Talk about having it rough
Tonight at dinner my family and I were talking about how life has gotten more difficult for a lot of people in recent months.
Then we began to talk about how life was for my parents when they were about my age (26). My father worked at a train depot and cleaned out the soiled spittoons 70-year-old men used. My mother and father lived in an old trailer in South Dakota that often froze from the inside out when it snowed. The trailer was located near a brothel, and “John’s” would occasionally mistake their home for the “fun” trailer. My dad got laid-off for almost a year, and in the meantime, created hats out of paper for their puppy, scrappy.
Then, we began to talk about how my grandparent’s lives were when they were beginning their life together. My grandfather, the youngest of 12 siblings, helped keep the house together, and began working at a young age to care for his sisters and mother. He also protected his mom and siblings from his father. For Christmas, they only recived broken toys from the Salvation Army. My grandmother made her clothes so no one would know how rough she had it. My grandma and grandpa eloped when they were teens to Washington to get married before my grandfather went to war. And before he left, she got pregnant with my mom. The first time he saw my mother she was a toddler.
I know it’s really bad for a lot of folks out there now. But, for a lot of us, it isn’t that bad. Just something to consider.