Told from the point of view of a mother in the dirty thirties:
Leaving the farm that has belonged to my family for about five generations was
one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Especially when all the while dust covered
everything and my children began to starve because I was unable to provide even a scrap
of food for our table. My husband and I have decided that in order to survive another day
we must find a way to make our way to California so that we may find ourselves
employed again. We are leaving our home tonight but because of how many children we
have everyone has been told that they may only bring a few things along with them.
Packing up the car I had to fight away the tears as I saw each of my children
running down the front porch steps with smiling faces and laughter filling the air for the
last time. As we pulled onto the interstate my youngest son asked me, "Momma, where
are we going?". I could feel him staring with the innocence only a child could posses
waiting for an answer but, my mind began to race when I realized there was no answer to
give him that was a definite possibility. "Someplace greener and cleaner darling,
someplace where there isn't a single patch of dust."
Weeks passed us by when my husband and I realized that things were probably
never going to become better for my family. We have moved from Hoover Ville to
Hoover Ville and have sold almost all of our few possessions that we were able to bring
along with us. As I hear the empty stomachs growl and watch my family wither away to
nothing I am beginning to lose all hope for a better tomorrow.
Love history ~M.R.