Storytelling

A story written to make a friend smile a couple of years ago.

When the sun sets and all the family gathers round the fire, I tell the story of a man long gone. A man who still inspires me to this day.

A man....who ran the street sweeper.

"Listen here, my children." I say, gathering young Susie and little Peter onto my lap. "Listen and I'll share with you a bit of our history. I'll tell you the tale of..."

"Street Sweeper Joe!" Susie yells and claps her hands in glee.

"Seet sep 'oe!" Peter echoes drunkenly. His mother insists that he speaks that way because he's two, but I swear that I can smell the telltale whiff of whiskey when he comes near. Poor little fellow.

"Peter, you need to lay off the sauce." I admonish halfheartedly before continuing. "The story of Street Sweeper Joe is a good story, an old story, a story that must be passed on. Now let me think of how to start it."

"Many, many years ago...

The Earth had advanced to a point when little needed to be done to sustain everyday life. The necessities were taken care of and the populace went about carefree and happy.

The people rejoiced. The leaders played a lot of golf. The small woodland animals danced.

Eventually a life of leisure for everyone led to some problems. Mainly with upkeep. Everyone had forgotten how to take care of things and soon they had a problem. There was a scourge upon the land and the name of that scourge was trash. It was piled up on street corners, it was overflowing out of garbage cans, it was fluttering about in the afternoon breeze like a very poetic thing.

But it was not poetic. It was stinky. It was dirty. It was probably very unhygienic.

The people complained. The leaders fretted. The small woodland animals headed upwind.

It got so bad that one day the very last piece of grass was taken over by trash. As far as the eye could see there were piles and mounds of garbage. Everyone walked around with their noses plugged and their eyes watering and their shoes getting soggy with things they would rather not think about."

"Ewwww!" Giggled Susie.

"Mrpp" Peter drunkenly mumbled.

"Really, your mother should take away your whiskey. It's unseemly for a boy your age. Now, where was I?"

"It had gotten bad enough that the population of Earth decided to start picking up their trash. They went out in groups and gathered and shoveled and pushed and poked. But no matter how much effort they put into it, they didn't accomplish anything. They had no trash-picking skills, nowhere to put the trash and they kept getting distracted by having to swoon dramatically over the smell. Honestly, so much dramatic swooning was going on day and night that there was barely time to notice that they weren't accomplishing anything with the trash problem.

The people swooned. The leaders drank. The small woodland animals laughed at the swooning and the drinking and the drunken swooning.

Then one morning, a rumbling sound could be heard across the land. The people stopped their swooning and climbed up out of the trash. Reveled in the rays of the rising sun there stood...."

"Street Sweeper Joe!" Susie and Peter yelled. Or rather Susie yelled and Peter waved his hands wildly and burped.

"Yes, my darlings. It was Street Sweeper Joe, riding into town on his street sweeper of salvation. As he rumbled up and down the streets and highways, the trash was slowly removed. Once again the sidewalks, the pavements, even the grass was exposed to the sun again. The people came out and danced on the now-clean earth. They sang out a song extolling Street Sweeper Joe's virtues. They threw flowers, only to have Joe sweep them up quickly.

The people rejoiced. The leaders gave thanks. The small woodland animals hid from the big rumbling machine.

Finally the job was done, the trash was gone and Street Sweeper Joe pulled up in front of the capital and looked down at all the people. The leader walked up and said to Joe, 'You have saved us, you street sweeper hero! What can we do to repay you?' But Joe was a humble sort and he spoke, his voice as rumbly as the street sweeper he drove...

'Joe is name
Street sweeping is my game
I want nothing more
Than to do my little chore
No gold, rubies or cash
Just let me sweep up your trash
And I'll be happy, I say
Thank you and good day.'

The townspeople were impressed by his sentiment, even though his rhyme scheme was a little off and they gratefully agreed to let him pick up trash. Street Sweeper Joe taught the people how to keep things clean and to this day we honor when the anniversary of the day he came to town."

" 'oe still here?" Peter asked with a slur.

"No, my sweet inebriated child. One day Street Sweeper Joe started talking about recycling and compost heaps and it was decided that he was getting to be too uppity so the leaders decided to kick him out of town. But to this day, if you listen very closely in the dead of night, you might here the rumbling sound of Street Sweeper Joe."

The light fades as the fire dies down and I send the family off to bed, shaking my head at Peter's wobbling attempts to walk in a straight line. One day I'm going to figure out where that kid gets his whiskey. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow we have to go out and swoon dramatically as we try to pick up the trash that has taken over our world.