CHILDHOOD MEMORIES: POVERTY

(This series of ten blogs is personal and written primarily for the benefit of my grandchildren. Others may choose to skip them-or maybe even find them interesting.)

I grew up poor. I hasten to add that I was certainly not alone. Also I am deeply aware that there were and are millions who had/have much less than I. I recently checked on-line and found detailed records of the 1945 US Government census. That record showed that my father’s income for the previous year was listed at  $720.00 (although I seem to have the memory that while that was indeed the promised salary the local church he was serving was, in fact, unable to pay his total salary for that year).

I certainly never went hungry, but I remember things that I longed for. I wondered what it would be like to eat a complete candy bar. When Father went to Teachers Conference he would bring back a few candy bars (Baby Ruth, Butterfingers, or Milky Way). Mother would get out the kitchen knife and carefully cut the bar into 7 pieces and distribute them to my six siblings and me. Occasionally our neighborhood grocery store would display a box of seedless green grapes on the counter. My mouth salivated at the sight, but I could never possibly purchase any. Mother would on occasion make a banana pudding and I would stare at the banana and wonder what it would be like to have the luxury of eating a whole banana, all by myself. When at Christmastime the bag of goodies we got from our church was given us on Christmas Eve I spent a lot of time trying to decide as to when I wanted to chew that lone stick of gum that was enclosed. But I also knew that when dinner time came there would be meat and potatoes on the table and plenty of fresh milk

Mother insisted that we dress neatly and cleanly. She sewed much of the clothes, especially for my sisters and pants often had many patches. But they were clean and the white dress shirt my father wore as he taught each day was always starched and ironed. To this day I remember the really good-looking suit that was purchased for my confirmation ritual at church and that the suit cost $7.00 and was paid off over an agreed upon time period.

I went to one movie in the first 14 years of my life. Uncle Otto who wanted me to see Shirley Temple provided that. One of my most proud grade school projects was that somehow or other I collected enough Post Toasties box tops to send them in for a brand new 12-inch softball. I remember the day it arrived in the mail and how it was passed around at school and we learned to know what a new softball felt like. I never owned a storybook but my cousin Ben loaned me those small fat little Dick Tracy books. The 1927 Model A Ford we drove lasted us until Uncle Fred helped us get a new Chevy in l946.

One of the lessons my parents insisted upon was that we were not to ask for ”government relief” and I regret to say that we looked down disdainfully on those who were working in government sponsored relief programs like the WPA even though that government project provided us with our first in-the-ground cesspool outdoor privy.

Those early years of very limited money served me well. I learned to appreciate what I had, to enjoy the reality that the best things in life are free, that God always took care of me and that I was and am very richly blessed.