My father, a powerfully built
man, was born in Belfast, Ireland, immigrating to the U.S. when he was
12 years old. His father, also powerfully built, was a Blacksmith.
I, having been born and raised during "The Great Depression," can still remember and compare my experiences of those days to those of today. How he was able to do it, I don't know, but my "Da," a Journeyman Pattern Maker and Model Maker, working in wood, plaster and metal, at one time held three different jobs simultaneously (my mother worked simultaneously in two jobs but still was able to find the time and energy to volunteer at a local hospital as a Nurse's Aide.) Neither of my parents complained about the workload and, in fact, went out of their way to conceal from me and my two sisters the extent of the family's financial difficulties and what I subsequently came to realize were their labors of truly herculean magnitude.
The closest I came to realizing there was a problem was during one period in which neither parent was working. Every day, my Da went farther and farther from home in search of work. We had to "go on the dole," forced to go to a government facility to pick up powdered milk, flour, beans, rice and other basics. This was a time when to be "on the dole" was, most definitely, not a desirable position to be in. My mother told me not to worry, that this was only a temporary thing, and we would stop going there as soon as we were able. How hard those days were, I did not realize at the time.
I remember how central to our diet were teapots full of hot, black tea accompanied by "Saltine" crackers. Of course, we drank our tea Irish Style, with sugar and cream. Sometimes, this was three times a day. At other times, my mother would make a "mock apple pie" (with not a trace of an apple.) The saltines, to which were added some sugar and cinnamon powder, substituted for the apples. When we were out of flour, we reverted to just the tea and saltines. Still, I never got the idea that we were "poor." Oh, those were the days!
I, having been born and raised during "The Great Depression," can still remember and compare my experiences of those days to those of today. How he was able to do it, I don't know, but my "Da," a Journeyman Pattern Maker and Model Maker, working in wood, plaster and metal, at one time held three different jobs simultaneously (my mother worked simultaneously in two jobs but still was able to find the time and energy to volunteer at a local hospital as a Nurse's Aide.) Neither of my parents complained about the workload and, in fact, went out of their way to conceal from me and my two sisters the extent of the family's financial difficulties and what I subsequently came to realize were their labors of truly herculean magnitude.
The closest I came to realizing there was a problem was during one period in which neither parent was working. Every day, my Da went farther and farther from home in search of work. We had to "go on the dole," forced to go to a government facility to pick up powdered milk, flour, beans, rice and other basics. This was a time when to be "on the dole" was, most definitely, not a desirable position to be in. My mother told me not to worry, that this was only a temporary thing, and we would stop going there as soon as we were able. How hard those days were, I did not realize at the time.
I remember how central to our diet were teapots full of hot, black tea accompanied by "Saltine" crackers. Of course, we drank our tea Irish Style, with sugar and cream. Sometimes, this was three times a day. At other times, my mother would make a "mock apple pie" (with not a trace of an apple.) The saltines, to which were added some sugar and cinnamon powder, substituted for the apples. When we were out of flour, we reverted to just the tea and saltines. Still, I never got the idea that we were "poor." Oh, those were the days!
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