Sunday, May 4, 2008

More On My Impoverished Childhood

The thing is, I didn’t know it was supposed to be impoverished. I thought we were fabulously well off. We lived in this trailer house next to grandma’s house. No, not mobile home, I said, trailer house. And how cool is that? A long narrow metal house. In your grandmas yard! Cooler it does not GET to a toddler. My baby sister and I had cribs on opposite walls of the bedroom at the far end of the hallway and we could hand things to each other across the space between our cribs. I was older and had outgrown my bottle, but sometimes I could get her to give hers to me across the gap. Next there was the bathroom and next the kitchen and at the far other end, the living room. There was a front door and a back door, but they were both along the same side of the trailer house. A bedroom for my parents was built on at the back door so it was the doorway to their bedroom. The addition was made of 2x4 framing and plywood. I bet that bedroom was cold in North Dakota in the winter! In the living room, the couch was built into the end of the trailer house. No not sofa, I said couch and I meant it. The living room was separated from the kitchen by the refrigerator. The TV sat on top of the fridge. We were rich to have a TV. Once my dad was holding my baby sister and I was sitting on the couch and we were watching the TV that was on top of the fridge waiting for my mom to get ready so we could all go somewhere. My dad was eating the pimentos out of green olives for me. Love doesn’t get thicker than that. We were rich, I tell you!

2 comments:

Mom Cat said...

Great story with beautiful memories!

Gene said...

What a pleasant memory. You were rich indeed.

I grew up very poor as well. Cereal for us was dry crusty bread with warm whole milk and sugar. We thought it was great. No indoor plumbing. We lived above the bar in Ellendale for a while. Then we rented a little shack south of town.

I recall having to bring the chickens into the kitchen because the coop was too cold.

There was no heat in the upstairs. We had a soil pot so we didn't have to make the trek outside.

When I was a child I remember the batteries that the wind generator charged. We didn't have REA yet.

But, those days changed. By the time I was 9 years old Dad's business began to take off.

We began to prosper.

I don't know if we were better off or not. But I remember Poor.

So, when I see the sad stories about those in need in the USA who have Air Conditioning and Microwaves and can't afford only one starbucks a day, My pity o meter only goes to 3.

I have thought about a book called 1954. Sort of a look back on what life was like in 1954 for me. The last year of our poverty. How we canned. Cut Milk with powder. Grew vegetables not because we just wanted fresh, it mattered. Got government cheese, peanut butter, corn meal. Government cheese was good. And Lard sandwiches. I learned to love them. Still do.

I think that's where my love of Horticulture comes from. I remember those days.

Thanks for ringing my bell.