My Dad was telling me some stories today that I can say I have never heard before. He was 14 years old working with his dad in a potato field. They would sleep under ground in the potato house. There were at least 40 men working and sleeping there as well. All nationalities and races. Every day you'd have things stolen, but you were not able to take these items with you to the field, so it was expected and the men would leave as little as possible on their cots. One day, the owner told the men, even though it had rained all weekend and was pouring still, that they had to pick in the mud. All 40 men refused and walked off the job. My grandfather and father were walking down the road hoping to catch a ride and another potato owner offered them work. My dad would sit on the potato truck all day pushing potatoes so they could fit more on the truck, my grandfather would supervise the pickers. $12.00 a week between the two. Than they would walk to the Western Union and pay .75 cents to send my grandmother $10.00.
You have to love these stories, as they are passed down to another generation. Makes one wonder what stories will sound like when written in 2063 titled "2011 Story from my Father & Mother"?
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