MR. CRATE: A Whimsical Childrens Story I wrote

Tues. June 24,1972  MR CRATE ~written & illustrated by Rebecca Schoof.

A whimsical story I wrote, out of boredom, for my younger brothers, two of them who were spending time in the strawberry fields earning spending money.  I or my father would accompany them for the day to make a little spending money until our next jobs.
The story takes off from the strawberry crates perspective and he describes his day in the strawberry fields.

I am a very busy little fellow.

Each morning about 6:30 in the morning I am taken from a low platform with dozens of others just like me.

Big hands, little hands, and medium sized hands help me by putting me on a small low cart with some of my friends just like me.
Sometimes I'm on top and then other times I'm not.  That is the regular routine.

Early in the morning I get quite wet but then dry off later.  When the sun comes out, I'm on the bottom where it is nice and cool.

I am often used for other things such as a battering ram for a strawberry fight, a baby bed for some little one who had to tag along, a bench for the tired, or a play house for a three-year-old.
My job, however, consists of holding the rest of me, twelve little boxes to hold strawberries and more strawberries.  It's a tough life!  Many times I am mistreated and little ones throw strawberries at me and I get real dirty.
I never get a bath either.
All day long I must ride over bumpy ground.  I creak and groan under the weight.  Boy does it hurt when someone sits on me.

The best part of the day is when we are finally full and get a satisfying look from the checker and get traded in for a punch on a ticket.  That is when the hardest part of my job is over.
We then wait and wait in stacks and get a ride to the market or cannery and then start all over again.
It's the strawberry pickers I feel sorry for though.  For the strawberries...their fate is unknown to them.  For the picker, all I give them is an aching back and tired bones but that is their problem for they have their choice or do they?
The moral of the story is...Don't pick strawberries unless you have to.  THE END