"Who ever heard, indeed, of an autobiography that was not interesting? I can recall none in all the literature of the world."

Henry Louis Mencken, American Humorist, Journalist


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Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Growing Up During the 1930's - As Told To Me

An acquaintance in his mid-70's recently shared the story of his childhood during the Great Depression, and gave me permission to use it on the blog.

Bill was born in Oklahoma in 1932. His mother was of full Cherokee ancestry, and his father was of caucasian ancestry. Soon after his birth the family came to California, where the parents parted due to marital problems.

He remembers living in a small house with a picket fence near an airfield, in the San Fernando Valley. When he was four or five years old he watched parachuters coming down during practice there. Bill and his brother played in the backyard, which was large. He says lots were bigger then.

Bill's mother became ill and he was sent to live in an orphanage of about ten children, which was somewhere in Los Angeles. He remembers his father coming to get him, and taking him to a hospital where his mother lay in bed. She died from pneumonia, and Bill and his brother went to live with his father.

Bill's father worked on farms in the California Central Valley. They lived in a tent. Bill remembers his father dragging a long bag when picking cotton. Bill would sit on the bag to go for a ride while his father pulled it along.

At Christmas when Bill was about six years old he got his first toy. The Christmas Tree was a dried out cotton stalk with cotton balls on it for ornaments. For Christmas Bill got a little car, about four inches long. Up until Bill was ten years old he played with make-believe toys. A block of wood might be a car or a tractor. Bill said he would push these blocks around and make motor sounds, "Vvvrooooom" or "put-put-put."

When Bill was six years old or so, he began working in the fields too, picking cotton or doing other work. He went to school off and on, but the regular farmwork was necessary for survival.

He said his father eventually put some money down on a house, perhaps around 1937. It did not have plumbing or electricity, and was small, about, 600 square feet.Once a week or so they would take a bath in a large metal tub. For a bathroom there was a place with a blanket hanging over a tree limb for privacy, and a hole in the ground with a shovel nearby.

They often only had one type of food at a meal. But Bill says there would be large servings to help them have energy for work. To this day Bill's favorite place to eat is at a buffet where there is a huge variety. They ate very quickly in order to get back to work. Bill says he still eats in a hurry, as eating slowly would have been a luxury.

They didn't have much money. But Bill says he always knew he was loved by his father and brother when he was growing up, both of whom have passed away. When he was growing up he didn't know they were poor, so he just accepted life as it was.

Bill said that he likes to think that when people pass away they become stars, and the good people are the brightest stars.

When Bill was 11, and his brother was 13 years old, his brother managed to join the military service, during WW II. Bill went to school sporadically, as he was needed for field work so they could survive. After the eighth grade he did not attend school any more at all.

When he was about 17 he, too, joined the military service, and he went to Korea. He was injured twice, stabbed by a bayonet, and then hit by shrapnel, and sent to Japan for medical care and recovery.

Hearing Bill H. tell about growing up during the Great Depression gives a personal insight into history. Today Bill, age 74, lives in a beautiful home in Greentrees Village, Florence, Oregon, where he enjoys the Oregon coast scenery. There's a swimming pool heated to the high 80's, a jacuzzi, and other amenities.

It's been a long time since the Great Depression. The memories of the good times he shared with his father and brother are always close to his heart.

Thank you, Bill, for sharing this story.

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