Politics, Poverty, and Prayer #T

1933 and 1934 were the worst of the Dust Bowl years. The  disaster lasted much longer. Politics aside and disregarding that his mother was a staunch Republican,¹ my father had no kind words for President Roosevelt. Over time, and as I began to find interest in the greater world outside the walls, I was able to determine exactly why Dad was not enthused with the Washington administration. Principally it centered around the decision of the President and his “communist”² Secretary of Agriculture, Henry A. Wallace to assist the farmers who had little or no feed for their livestock due to drought and crop failures. The government bought thousands of head of cattle, thereby saving many farmers from loss of their farms and livelihoods. The price paid ranged from four to sixteen dollars a head. (So near as I can learn. I am not an historian, economist, or agronomist.)

Nevertheless, I believe the purchase of the cattle was not the thing that stuck in Dad’s craw. His problem was that while thousands of people in the Dust Bowl area were going hungry, the cattle were slaughtered and buried in deep trenches. It was forbidden by government regulation to use the meat for food. That was not right in my father’s eyes; and he was far from alone, for I have read somewhat about this era. Many people shared his disenchantment with the wonderful wizards of Washington who devised and executed such a thing.

Dad’s sole give-back was his observation that the cattle burial ground along the railroad tracks near the small town in which we lived provided the very best and most lush beds for the lambs quarter which grew wild in the area. These weeds in turn provided part of the nourishment the parents were able to provide for us.  In addition to the weeds, we had a nanny goat, who utilized weeds in her own way by turning them into milk which we consumed. It is not untrue when I tell you I was raised on goat’s milk, for until I was five years of age, I knew no other.

Disastrously, one day the goat died. I don’t know why, and I don’t remember any story relating the incident. But what I do remember hearing about was the prayer meetings we had during family devotions in the home. Mother and Dad both told me that I prayed, along with them, for a productive new goat. They said I concluded my plea, “And please, Lord, give us a white goat.”

A farmer showed up at our house with a nanny goat, claiming she needed a new home. She was white.

God is good.

¹Dad told me that he recalled that when he was a lad, his mother and father “spared the horses the trip to town” on election day, because they both knew that she would mark straight Republican, he straight Democrat, thus cancelling each others vote.
²Or so Dad believed. He was not the only one. Wallace became Vice-president in 1941 and was replaced in that office by Harry Truman in 1945.