The Good Old Days?

Recently, some friends were engaged in a conversation about how poor they had been as children. I thought how lucky I was to have never suffered a poor day in my life. Then I began to think about it and I realized that we were dirt poor and I didn't even know it.

We lived in a house out of the grace of a dear friend for little or no rent.

We ate out of another dear friend's garden as much as we wanted. He told us we would be doing him a favor to eat out of his garden, he always over planted and it was a lot of work. We weeded and harvested.

We bought our groceries from the local grocery store on credit and Mom paid when she could.

We got sacks of food when the man running the Bishop's Store House thought we might be needing some. He always told Mom he was just going to throw it out and if we couldn't use it maybe we knew someone who could. I suppose he knew Mom wouldn't take it if she felt it was a handout.

All of our clothes were homemade out of the least expensive remnants. Mom was a genius with the sewing machine.

There were no luxuries at out house, but there was always a pot of beans on for company, and company always came.

Mom had to work two jobs at 75¢ an hour to keep food on the table, a son on a mission and a daughter in college.

Our main form of recreation was sitting on the front porch and visiting. Friends stopped by, they knew we would be on the porch or in front of a big fire in the fireplace. We got firewood from those who just brought it by and left a little of their newly cut cord.

We never asked for anything, we were simply surrounded by people who love us, cared about us, and knew our situation.

Were we poor? Depends on your definition.