[WVNan]

I guess my childhood in rural Tenn. during the Depression years made me intolerant of selfishness. People don't know what deprivation is these days in America.

[Pippin]

It must be something in growing up during that time and in that place. My dad grew up during the depression, he was born in 1932, the beginning of the depression, in east Tennessee. He, too, cannot tolerate selfishness.

[MistyCA]

I know what it is, but only through the eyes of my relatives who cared to share the depression years with me. My uncle is eloquent in the way he talks about his life experiences. There are two memories that he talks about that live with me always. The first is the first time he ever saw his mom get on her knees and pray. My grandfather and grandmother had a little farm in Wisconsin. They raised the only crop they could on the land...tobacco. One year the tobacco crop came in but the prices were very low so my grandfather decided to keep it until the prices got better. Instead of having the money from selling the crops that winter, he would go up into the hills and work for the lumber company. While he was up there, he got sick and died. My grandmother was beside herself but did what she could to run the farm herself. But one night there was a great fire that started by itself as the tobacco heated up in the barn...spontaneous combustion. The farm was destroyed. My grandmother was barely able to sell what was left and pay the creditors. She moved into the Twin Cities with her three children and found whatever jobs she could sewing.

They would sleep during the summers in the park and save up enough money to pay for a one room attic flat in the winters. My grandmother spoke little english and had a hard time getting enough work, but she finally went to work in a factory sewing. Then the union came along and took money from her check to give to the Abraham Lincoln Brigade! She was outraged! They took her hard earned money and gave it to the Communists, she said!

Well, that is how it went for them for years, but in spite of that, my mom was the validictorian of her graduating class and she won the state spelling championships over the years.

Back to my story. My uncle watched his mom on her knees praying and wondered what was wrong. Surely something, because he had never seen that before. The next day, however, he went to school and opened his lunch bag to find two fish heads....all she had been able to scounge for his lunch. If you ask my uncle today if he wants fish, he abruptly says "NO!"

But he also recalls another time when they had no food and his mom asked him to please take the 2cents they had and go to the grocer and ask him to break a loaf of bread because they could not afford the entire loaf. It was winter time again. My uncle was proud and embarrassed that he could not go buy the entire loaf. It was 3 cents and he only had 2. He stumbled along to the store, walking slowing and praying to God that he would be spared that embarrassment. Suddenly he tripped and fell in the street. Right there in front of him was a penny! He checked his pockets to see if it was one of his pennys! It was not! He now had 3 cents and could run to the store and buy an entire loaf of bread!

[LadyX]

That is so true, Nan.
My grandmother in Orlando and my grandparents in South Carolina were seldom actually seen in my lifetime.

Nonetheless, from earliest memory I was taught to cherish them and the lives they lived, and respect them.

Not one of them - having numerous progeny and grandchildren and great grandchildren - ever, ever gave me a Christmas present - but I never equated that with love!
They gave me examples of triumph, and the sense of reverence - especially my minister grandfather and his wife, beloved by all in the small town to which they retired.
What they gave to life in their many years was imparted to thousands in towns and big cities all over South Carolina.

The gift they did give was precious special letters on my birthdays - and the one for my birth my grandfather penned to my parents with his wish for my life!

The commandment is to honor your Mother and Father... and all those before them - in thought and deed.
We become the giver of the gift that is passed down.

Among my best memories is when I won the Florida Spelling Bee in 1947 to represent the state in the National one in Washington, D.C.
My grandparents in South Carolina listened to the competition on the radio, and I was elated they could be proud of me.

There also was the Sunday in 1952 during the Korean Conflict when I visited them on a weekend from Parris Island, and they insisted I wear my U.S. Marine Corps uniform to the service and sit in front.
My stately grandfather was still preaching and my dear grandmother playing the piano - a cousin sang, Bless This House.

Yes - memories of the heart at Christmas, and of those who shaped our hearts ~ ~ ~

(thanks, Mom & Dad, long gone, but still cherished and remembered.)