when they were not listening, “I know these are sweet uncles, and I am going to have a sweet time visiting my relations.”

  The four uncles said to her, “Will you let us ask you two questions, first the first question and second the second question?”

  “I will let you ask me fifty questions this morning, fifty questions tomorrow morning, and fifty questions any morning. I like to listen to questions. They slip in one ear and slip out of the other.”

  Then the uncles asked her the first question first, “Where do you come from?” and the second question second, “Why do you have two freckles on your chin?”

  “Answering your first question first,” said Wing Tip the Spick, “I come from the Village of Cream Puffs, a little light village on the upland corn prairie. From a long ways off it looks like a little hat you could wear on the end of your thumb to keep the rain off your thumb.”

  “Tell us more,” said one uncle. “Tell us much,” said another uncle. “Tell it without stopping,” added another uncle. “Interruptions nix nix,” murmured the last of the uncles.

  “It is a light little village on the upland corn prairie many miles past the sunset in the west,” went on Wing Tip the Spick. “It is light the same as a cream puff is light. It sits all by itself on the big long prairie when the prairie goes up in a slope. There on the slope the winds play around the village. They sing it wind songs, summer wind songs in summer, winter wind songs in winter.”

  “And sometimes like an accident, the wind gets rough. And when the wind gets rough, it picks up the little Village of Cream Puffs and blows it away off in the sky—all by itself.”

  “O-o-h-h,” said one uncle. “Um-m-m-m,” said the other three uncles.

  “Now the people in the village all understand the winds with their wind songs in summer and winter. And they understand the rough wind who comes sometimes and picks up the village and blows it away off high in the sky all by itself.

  “If you go to the public square in the middle of the village, you will see a big roundhouse. If you take the top off the roundhouse, you will see a big spool with a long string winding up around the spool.

  “Now whenever the rough wind comes and picks up the village and blows it away off high in the sky all by itself, then the string winds loose off the spool, because the village is fastened to the string. So the rough wind blows and blows, and the string on the spool winds looser and looser the farther the village goes blowing away off into the sky all by itself.

  “Then at last when the rough wind, so forgetful, so careless, has had all the fun it wants, then the people of the village all come together and begin to wind up the spool and bring back the village where it was before.”

  “O-o-h-h,” said one uncle. “Um-m-m-m,” said the other three uncles.

  “And sometimes when you come to the village to see your little relation, your niece who has four such sweet uncles, maybe she will lead you through the middle of the city to the public square and show you the roundhouse. They call it the Roundhouse of the Big Spool. And they are proud because it was thought up and is there to show when visitors come.”

  “And now will you answer the second question second—why do you have two freckles on your chin?” interrupted the uncle who had said before, “Interruptions nix nix.”

  “The freckles are put on,” answered Wing Tip the Spick. “When a girl goes away from the Village of Cream Puffs, her mother puts on two freckles, on the chin. Each freckle must be the same as a little burnt cream puff kept in the oven too long. After the two freckles looking like two little burnt cream puffs are put on her chin, they remind the girl every morning when she combs her hair and looks in the looking glass. They remind her where she came from and she mustn’t stay away too long.”

  “O-h-h-h,” said one uncle. “Um-m-m-m,” said the other three uncles. And they talked among each other afterward, the four uncles by themselves, saying:

  “She has a gift. It is her eyes. They are so blue, such a clear light blue, the same as cornflowers with blue raindrops shining and dancing on silver leaves after a sun shower in any of the summer months.”

  At the same time Wing Tip the Spick was saying to herself, “I know for sure now these are sweet uncles, and I am going to have a sweet time visiting my relations.”

  HOW THE FIVE RUSTY RATS HELPED FIND A NEW VILLAGE

  ONE DAY WHILE Wing Tip the Spick was visiting her four uncles in the Village of Liver-and-Onions, a blizzard came up. Snow filled the sky, and the wind blew and made a noise like heavy wagon axles grinding and cryin
g.

  And on this day a gray rat came to the house of the four uncles, a rat with gray skin and gray hair, gray as the gray gravy on a beefsteak. The rat had a basket. In the basket was a catfish. And the rat said, “Please let me have a little fire and a little salt as I wish to make a little bowl of hot catfish soup to keep me warm through the blizzard.”

  And the four uncles all said together, “This is no time for rats to be around—and we would like to ask you where you got the catfish in the basket.”

  “Oh, oh, oh, please—in the name of the five rusty rats, the five lucky rats of the Village of Cream Puffs, please don’t,” was the exclamation of Wing Tip the Spick.

  The uncles stopped. They looked long and deep into the eyes of Wing Tip the Spick and thought, as they had thought before, how her eyes were clear light blue the same as cornflowers with blue raindrops shining on the silver leaves in a summer sun shower.

  And the four uncles opened the door and let the gray rat come in with the basket and the catfish. They showed the gray rat the way to the kitchen and the fire and the salt. And they watched the rat and kept him company while he fixed himself a catfish soup to keep him warm traveling through the blizzard with the sky full of snow.

  After they opened the front door and let the rat out and said good-by, they turned to Wing Tip the Spick and asked her to tell them about the five rusty, lucky rats of the Village of Cream Puffs where she lived with her father and her mother and her folks.

  “When I was a little girl growing up, before I learned all I learned since I got older, my grandfather gave me a birthday present because I was nine years old. I remember how he said to me, ‘You will never be nine years old again after this birthday, so I give you this box for a birthday present.’

  “In the box was a pair of red slippers with a gold clock on each slipper. One of the clocks ran fast. The other clock ran slow. And he told me if I wished to be early anywhere, I should go by the clock that ran fast. And if I wished to be late anywhere, I should go by the clock that ran slow.

  “And that same birthday he took me down through the middle of the Village of Cream Puffs to the public square near the Roundhouse of the Big Spool. There he pointed his finger at the statue of the five rusty rats, the five lucky rats. And as near as I can remember his words, he said:

  “‘Many years ago, long before the snow birds began to wear funny little slip-on hats and funny little slip-on shoes, and away back long before the snow birds learned how to slip off their slip-on hats and how to slip off their slip-on shoes, long ago in the faraway Village of Liver-and-Onions, the people who ate cream puffs came together and met in the streets and picked up their baggage and put their belongings on their shoulders and marched out of the Village of Liver-and-Onions saying, “We shall find a new place for a village, and the name of it shall be the Village of Cream Puffs.”

  “‘They marched out on the prairie with their baggage and belongings in sacks on their shoulders. And a blizzard came up. Snow filled the sky. The wind blew and blew and made a noise like heavy wagon axles grinding and crying.

  “‘The snow came on. The wind twisted all day and all night and all the next day. The wind changed black and twisted and spit icicles in their faces. They got lost in the blizzard. They expected to die and be buried in the snow for the wolves to come and eat them.

  “‘Then the five lucky rats came, the five rusty rats, rust on their skin and hair, rust on their feet and noses, rust all over, and especially, most especially of all, rust on their long curved tails. They dug their noses down into the snow, and their long curved tails stuck up far above the snow where the people who were lost in the blizzard could take hold of the tails like handles.

  “‘And so, while the wind and the snow blew and the blizzard beat its icicles in their faces, they held on to the long curved tails of the rusty rats till they came to the place where the Village of Cream Puffs now stands. It was the rusty rats who saved their lives and showed them where to put their new village. That is why this statue now stands in the public square, this statue of the shapes of the five rusty rats, the five lucky rats with their noses down in the snow and their long curved tails lifted high out of the snow.’

  “That is the story as my grandfather told it to me. And he said it happened long ago, long before the snow birds began to wear slip-on hats and slip-on shoes, long before they learned how to slip off the slip-on hats and to slip off the slip-on shoes.”

  “O-h-h-h,” said one of the uncles. “Um-m-m-m,” said the other three uncles.

  “And sometime,” added Wing Tip the Spick, “when you go away from the Village of Liver-and-Onions and cross the Shampoo River and ride many miles across the upland prairie till you come to the Village of Cream Puffs, you will find a girl there who loves four uncles very much.

  “And if you ask her politely, she will show you the red slippers with gold clocks on them, one clock to be early by, the other to be late by. And if you are still more polite, she will take you through the middle of the town to the public square and show you the statue of the five rusty, lucky rats with their long curved tails sticking up in the air like handles. And the tails are curved so long and so nice you will feel like going up and taking hold of them to see what will happen to you.”

  Five Stories About the Potato Face Blind Man

  PEOPLE:

  The Potato Face Blind Man

  Any Ice Today

  Pick Ups

  Lizzie Lazarus

  Poker Face the Baboon

  Hot Dog the Tiger

  Whitson Whimble

  A man shoveling money

  A Watermelon Moon

  White Gold Boys

  Blue Silver Girls

  Big white moon spiders

  Zizzies

  Gimme the Ax again

  THE POTATO FACE BLIND MAN WHO LOST THE DIAMOND RABBIT ON HIS GOLD ACCORDION

  THERE WAS A Potato Face Blind Man used to play an accordion on the Main Street corner nearest the post office in the Village of Liver-and-Onions.

  Any Ice Today came along and said, “It looks like it used to be an 18-carat-gold accordion with rich pawnshop diamonds in it; it looks like it used to be a grand accordion once and not so grand now.”

  “Oh, yes, oh, yes, it was gold all over on the outside,” said the Potato Face Blind Man, “and there was a diamond rabbit next to the handles on each side, two diamond rabbits.”

  “How do you mean diamond rabbits?” Any Ice Today asked.

  “Ears, legs, head, feet, ribs, tail, all fixed out in diamonds to make a nice rabbit with his diamond chin on his diamond toenails. When I play good pieces so people cry hearing my accordion music, then I put my fingers over and feel of the rabbit’s diamond chin on his diamond toenails, ‘Attaboy, li’l bunny, attaboy, li’l bunny.’”

  “Yes, I hear you talking, but it is like dream talking. I wonder why your accordion looks like somebody stole it and took it to a pawnshop and took it out and somebody stole it again and took it to a pawnshop and took it out and somebody stole it again. And they kept on stealing it and taking it out of the pawnshop and stealing it again till the gold wore off so it looks like a used-to-be-yesterday.”

  “Oh, yes, o-h, y-e-s, you are right. It is not like the accordion it used to be. It knows more knowledge than it used to know just the same as this Potato Face Blind Man knows more knowledge than he used to know.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Any Ice Today.

  “It is simple. If a blind man plays an accordion on the street to make people cry, it makes them sad, and when they are sad, the gold goes away off the accordion. And if a blind man goes to sleep because his music is full of sleepy songs like the long wind in a sleepy valley, then while the blind man is sleeping, the diamonds in the diamond rabbit all go away. I play a sleepy song and go to sleep, and I wake up and the diamond ear of the diamond rabbit is gone. I play another sleepy song and go to sleep and wake up, and the diamond tail of the diamond rabbit is gone. After a while all the diamond r
abbits are gone, even the diamond chin sitting on the diamond toenails of the rabbits next to the handles of the accordion, even those are gone.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” asked Any Ice Today.

  “I do it myself,” said the Potato Face Blind Man. “If I am too sorry, I just play the sleepy song of the long wind going up the sleepy valleys. And that carries me away where I have time and money to dream about the new wonderful accordions and post offices where everybody that gets a letter and everybody that don’t get a letter stops and remembers the Potato Face Blind Man.”

  HOW THE POTATO FACE BLIND MAN ENJOYED HIMSELF ON A FINE SPRING MORNING

  ON A FRIDAY morning when the flummywisters were yodeling yisters high in the elm trees, the Potato Face Blind Man came down to his work sitting at the corner nearest the post office in the Village of Liver-and-Onions and playing his gold-that-used-to-be accordion for the pleasure of the ears of the people going into the post office to see if they got any letters for themselves or their families.

  “It is a good day, a lucky day,” said the Potato Face Blind Man, “because for a beginning I have heard high in the elm trees the flummywisters yodeling their yisters in the long branches of the lingering leaves. So—so—I am going to listen to myself playing on my accordion the same yisters, the same yodels, drawing them like long glad breathings out of my glad accordion, long breathings of the branches of the lingering leaves.”

  And he sat down in his chair. On the sleeve of his coat he tied a sign, “I Am Blind Too.” On the top button of his coat he hung a little thimble. On the bottom button of his coat he hung a tin copper cup. On the middle button he hung a wooden mug. By the side of him, on the left side on the sidewalk, he put a galvanized iron washtub and, on the right side, an aluminum dishpan.