My mother was a child of the Depression, born to immigrant parents. Her father died when she was 5. Her mother worked as a maid. Sometimes all they had to eat were beet greens,but her mother was too proud to go to the soup lines. When my mother graduated high school and went to work, the first thing she did was pay off the mortgage on her mother’s house. She married a cousin’s wartime buddy (who had some major injuries). She raised 4 kids with love, warmth, and discipline (though I didn’t truly appreciate her until I had kids of my own). She kept the extended family close and in touch with each other.
Good story. The older generation went through a lot didn’t they. The generation later the kids had it easier.