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In the early sixties we picked a bunch of lambs quarters and cooked it like spinach. A neighbor turned us in to DHS who showed up and tried to take us kids away. My mother met them at the door with a baseball bat. We where not taken away!

Well, that obviously wasn't me. When I had to do home visits, I never said a word about out of season critters hanging in the back or hastily shoved in the freezer (like that wasn't the first place I'd look). It was food, so all was good and to heck with nosey neighbors and Gladys Kravitzs of the world.

I'll never forget one visit I made to a, uh, working gal's house. I told her (loudly enough for the lump under the covers to hear) I'd give her until 4 to get food in the fridge and the porch fixed. I drove by there every couple hours and just laughed. She had all her, uh, male friends there not only fixing the porch and bringing in armloads of food but putting in new windows, fixing the roof, and hauling out trash. I delayed as long as possible so finally stopped in at 7 and there was still one older, uh, gentleman hanging the back door. I never said a word to him or asked how she managed to get the house in order so quickly. There must have been some bartering going on after that because she was never reported again. The kids ended up mainly at the grandma's so that was the best to be expected.