Re: The Pineros' Christmas Card From the Depressio... - Page 3

qvcaddition · ‎03-10-2010

@Sooner wrote:
I can't stand to think about that time.

Why? Did you live in that era. Not being critical, just wondered. I have good and not so great memories, but everyone I know helped one another and families.

Sooner · ‎03-10-2010

@qvcaddition wrote:
@Sooner
@Sooner wrote:
I can't stand to think about that time.
Why? Did you live in that era. Not being critical, just wondered. I have good and not so great memories, but everyone I know helped one another and families.

@qvcaddition

Because in the area where I grew up people were literally starving. And the depression left a trail of poverty and hopelessness there that continues today. People lost everything they had, which was so very little to begin with.

Yes growing up I heard stories I'll never forget about what happened to people. Homes lost, sick people dying with no help, no money for food, lots of bums walking the roads and begging at people's doors for food. People actually with nothing.

My grandmother would tell about feeding them although they didn't have much to give either. She would give them some bread or biscuits and they would go on down the road.

I was just really shocked because of what happened where I lived. Not to me, but my parents and grandparents lived it. And they never really got over it either.

qvcaddition · ‎03-10-2010

@Sooner

@Sooner wrote:
@qvcaddition wrote:
@Sooner
@Sooner wrote:
I can't stand to think about that time.
Why? Did you live in that era. Not being critical, just wondered. I have good and not so great memories, but everyone I know helped one another and families.
@qvcaddition
Because in the area where I grew up people were literally starving. And the depression left a trail of poverty and hopelessness there that continues today. People lost everything they had, which was so very little to begin with.

Yes growing up I heard stories I'll never forget about what happened to people. Homes lost, sick people dying with no help, no money for food, lots of bums walking the roads and begging at people's doors for food. People actually with nothing.

My grandmother would tell about feeding them although they didn't have much to give either. She would give them some bread or biscuits and they would go on down the road.

I was just really shocked because of what happened where I lived. Not to me, but my parents and grandparents lived it. And they never really got over it either.

So sorry you heard those stories. I ,m sure they were true, I remember people helping one another. I don,t know how old you are, I,m almost 82 and I still remember the poverty. My Grandmother lost her home and her business and we were very poor.

I also lived through WE11, which was no picnic. Every Generation has crises to live through. I alw".ays remember the saying, "What doesn't,t kill you, makes you stronger". Most of the people from that era learned how to save and some became very wealthy from that era. They were not materialistic like generations later. They knew the value of a penny. Remember, there was not WELFARE as we know today to help. I remember poverty, but I also remember the families closeness. I might be as old as your Grandparents, and I grew up in SAN FRANCISCO, so maybe different parts of the country had it worse. Again, sorry for the memories you were told.

One of the reasons it,s called, "THE GREATEST GENERATION". Survivors, and grateful for what they have and an appreciation for life and wisdom.

Sooner · ‎03-10-2010

@qvcaddition So sorry about your grandmother! What a woman to have been running a business then!

No, you are a lot younger than my mother. And we lived in the Arkansas, Oklahoma, NE Texas area. It was poor there before the depression and destitute afterward around there! There were few resources and people were already living in real shacks--think of what you often see on tv as slave cabins. That was pretty much the type of housing most poor people I know had. Some were still standing (well, or almost standing) when I was growing up, dirt floors and all.

On a brighter note, isn't San Francisco one of the world's most beautiful places? OH MY! I've been there a few times and it is spectacular!

qvcaddition · ‎03-10-2010

@Sooner

@Sooner wrote:
@qvcaddition So sorry about your grandmother! What a woman to have been running a business then!

No, you are a lot younger than my mother. And we lived in the Arkansas, Oklahoma, NE Texas area. It was poor there before the depression and destitute afterward around there! There were few resources and people were already living in real shacks--think of what you often see on tv as slave cabins. That was pretty much the type of housing most poor people I know had. Some were still standing (well, or almost standing) when I was growing up, dirt floors and all.

On a brighter note, isn't San Francisco one of the world's most beautiful places? OH MY! I've been there a few times and it is spectacular!

My Grandmother was a ball of fire. During WWII, she dealt in what they called "Black Market", where you could buy things that were not readily available for a price. Most of her friends were from the underworld. She survived.and raised me, she was a tough old bird. She was hiding boxs of Hersheys choc. under the couch to send to my dad during that war, and I found them and ate a few and gave some to my friends. WOW, I got in trouble. Toda;y, that women could run for President. She came here from Italy at the age of 17 in an arranged marriage. When my Grandfather died, she never remarried. Hated men. Hated him, but was forced to leave home to get married to a man from Italy and live in a strange country, not speak the language. She got tough to survive. She lived in No. Beach and they had a school to teach Italian children or adults English at that time so they could get somewhere in a strange land.

When I left SF to get married in New Mexico in the early 50's, I saw what you mean by poor. On the other side of the tracks from where I lived there were shacks with sacks over the area where the door belong and very poor people. I never experience that in SF. Also, my shock when i got off the train and the sign said whites with an arrow pointing one way and colored, (called then), with an arrow pointing the other way. I had black and white and asian friend in school, also Italian, kids all poor and all nationalities, SF was a very liberal city. We as children didn't know how people lived in the South at that time.

I love my City by the Bay and live in Sonoma County now, but get on the Ferry at least once a year to shop and browse at the Ferry Bldg. and the Embarcadero Center. We have a train system here that wil go all the way to SF soon, but goes to the Ferry now. Everytime Tony Bennett sings, "I left my heart in SF", I cry. That will be my memorial song. Got to see him two years ago at the Green Center at SSU. What a performance. Merry Christmas

Sooner · ‎03-10-2010

@qvcaddition I LOVED your story! THANKS so much!

I vaguely remember some of the colored/white water fountains but not much more. What I do remember is that although communities were segregated, I remember my dad always being nice to people of all colors, addressing all older people as Mr. or Mrs. and taking Christmas boxes with food for the feast and other meals and snacks to people we cared about, black and white.

We didn't live in the deep south, but more south/southwest, but I remember we were all kinder to one another of all colors way back then, and I think had more respect for people for who they were. Even though there was segregation, somehow when you got right down to the people we lived around, we all got along and liked one another. If that makes any sense, we were more aware of the people inside than the color outside than it seems to be today. . . all of us. And people of all colors came to visit my dad in the nursing home--which says it all to me. Most people of any color shy away from that.

Thanks for the stories and memories and I wish I had known your grandmother! Sounds like my kind of people!

qvcaddition · ‎03-10-2010

@Sooner

@Sooner wrote:
@qvcaddition I LOVED your story! THANKS so much!

I vaguely remember some of the colored/white water fountains but not much more. What I do remember is that although communities were segregated, I remember my dad always being nice to people of all colors, addressing all older people as Mr. or Mrs. and taking Christmas boxes with food for the feast and other meals and snacks to people we cared about, black and white.

We didn't live in the deep south, but more south/southwest, but I remember we were all kinder to one another of all colors way back then, and I think had more respect for people for who they were. Even though there was segregation, somehow when you got right down to the people we lived around, we all got along and liked one another. If that makes any sense, we were more aware of the people inside than the color outside than it seems to be today. . . all of us. And people of all colors came to visit my dad in the nursing home--which says it all to me. Most people of any color shy away from that.

Thanks for the stories and memories and I wish I had known your grandmother! Sounds like my kind of people!

Your Welcome, also to you. I inherited a lot of my Grandma spunk. I am a very strong women. Live alone, take care of myself. Very independent.

My grandma loved my neighbor who has also passed. I got a lot of stories about Mississippi from him and wish he had written a book. Smart man. His daughter lives in the house now, she is alright, but a little racist. He never was. I would get dirty looks from people whenever we had dinner together or went somewhere shopping. I didn't care, we were truly good friends and didn't see the color barrer. I still don't today. I make friends with people for who they are, not how they look. What ever side of the fence they are on, I don't care if i like them. I have The United Nations in my family through the marriages of my grandchildren. It's all good. Nice conversing with you and thanks for your information. Your Father sounds like a good solid man.