I remember my mother telling me of men knocking on our door in Edmonton in the early 40's asking if they could work for a meal. My mother had been in that position herself after her first husband died of TB in his 20's leaving her with two very young young children and she never turned them away. Sweep the sidewalk, take the garbage to the lane way, weed the garden for a few minutes, there was always something for them to do and she always found them a cup of coffee and something to eat. She always said it was important for them to work so it was not a handout, they worked for it.
My wife's grandmother fed the hobos. She had a little shed with a table, a few chairs, even a little stove for the winter months. Her husband was a roller in an ironhouse, he kept orchards and a truck garden-they were Welsh. The hobo fraternity had a mark on the whistle marker warning of the next intersection, it also told the hobos where to get off the freight train. They lived on top of an old coal mine, so the train was going slow because of the hill. Marie fed thousands of men during the depression. My wife's family uses Marie for a middle name for all of the first born females.
ReplyDeleteVery poignant. Thanks for that Croft.
ReplyDeleteDuring WW II, my parents took in two people who, after many years, became part of our family. My parents saw WW I, the Depression, WW II and so on. No wonder people from that era were good at living.
ReplyDeleteNowadays in Canada, the government simply GIVES people money. It's a pretty soft society compared to back then.
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