The title of this blog entry is deceiving; it is actually the exact opposite of what it is about sort of. I should be able to give you some insight into living through the depression years; the story here is that I can’t give you that insight. What I just said is the sad part. You see both of my parents were just nine years old at the start of 1930. Born in 1921, my father on March 9th, 1921 and my mother on march 10th, 1921. They fell in love with each other in the third grade, married in 1942 and stayed married and in love to each other for the next 63 years. What some of that means is that they were 19 years old at the start of 1940; you could say they lived through the great depression of the 1930’s. Because I never really knew anything about the depression years, other than what I picked up in high school or other places along the way, that may be the reason I never asked my parents about the depression. I wonder know if me not asking them was a blessing to them. Did they both choose to intentionally withhold information from me? Was it something they agreed to do or did it just silently happen between them somehow? If it was because it was too painful to want to remember, then it is good I never asked. If it just didn’t come up, then how sad that those times for them never got shared with the next generation. What a wonderful accounting and fabulous wealth of knowledge I would possess about one of Americas most important decades. I now hope they didn’t have it too bad during that time; maybe they were some of the more fortunate folks. I also wonder why our school system didn’t think it was important enough to teach me enough to think about asking them about it. They are both gone know; how I wish I had this class just a few years earlier. Sorry I can’t share some insider info with you all.
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