Pappy

“So that’s it…” the little girl finished her request on the front porch of the farm-style home. She was addressing the whole family gathered at their usual evening spot.

“I gotta do a report for school about how we used to grow food there—”

With a tiny finger, the little girl pointed out into the black sky, at the brown Earth—a constant fixture for most of the day, and a reminder of a time not so long gone.

The Charlings were a storied family on this side of the Shackleton Crater. Pappy and Mammy Charling came over early and brought their soybeans with them. Back when Pappy could talk, he’d make sure you knew where your tofu came from.

“From Pappy!” Then he’d point at his chest. “Those plants are straight outta Akron!”

Caethren Charling, the second Charling born on their pale moon and Jeff’s daughter, looked at her little girl with pity. Pappy’s stories about Earth were the best, but since their simultaneous stroke, the elder Charlings had been claptrap.

“I know! That’s the problem!” The littlest Charling could feel her good grade slipping through her fingers. Not everyone had a real-life Earth farmer in their family. Tears began to well up in her big brown eyes.

Jeffrey saw his granddaughter in distress and was compelled to action.

“That’s okay, Sprinkles! You know, your grandpa was born on Earth too!”

The hysteria shed away.

“Really?! But you’re not as wrinkly as Pappy and Mammy!”

“Well, I rode over here with Mammy, in her belly. But give me another twenty years, little lady! Though by that time you’ll have your own!”

Pappy winced; he was mute but not an idiot.

“Pa!” Caethren was already heavily invested in skin creams and had subconsciously created a nice home for some skin-related emotional baggage for her daughter.

“My apologies, Cupcake.” His hands were up now after hearing the click of the land mine. “I’m just saying I know some stuff from the Earth back when. I can save your project!”

Sprinkles’s eyes perked up. “Grandpa!” They beamed at each other. Then her grandpappy picked her up and began:

“Back on the farm, Pappy, and his Pappy, my grandpappy, had the biggest private spread of land in what was called Ohio! Even when compared to the farms owned by private-equity firms. He was big time!”

“Woooow,” said the wild imagination of a child.

“They also rode horses!”

The little girl’s eyes sparkled. “What’s a horse?”

Everyone thought for a moment, while Pappy went ballistic in his head. He remembered how many offers his dad had turned down to keep their land—and he remembered the day the bank robbed it from them. That’s why he’d left; they didn’t have a farm anymore. Who was a farmer if he had no land?

Well, if there was no more land on Earth for Pappy to farm, he would take to the stars. His soybeans were already out of this world; this was the logical next step. Pappy and Mammy boarded the Icarus II and blasted off to the moon sixty years ago—but never had a chance to return.

Cupcake got up to get more hard cider from the kitchen, patted her daughter on the head as she passed, and told her, “Horses are kind of like a big dog.”

“And you know what else Pappy did? They used poop in their fields to grow vegetables! Can you believe that? They pooped on the ground and grew food in it.”

“Ewwww!”

Poor Pappy.

“What else can you tell me about Ohio?!”

“Oh, well… I remember one time Pappy told us about a river catching fire. Huh, that doesn’t seem right though.”

You’re grandpappy almost died at Ten-Cent Beer Night and that’s what you remember,” yelled a silent Pappy.

“I remember from school that it was flat. They bulldozed until all the ground was flat enough to grow stuff.” Cupcake was back with her refill. “You can’t grow stuff on mountains.”

It was at this point that Pappy’s disability had become a superpower.

“But you know what—the best part of Ohio was the little town where Pappy and Mammy met each other and fell in love. He proposed at prom, promising to wait for her to graduate in a couple of years, and she cried when she said yes. They’ve been together ever since.”

Sprinkles smiled at these fixtures on their front porch, right next to each other, as they stared at the place they’d left so long ago. They had never spoken, but Sprinkles loved Mammy and Pappy anyway. It was because of their sacrifice that she would never know that yearning immigrants feel for their home, or the courage it takes to know you have no home to go back to.

“Let’s go inside, little one, and I’ll tell you a bit more about your Pappy and Mammy. We’ll make sure you get the facts right for your project.”

The younger Charlings retired to their HOB and allowed the old guard to watch a little longer—on the same spot where they’d witnessed mushroom clouds change their lives.

Like the Mammys and Pappys before him, this farmer enjoyed another Earthset on his front porch, with his best gal, and left history to those who hadn’t lived it.