Louise

When the depression comes again, will I collect cottage cheese cartons and their lids?  And rubber bands and string?  Will dinner be chunks of bread dipped in last week’s gravy?  Will meat night be fried Spam or wieners cut in half?  Will I learn to darn our socks or have shoes repaired instead of buying new ones? Will I use the lining in an old coat to make a new blouse? Will we take cod liver oil to stay healthy? 

When the depression comes again, will my fixed income dry up?  Will I lose my house and live with my children or in my storage unit?  Or will my children move in with me?  Will we give each other haircuts to save money and will beggars walk door to door for food?  Will I keep a couple of chickens on the enclosed patio for eggs?    Will I rummage through trash cans, stand in a soup line and march on Washington?  Will I lose my teeth?

 

Or will my life continue with a moderate tightening of the belt and instead of dinners out with friends, we will have potlucks and hot dishes made of leftovers?  Will I pick sunflowers for the table and plant tulip bulbs as I did today and notice that the sun is still shining?

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