I Wonder What the Poor Folks are Having Tonight?

I was so lucky to grow up in the heartland of America in the 1950s and 1960s. We were a family of five, three brothers plus the folks. We lived some of those years on the edge of one small town in eastern Indiana, the rest of them on the edge of another. The folks had been born in the early 1920s, so they had come through very tough times during the depression of the 1930s, then made it through the war with my mother at home and my dad in the army in Europe. My mother’s family was very different from my dad’s family. Her side were Democrats since 1932 and stayed that way, but my dad’s side were Republicans since 1860 and stayed that way, too. In the 1930s, my mother’s side suffered and did without many comforts. They were angry at their plight, and hated the people they blamed for it. They were bitter and didn’t laugh much. My father’s side adapted, scrounged, made do, and made real progress toward their economic goals. They valued a sense of humor and loved to tell a joke. They were happy and content, even in the worst of times, directing their energy and love toward their family. They directed much of that love toward me and my brothers. I always wanted to be like them and to be where they were. I take after my dad’s side.