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Anonymous Author


We stood in bread lines. We slept on "trustee" mattresses, drank "trustee" powdered milk, ate "trustee" canned corn--beef, wore "trustee" shoes and clothing, lived in "trustee" houses, burned "trustee" coal. We existed. We are today's young men and women. We were yesterday's children. We carry the scorch of the depression. Our parents knew what they were fighting. We knew only what we heard in the muted conversations of our parents, the look on our father's face when he came home from tramping the streets all day looking for a job or just sitting on the Court House steps.



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