D’ja hear about the kid in that fourth tent down?
No, I jus’ come in.
Well, that kid’s been a-cryin’ in his sleep an’ a-rollin’ in his sleep. Them folks thought he got worms. So they gave him a blaster, an’ he died. It was what they call black-tongue the kid had. Comes from not gettin’ good things to eat.
Poor little fella.
Yeah, but them folks can’t bury him. Got to go to the county stone orchard.
Well, hell.
And hands went into pockets and little coins came out. In front of the tent a little heap of silver grew. And the family found it there.
Our people are good people; our people are kind people. Pray God some day kind people won’t all be poor. Pray God some day a kid can eat.
And the associations of owners knew that some day the praying would stop.
And there’s the end.
– John Steinbeck, The Grapes Of Wrath, p. 250.
This novel is the what humanism looks like and it is the most articulate and piercing critique of capital-and-ownership driven markets you will ever need to read. Astonishing.
Your Correspondent, Closet Amish