Voices on the Wind Voices from Home
Depression Memories by Sam Love Growing up I remember our backyard smokehouse where hams once dangled from darkened rafters A ramshackle building that leaned to one side a decaying monument to a past I never knew It stood empty as a ghostly reminder of wounds left by the Great Depression a darkened period that altered our life and forced a frugality slow to heal In spring these haunting memories reemerged as we planted a garden to yield arrow straight rows of sweet corn, butter beans, heirloom tomatoes, turnip greens and blood red strawberries In fall this garden yielded a scramble that filled the pantry with crystal jars all lined up as Depression memories in case another economic abyss clinches the family’s belt