These cold days and nights, sometimes rainy, too, have brought memories of long ago about how things were then. I was reading items in “A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul.” Many memories came to mind. I saw some of these very things.
A contributor told of his life during the Depression, in the early 1930s. He was a younger son, and his clothes were always hand-me-downs, regularly patched, outgrown but still wearable.
Shoes were another matter. The soles would be worn until there were holes. Sometimes, before that, the stitching would tear loose and start flapping. The best solution: a sturdy rubber band cut from an inner tube. It would hold it in place, with frequent adjustments.
His memories brought back some of mine, of how folks managed during that time. If our shoe soles came loose we could take them to Mr. Neyland’s repair shop in Liberty. He would tack, sew or glue them in place, often while we waited.
The cost was probably a dime. He half soled and replaced worn heels, too.
His daughter Ruby was in my class when we consolidated from rural Enterprise to Liberty in 1929.
With cold weather, riding the school truck (before buses) in cold weather was unbelievable. There were children from several families who had stories similar to the one above. They did not have heavy coats or jackets or gloves. One big boy did not wear socks. I wonder what they had in their lunch sacks.
Soon the government recognized the plight of these children, and the soup kitchen opened. It was in a house, probably a teacher’s home, across the street from our grammar school (now Blalock’s supermarket in Liberty). Behind it were the Little Red School House, the girls’ dorm, the high school and a boys’ dorm.
Kitchen workers were five or six women who probably received token pay. I know, in later times, such workers received $6 a month for work they did.
Certain children were eligible to eat subsidized meals. Food must have come from government sources.
All parents were encouraged to contribute products. It was nothing to see young folks get on the bus, managing a gallon tin can of milk, sweet potatoes, syrup, meal and such. The usual meal was soup and cornbread. with items added from whatever was on hand.
Our folks contributed items often enough that I was eligible to eat sometimes. It was so much fun, lower grade boys and girls standing close together at wooden tables, laughing and talking. Sometimes there was gingerbread and even hot chocolate.
I think students from high school came to eat after the young ones were served.
This eating arrangement didn’t last a long time. Afterward, the Dave Hughey family lived in the home. I remember spending the night with their daughter Wilma when we were in about eighth grade.
Things have stayed with me: a growing boy, in frigid weather getting on the bus, no socks, no heavy jacket. May we be more aware of other people’s needs and share our blessings more generously.
