When the depression hit hard my mother and dad had been farming at the Andersen’s home farm. Times were bad for everyone and it is impossible to imagine the crisis that came to visit each family. Grandpa had acquired several good farms and at that time had one of the largest accounts in the Blair bank. Grandma and grandpa had moved to Omaha and lived well off of their assets.

As my dad told me the story years later grandpa sold some of his farms to Danish friends who could no longer make payments on them. Grandpa made the mistake of holding a second mortgage on the farms against dad’s objections. Trying to save those properties grandpa mortgaged the home place rather than spend the savings in the bank. When the banks closed his money was gone and he couldn’t payoff the mortgage on the Fontenelle farm.

With one stoke of the pen my grandfather lost all of his farms and the bank closed without enough money to make good on grandpa’s account. There aren’t any words in the language to describe the anger and frustration the family experienced. My mother and dad were summarily asked to leave the property and all they could take with them were their personal belongings.

My brother, Louis, was a baby which further handicapped their options. Mom’s grandmother Bouvier let them stay in her property at Blair and the Stricklett family helped with living necessities. Dad was able to get work in Blair for a while but it wasn’t enough to make ends meet. They left Blair hoping to find work and a better life in Omaha. When they left town they were several months in arrears on the rent but dad promised to pay great grandma as soon as he could get work. He never had the chance because she died before dad was able to do so. Dad later made up the money and gave it to grandma Stricklett. Of course she didn’t want to take it but dad wouldn’t have it any other way. And so the rent money went into the estate of great grandma Bouvier and divided among the heirs. Dad had kept his promise.

I realize I have written about all this before but I want to emphasize what my mother was going through at the time. When they went to Omaha they couldn’t afford to rent housing. Dad parked their car in an alley and left mom and Louis to find work. He was desperate for a job and after a few days was fortunate to find a garage that needed a mechanic. They stayed in the car at night, dad worked during the day and mom somehow managed Louis. Eventually they were able to get a sleeping room and mom was able to get a job as well. She worked for Northrup Jones Bakery which was the nicest one in Omaha. Dad worked nights and she worked days…Louis was juggled in between.

Mom lost a baby between my brother and me but I never knew it until mom told me about it many years later. She never doctored for it and never had complications….it was in the early months. With the raising my mother had it is to her credit that she stuck with my dad. He was a good man it was just “times” that were hard. Life back home would have been much easier but she never looked back. By the time I was born they were still struggling to find better living quarters. One time dad saw cockroaches crawling on me where I slept in a dresser drawer. He worked off-hours to build a small but livable trailer for us to live in and moved us to the west side of Omaha. An asparagus farmer let dad park our trailer there for a small amount of rent.

My first recollections began at that farm. On hot summer nights we would sit on a blanket in the grass and dad would point out the different stars. Mom would always have something good to eat. I don’t remember food being scarce or not liking what we had to eat. She had a way of making things taste as good as they looked. Her earlier work at the bakery helped her with wonderful baked treats. At Halloween she made the red candied apples and pop-corn balls for the kids living at the farm. At Christmas she never failed to make gingerbread men. She had a little generic cake decorator set that she put faces on the cookies with…..and raisins for buttons. I loved to watch her work in the kitchen. She just had an easy way of doing things that came natural to her.

Mom didn’t work anymore after the bakery job. Louis and I could always depend on her being there when we came in from school. Usually the smell of fresh bread would hit us at the door along with other baked goodies. The best thing about mom was she was always there, always ready to listen to your troubles and always tried to make them better……we were important to her…..and best of all…..she loved us.

More about mom tomorrow.
Until then,

Essentially Esther