Not that depression yet

“All I can really remember is him crying, saying ‘I couldn’t even pay for her funeral.’”

I had asked Mom about her Dad. I remember him as rather cold and always outside in the garden, with his bees, or in the “fish room” with his coin collection. He used to give me a spanking each birthday–one swat for each year. Mom’s stories about him lately have mostly been along the lines of “I’m sure glad I had you, no matter what Dad thought.” He thought she was too old to be having a child at 40. But learning that he had cried made my heart ache for the stubborn old man.

I interviewed him for an oral history project in high school. He had a very hard time talking and constantly fiddled with his fingers while he spoke. He told me that for part of the Great Depression he’d sold Raleigh products. He’d go out and sometimes get orders, but more frequently did not. And sometimes he got the product to fill his orders, and sometimes he did not. He never talked to me about his wife’s death.

I had always pictured him as doing pretty well during the depression. I knew that he had taken in his future in-laws when they lost their home. It was odd to think of him doing something so generous, but when I was small his mother-in-law, my MeMe Sargent, was living with him again. Mom has reminisced about her mother always giving something to anyone who came by asking for work or food. Once a man picked up all their fallen apples and was given a few, plus a piece of bread with butter and sugar. At least that’s how I remember a story. So it seemed that they had more resources than some others.

My father never spoke much of the depression either. Sometimes he’d fix himself something that he had learned to eat during that time. He taught me to eat stale popcorn with milk and sugar for breakfast. And to eat crackers with jelly mixed with milk. He also taught me to eat bone marrow. He and his siblings would talk fondly of eating brains and such. They talked about being lucky to always have some sort of food around. Although, the lack of food caused the death of their pet squirrel: their neighbor lady shot and ate him.

Once while visiting the town Dad grew up near, he took Mom and me on a walk to show us the plaque commemorating the Lincoln-Douglas debate held there. As we walked he pointed out numerous places where he had lived with his first wife. Mom asked him why they had moved around so much. Dad answered, “If you can’t pay the rent, you have to move.” There was such pain in his voice. We were all silent for a long time after that.

All I’m experiencing during this recession is a lack of employment opportunities and fewer meals out. I did just make soup out of an old rooster, but that was because it was given to me; not because that’s all I could afford to eat. Not having a good place to put in a vegetable garden makes me a little nervous. I don’t own a freezer, nor do I know how to can. So perhaps it makes no difference. For now I have health care, shelter, and food. I feel pretty lucky.

04/04/2009 correction after conferring with Mom:
My grandfather did not have his future in-laws move in during the Great Depression. He had an older couple move in and mom and her brother called them grandma and grandpa. But they weren’t related. How six people lived in that small one-level house, I don’t know. When I asked Mom about it, she just reminded me that they didn’t have the bathroom then. So they had a bit more space. Hmm. So they all shared a single outhouse? That sounds like a lot of fun.