“The End of the World?” Blog, a few months back, drew heavy reader response. From the tip of South America, Doc queries: “Do you really think Doomsday is coming in three years? That means I’ve got to get in as much travel in a hurry.”
From Lady P.O.: “Wrong. Wrong. I know for a fact that you can’t be right. I just took one of those online Facebook quizzes and it says I’ll live until 2023, which come to think about it, doesn’t give me much time either. More later. I got to get cracking.”
Ruthie was slightly overwhelmed with 8 years of blogging to catch up on. She writes: “As for moving over to the next universe –VERY, VERY
interesting that you came up with the same 12/21/2012 end-of-the-world that I heard was predicted by the Incas or Mayans many centuries ago.”
Karl the Actor is not exactly bewitched by my ability to foretell the future in this e-mail: “O, you who see beyond the illusion what this world truly is!
If the end does come, and mankind is not prepared, you can say, Cassandra-like,
- Can’t say I didn’t warn you.
O, Prophet, O, Seer, a question:
Is schwein flu the harbinger,
the first outrider of the coming apocalypse?
Speak O mighty prophet,
I charge thee.”
Answer to Karl: Sorry, you cannot charge me—I’m a nonprophet operation.
THE GREAT DEPRESSION
From Marcia the Novelist comes her version of what happened to her during the first Great Depression. She is, of course, much younger than I, and as you will see in the next section a much better writer than yours truly, the Blind Blogger.
Palestine, nicknamed “Little Egypt” was an incorporated town with 1200 citizens, 4 churches, 2 saloons, 2 doctors, and a town park with a live zoo. The zoo had 2 black bears, 5 monkeys and a raccoon that someone must have felt sorry for so gave it a home. After the monkey bit a child’s finger (no idea where the parent was), and a bear lumbered off campus one winter, the old boy with the badge closed the zoo, but not the park.
My dad owned 3 farms (of various sizes), a farm implements business, and a grain elevator. The Illinois Central Railroad tracks ran alongside the elevator and carried grain to city markets. Later, during WWII, I would ride the train to attend Indiana University in Bloomington. (My dad had gas stamps for his farms, but didn’t let us use them for family travels).
My best friend was a neighbor named Malcolm. We played with little cars in his front yard that had a big Maple tree. Its huge, lumpy roots stuck out of the ground and made great bridges and tunnels. I’ve loved cars ever since.
At the age of 5 and up, I helped my mother and sister with a yearly Prather Elevator bean soup dinner for all the farmers’ families of the area. With the help of some of the farm wives, my mother prepared bean soup, corn bread, and pie. Crowds of families would come to see the latest John Deere farm equipment… but mainly to have a free meal. In those hard times, many mothers used Prather Elevator sacks to make dresses and shirts for their children.
It was a time of no jobs and starving families. Men would ride the rails to Palestine to beg for food for their families. My Grandpa Prather was the Presbyterian Minister of the town and Grandmother always had a cup and platter out on their back porch to feed the “tramps” and “hobos” that came to ask for food. One day she was busy baking for a church supper. I was 6 and helping her. A hobo came to the back door asking for food and, being pressed for time, sent him away without food. A short while later she asked me to run and get that man so she could give him some food.
I never once heard my family talk about the depression. We had food from our farm close to town to provide us with meat, milk and vegetables. I do recall chocolate pudding with pecans, still a favorite, instead of fancy pastries for dessert. It was a fact… money was hard to come by during the Depression, but we made it. Of course, we didn’t have to give up television, Game Boys, American Girl dolls, or speedboats. We came through those hard times, and maybe are just a wee bit proud of ourselves for not being wimps about it.
Thanks, Harvey, for your memories. It sure brought back lots of my own!
A Firari Safari
A final word from Pambi, “I found Travels with the Blind Blogger interesting and poignant. I would love to read your autobiography one day. Many would love reading about your very interesting and thought provoking life.”
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