BY LYDIA MAYFIELD
I was walking into town along the railroad track with five children, our three and my sister's two that we were keeping for the summer or possibly for the duration. It was during the worst part of the Depression. My husband who was busy cutting hay suggested that I take the old Ford. But I decided to walk. There was at least a half tank of gas in the car, but where we would ever get the money for any more gas was so uncertain, I decided to walk. If we took the short cut along the railroad track it was only five miles. We did a lot of walking during the Depression.
I was feeling very discouraged, dismal, desperately poor and hopeless. It was really a little thing that had got me into such low spirits, but it seemed like a disaster that morning. I had at least a bushel of good green beans to can and plenty of jars and not a lid in the house. Like all the other farmers, we already owed the grocer a big bill and he had gone on an all cash basis.
My only hope was to try to trade him two dozen eggs to be delivered in a week or so for a box of lids. Eggs were six cents a dozen, a box of lids cost eleven cents. Our hens were in a summer slump and were not laying well. I was sure he would refuse but I still was determined to try. I needed to can those beans.
Really we were very fortunate compared with many city people during the Depression. We had our own meat, milk, butter, eggs and vegetables and even managed to trade our wheat for flour at a nearby mill. We had plenty to eat, but money was something very different. A penny looked as big as a dollar and we did not get our hands on many pennies. The purse I was carrying contained four pennies hoarded for stamps. It cost two cents to send a letter, and the post office always demanded cash.
The children ran on ahead. It was a lark for them to run along the tracks picking flowers and finding odd bits of rock and trash. I walked slowly behind them feeling low, dismal and very poor and sorry for myself when I noticed a small roll of dirty paper with a rubber band around it that the children had missed. I unfolded it and I could hardly believe my eyes. It was money. Real money! Three one dollar bills. I felt as if I had suddenly come into a fortune. I rubbed off the dust and put the precious bills into my purse. Instead of a hopelessly poor woman, I was suddenly full of strength and hope.
I walked into that little grocery store with new courage and self-assurance. I had money enough to pay for a whole sack full of groceries. I really splurged. I bought not one box of lids, but a whole dozen, enough for canning all my beans and the apricots and peaches that would soon be ready as well, a five pound sack of sugar, a canister of salt and two real luxuries. And the biggest luxury of all, a ten cent sack of candy. You got a lot of candy for a dime at that time. Best of all, I had a whole dollar and seventeen cents left in my purse.
After resting for a short time in the town park, we walked back home nibbling on the candy as we walked. I am sure the children got rather tired before we were home but not I. That three dollars had transformed me. Things never seemed so hard after that day. Maybe economic conditions really improved a bit or maybe it was the self-assurance and new hope that little roll of dusty bills gave me.
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