It was harder for us to get by than it was for anyone else. Nine children and one on the way, we had a full nest to feed. Even if I was only fourteen, I could understand that. Us older ones, the four of us, we took care of Mama and the five young ones. The boys and Daddy would often go look for work or tend to the home. We didn't have a house, just a couple of supports and a tarp, but it was home. Every night when Daddy got home, he would tell us kids to go up to bed with that same old disappointed expression on his face. We would hear them, Mama and Daddy, talking in hushed voices about the depression and how Daddy hadn't found a job. It got harder and harder every day for us to survive. Often there was no food and we went to bed hungry. On special occasions, Mama would take out the small crumbs that we had managed to save, and split it between us kids. She wouldn't eat though and neither would Daddy. Our Uncle Mike, a government worker would come with five dollars for Daddy every month. For our family, that was a lot of money. Seldom was our whole family together, but when it was we laughed and talked and took photographs together to remember those rare, happy times.
