BassCliff
Ronin
Hi,
My experience wasn't nearly as horrowing, but I can understand a little. When I was a kid (circa 1967) we went through a spell of "food insecurity". We always grew big vegetable gardens, which helped. One day a black sharecropper who went to our church asked my Dad to borrow his kids to help dig his potato crop. There were four of us and two or three sharecropper kids. For three days we ran around behind his mule and plow as he turned the ground and dug the potatoes. We kids had a blast digging in the dirt and filling bushel baskets. At the time I did not realize we were digging sweet potatoes.
The farmer was so grateful that for months after he would drop off a bushel every couple of weeks. We never starved and Mom learned how to cook sweet potatoes every which way. We had sweet potatoes every meal, sweet potato pancakes for breakfast, mashed sweet potatoes for lunch, baked sweet potatoes for supper, sweet potato pie for desert.
After "the year of the sweet potato" I could not stomach any more. I did not eat any sweet potato for fifty years. Even to this day, I might have a spoonful of sweet potatoes with our traditional Thanksgiving meal, just to pay homage to that old sharecropper. The Lord provides. Even a black sharecropper can be an angel.
Thank you for your indulgence,
BassCliff
Where I grew up, there used to be a WWII veteran who had been a POW of the Japanese. In an interview of his experiences as a POW in the hometown local newspaper, he said one thing he will never eat again was rice. That, and bugs they caught were about all they had to eat.
My experience wasn't nearly as horrowing, but I can understand a little. When I was a kid (circa 1967) we went through a spell of "food insecurity". We always grew big vegetable gardens, which helped. One day a black sharecropper who went to our church asked my Dad to borrow his kids to help dig his potato crop. There were four of us and two or three sharecropper kids. For three days we ran around behind his mule and plow as he turned the ground and dug the potatoes. We kids had a blast digging in the dirt and filling bushel baskets. At the time I did not realize we were digging sweet potatoes.
The farmer was so grateful that for months after he would drop off a bushel every couple of weeks. We never starved and Mom learned how to cook sweet potatoes every which way. We had sweet potatoes every meal, sweet potato pancakes for breakfast, mashed sweet potatoes for lunch, baked sweet potatoes for supper, sweet potato pie for desert.
After "the year of the sweet potato" I could not stomach any more. I did not eat any sweet potato for fifty years. Even to this day, I might have a spoonful of sweet potatoes with our traditional Thanksgiving meal, just to pay homage to that old sharecropper. The Lord provides. Even a black sharecropper can be an angel.
Thank you for your indulgence,
BassCliff