What has this old world come to that this is news?

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I remember growing up when we had to carry lunch to school because mother could not afford to pay for hot meals for all of us.  I do not recall what we had for lunch, but it was in a paper bag and we were under strict orders to bring the bag and all of the contents home after school.  The next morning we carried the same bag to school.  Waxed paper and everything was reused.

Looking back I can see the discrimination that was alive and well even then.  The tables for lunch were set up in the hallway down the center of the first floor.  They ran all the way between the first grade class room and the second and third grade  classroom.  We were not allowed to eat at the end closest to the kitchen.  Our designated place was at the end of the table nearest the stairs that started at the door of the fourth grade class and ran up to the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th grade classrooms.

Since the Bartholomew kids were the only ones that had to carry their lunches we ate alone.  The expanse of table that ran from where we were to where the "hot lunch" kids ran was an expanse that I never conquered.  Every night I prayed that we would be rich and could afford hot lunches, but it never happened.

Every morning the smells from the school kitchen rose through the whole school.  Mrs. Ritchie could make my mouth water and my stomach cramp with those aroma's that wafted through the halls.  As sad as this may seem to you, I can still feel the humiliation of those days.  There was no such thing as a "free lunch".  Mother explained that if she had the money to pay for lunch for 3 or 4 of us kids that she could buy groceries to cook food for the whole family.  I did not understand that back then and thought she was just mean, but now I do.  Mother always said "Hind sight is 20/20 looking back."

We would steal sideways glances at the "hot lunch eaters" and as long as I had a sister with me, I was alright.  It was just that when I was alone, it was like I was on an island in the middle of the poverty ocean.  I did not resent the kids that could afford hot lunches, but I resented the fact that I was not allowed to set near them.  It was kind of like I had a disease and might contaminate them.  I want you to know that I can put myself in Anya Howard's shoes the only difference being that I lived it 5 days a week when school was in session.

I have since grown into a woman and sometimes talk to people who can remember back when they carried a lunch to school.  One lady told me how her lunch usually consisted of a potato sandwich.  Another carried carrots.  A man told me "nothing".

Today, I can laugh about those days of poverty.  I have not missed a meal in years and it shows.  I love my mother fiercely and I am very proud of my heritage.  I am proud that I grew up in Nickerson, Kansas on the dead end street called North Strong Street.  It is that backbone that drove me to make sure my kids had hot lunches and never missed a meal.  It is that background that makes my heart ache when a little girl is embarrassed by a woman that could have and should have paid for her meal.
Where is our compassion?  Are our hearts so cold that we can not see the hunger in a little girls eyes? I have tried to convey to my children love thy neighbor, do good to them that spitefully use you, and pray for those who persecute you.  I think they get it.  And I will pray for the cafeteria lady and the rules that made her do what she did.

Every day is a new day and a chance to do better and help our fellow man.

School lunch

I woke up in the middle of a dream this morning.  It might be more accurate to say "My nightmare woke me up!"  I dreamed it was the first day of school and I was trying to make a check out for school lunches.  I knew I had 5 kids and lunches were $3.29 each, but Patty would not eat meatloaf so I would need to pack her a lunch that day, whatever day that was.  Debbie wanted to take her lunch and she only ate mashed potatoes on home made bread.  Donna, Sam and Susie were happy just to eat.  I was out of cat food and the dogs were barking their heads off about some silly thing or another and I better get out of this bed or I was going to be late for work. I was very relieved to open my eyes and look up at my lavender ceiling and remember that my kids were grown and gone and I was alone here on my acre.  Well, not happy to be alone, but very happy to remember that I had raised my kids and they had raised theirs and school lunches were no longer a daily problem for me to face.  Maybe I was dreaming I was my mother.  God sends me those dreams a lot!

I remember growing up on Strong Street and Mother would be frustrated and she would say "I hope some day you get married and have a bunch of kids and they all behave just like you!"  In later years I was to tell her that the curse worked.  I had  5 kids, just like she did; 1 boy and 4 girls.  I had always thought I was such a sweet little thing growing up, but here were these 5 kids and they were the busiest kids I had ever seen.  What I had done growing up, was called survival and as I look back I guess they were doing the same.

We had run the dirt roads in our bare feet and our idea of fun was a clod fight.
My kids egged the neighbors house.

Jake decided one day to bring his 22 rifle and see how close he could come to the top of my head.
My kids took 10 month old Susie down to Cow Creek to baptize her one night before I got home from work.

I watched a Black Widow spider hatch babies behind the door of the chicken house.
My kids gave the cat a bath.

I smoked Catalpa beans.
They stole the neighbors flowers.

I used to run across the top of the pig sty's at the neighbors house and upset the old hogs.
Don't think the kids topped that one.

We used to spy on Hank Wingate when he milked his goat.
My kids watched Saturday morning cartoons.

Howard Fein used to make his false teeth jump out at me and scare the livin' pee wadding out of me.
My kids cleaned their room by shoving every thing under the bunk beds and pulling the top sheet down to the floor.

So, now these many years later I am still haunted by my mother's curse.  I wonder if I every cursed my kids like that and scarred them for life?  I must have because I had 5 kids on my own and they have produced 8 total.  I have 8 grand kids that sprang directly from my loins (This is not to count the step, adopted and foster) and my grandchildren have given me a total of ...OK, this is where I lose count.  I adopted a grandson who became my son who now has a son that is legally my  grandson, but if he were not my son, this would be my great grandson.  So when you ask me how many grand kids I have I will tell you 20 grand kids and a lot of great grand kids. And it is way to early in the day to start off confused when all I wanted to tell you was about the school lunches.

And there, dear people, is the reason I am screwed up like I am.  It is the curse my mother put on me all those years ago.  She did, before her death, apologize many times and I told her many times that it was quite alright because I have a good life and my kids survived my raising them.  Of course I sometimes hear them recounting the memories of growing up in Hutchinson and Garden City  and I wonder how they survived my raising them!

Sorry, kids, but momma did the best she could with the knowledge she had at that time.  Sam taught me that.