prune picker

This is the blog of a prune picker. (Native born Californian) Retired oilfield. I am an old man. (91) I blog a lot about my body and getting old. As I approach death life gets more interesting. More interesting is not good. I still drive. I attend sports, music, and civic events. I am writing my memoirs. I attend swim class three times a week. Some of my blogs might be interesting. A lot of my blogs are silly and trivial. None are very long.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Lunch in the Great Depression.

The old prune picker (me) lived in Pomona, California during the 1930s.

Times were hard. I remember going to school in the sixth grade. I walked a couple of miles. At lunch time the children would sit on benches under a tree and eat the lunch that they had brought from home. Some walked home for lunch

Often I would not have any lunch and there was not any food at home. I would walk away from school pretending that I was going home, go around a corner,  wait until lunch was over, and then go back to school. I mean times were hard. What did the 11 year old prune picker think about being hungry? I know that I often picked fruit from fruit orchards to get something to eat.

Later in the sixth grade school year I came home to find all of our furniture (not a lot) in a pile in the front yard. We had been evicted for not paying the rent.

When I attended the seventh grade in junior high there was a cafeteria. One of my teachers paid the cafeteria to give me a bottle of milk every day. I like milk. I remember Miss Beach with affection. I can almost see her face. That was 77 years ago.

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