A Voice From The Past

For many years, we in Ruston were privileged to have John and Rena Heineman as neighbors. Rena was known for her beautiful garden and John for his poetry. John called himself "the Poet Lariat of Ruston ~ Definition: lariat, a stretch of rope with a cowboy at one end and a lot of Bull on the other". Rena served on the town council during those difficult years after the smelter shut down and Ruston lost most of its tax base.

Many years ago, John gave me a copy of some of his writings about Ruston. John is gone now, but his family graciously agreed to allow me to share some of his work here. I'll post more pieces over the next few weeks.

John, like many of the day, did not support the EPA-mandated replacement of Ruston yards in the late 1980's. The following was a poem with a title page labeled "Exhibit V - 'Tribal Tributes' - Burial Ground Narrative".

an . . . ALONG CAME THE E.P.A.
J. Heineman

I remember the day my brother came by
and handed me the Urn
He said,
He'd kept Grampa's ashes long enough
and now it was my turn.

Ol' Granddad was a Logger'
an died on a loggin' ride
It all happened on a hair-pin curve
comin' down the mountain side.

He always loved to sit out-back
as long as the day would last
So since he loved it in my yard
I spread him in my grass

an that's OK . . . 'cuse

My Sisters buried in the bank
Now Grandad's in the lawn
My ol dog Spot
is buried on the lot
but he ain't been dead too long.

Well, the Mill shut down
and the folk in Town
Had to Search for work
both near an far away

But Ruston's home
and we love our own
and most folks planned to stay
An things seemed to be goin' fine
until . . . .
ALONG CAME THE E.P.A.

They said,
"Your soils' con-tam-in-ated
It's a wonder
your grass and trees are green
and each of you ain't dead!"

"But we're feelin' fine," we told them,
"our gardens grow and bloom"
And at that big Town meeting
most all of Ruston was in the room.

"No", They insisted,
"Your town's contaminated
it's a terrible toxic sight"
"You need us to help you", said the E.P.A.
"And we will make it right!"

So they told us because our dirt was bad
everywhere around
They were going to dig up everybody's yard
and ship em' out of town!

So I stood up, an I shouted from the back,
"You're not comin' in my yard
You ain't got power enough for that!"

About that time,
they hit the plunger
an blew up Ruston stack!

So here I am
fightin' with the Government
and with the EPA
They just ain't gonna' haul ol' Grandad off
not if I have my way.

Well I listened to the folk who know
the first settlers around the Sound
They told me how to stop the Government
from pushin' my yard around.

Yes, I learned a thing or two
from the natives of Puget Sound
So I'm declairn' my Ruston yard . . .

is a SACRED BURIAL GROUND

Because . . .

My Sisters buried in the bank
Now Grandad's in the lawn
My ol dog Spot
is buried on the lot
but he ain't been dead too long.

Just call me a Native Son
of the good ol' Puget Sound
for I'll not put-up with the EPA
truckin' my relatives
out of town!