Told from the point of view of a mother in the dirty thirties:

Leaving the farm that has belonged to my family for about five generations was

one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Especially when all the while dust covered

everything and my children began to starve because I was unable to provide even a scrap

of food for our table. My husband and I have decided that in order to survive another day

we must find a way to make our way to California so that we may find ourselves

employed again. We are leaving our home tonight but because of how many children we

have everyone has been told that they may only bring a few things along with them.

Packing up the car I had to fight away the tears as I saw each of my children

running down the front porch steps with smiling faces and laughter filling the air for the

last time. As we pulled onto the interstate my youngest son asked me, "Momma, where

are we going?". I could feel him staring with the innocence only a child could posses

waiting for an answer but, my mind began to race when I realized there was no answer to

give him that was a definite possibility. "Someplace greener and cleaner darling,

someplace where there isn't a single patch of dust."

Weeks passed us by when my husband and I realized that things were probably

never going to become better for my family. We have moved from Hoover Ville to

Hoover Ville and have sold almost all of our few possessions that we were able to bring

along with us. As I hear the empty stomachs growl and watch my family wither away to

nothing I am beginning to lose all hope for a better tomorrow.

Love history ~M.R.