OVER MY SHOULDER

I am in the process of ‘organizing and cataloging’ our pictures and slides-- many are of my brothers and I as we were growing up--a lot of Michael and Steven, and cousins as they were growing up---then there are a lot more current pictures of the grand children. One of the things that I notice the most is the difference in the back ground of the pictures---which indicates the standard of living.

In the more current pictures, even when Michael and Steven were small, the houses are in much better repair---they are painted, the porch boards are ‘all there’-- the out buildings are in good repair---there are flowers, trimmed hedges etc. In most cases, in the pictures taken when I was a youngster, the houses and out buildings were unpainted, in many of them there were porch flooring boards broken and/or gone, there would be a wood pile in the back ground, and the out buildings were unpainted and in poor repair---and of course there was always the ‘out house--privy or what ever the name was’.

The reason of course was not that our family was lazy, or that they did not want to have a nice looking home, rather, in the 1930’s and even in the very early ‘40’s there just were no funds with which to maintain the buildings---in many cases, particularly the young families the house was rented---as a matter fact, one was fortunate to have enough funds to take care of the necessities of clothing and food.

It was not just our family,----except for a very few families, every one was ‘in the same boat’---essentially no one ‘had any thing’, and there were many that had no job. Survival depended upon picking up odd jobs for a few cents or dollars, some help from government commodities, sometimes a W. P. A. job, a few chickens, a cow, a few pigs, a garden, perhaps a few fruit trees, and one’s ingenuity---(maybe some wild game from a hunting trip, some sorghum from the local mill, a few fish, wild greens, wild strawberries, wild grapes, sand plums, etc)

Recently, I was visiting with a friend and neighbor who does some ‘remodel work’, as we were viewing a large walk in closet, we got to discussing closets. He said that when the did some work on his Grandfather’s house, he question the Grandfather about the lack of closets in his old house. The Grandfather explained that they did not need a closet----that as a young man he had only a pair of work overalls, a work shirt, a pair of ‘dress’ overalls, a dress shirt, a couple pair or under wear, a pair of work shoes and maybe a pair of dress shoes-----and that Grandmother had no more, ---thus all of the clothes hung on a nail on the back of the bedroom door ---- there was no need for a closet.

I can attest that this accurate---as a youngster, I had ‘school’ clothes and ‘chore clothes’----When I got home form school, I changed to my chore clothes, and the next morning, when I got ready for school, I would put my school clothes back on--- I do recall that we had 3 or 4 changes of under wear---but only one pair of work shoes and one pair---maybe of dress shoes.
I recall that one winter, I believe in the 1939-49 winter----at least I was in the second grade, we (Dad, Mom, my two brothers and I) ‘shared’ a five room house on the north edge of Mound City with Dad’s cousin (Uncle Oat), his wife and their four children. (not a lot of elbow room, but one did what they had to do to survive). I recall very vividly walking across Mound City to the school----as I walked with the older kids, and we walked through a cemetery both ways. I was never comfortable walking across that cemetery and thank goodness I never had to walk it alone.

It must have been quite dry, as I recall Dad and Uncle Oat digging a well in the center of the creek (which was only a few yards from the barn) to get water for the cow and pigs that one or both of the families had. I believe that we had a wood cook stove at that time, and or course kerosene lamps for light.

Dad and Uncle Oat found a farmer a couple miles north of town that had an 8’ “vein” of coal in his pasture----the only problem was that it was under about four feet of dirt----I recall going to that farm with them, and spending the day while they dug down to the vein of coal and dug enough coal to heat the house and to use in the cook stove. I suppose that they spent several days in getting enough coal for the winter, but I remember only a day or two---i was probably in school on the other days.

We ate quite simple---primarily staple items---it took me years as an adult to grow to like and enjoy navy beans again---and I even like and enjoy cornbread now. Of course we nearly always had eggs available, and milk and cream for the milk cow.
We had very little candy --- perhaps a little occasionally that Frank Kenny would slip in the sack “for the Kids” when the folks purchased a few staple items.

I can recall that pie was a real treat, as it was not very often that we had pie. One day Mom and Lucille baked custard pies----and custard pie was and is one of my favorites---(as the guy says--I only like two kinds of pie--hot and cold and sometimes lukewarm)---they put the pies near the window in the back bedroom so that it would cool some for the evening meal.

I can recall very that when it came time for the pie, it was entrusted to me to go the back bedroom to get the pie. I remember how proud I was to be trusted with that culinary treasure, and how proudly I brought it to the kitchen table---all the time thinking of the tasty treat in which I was about to share---certainly not a quarter of the pie, nor a fifth of the pie, but at least a piece of pie. Looking back on it, if things went the usual way, Mom and the other adults often were “too full to eat any pie, or they just didn’t want pie tonight”----strange isn’t as in later years, when things got better, I don’t recall them turning down pie---guess that they ‘saved’ room better.

As I came into the light of the kitchen, and approached the table, I had to raise the pie to set it on the table----low and behold, I hooked the edge of the pie pan on the table, and turned the pie upside down on the floor-----one does not know what broken hearted is until they have been in such a position. Of course I cried---after all, this was not a daily treat.
Mom tried to sooth my feelings the best that she could, -----took the spatula from the cabinet drawer, gathered up the pie as she turned it up right---put the filling back in the shell, and we ate and enjoyed that pie. Doesn’t sound very sanitary today does it? But one does what they have to do. I can not remember this incident even today without developing a hurting in the pit of my stomach.

Folks we were not deprived, we did not know that we were poor,--no one told us, and when we looked around everyone else was in the same boat. It has been said, “Life is like a grindstone---it will grind you down or polish and shape you, depending on what your are made of.” I know what my Mom and Dad were made of---and I can only pray that a little of it has rubbed off on me.----Yes, our generation is truly blessed----or are we? L.D.C.