As I look back into the crystal ball of time,
I see the image of a small boy of four on
a cold winter's day in December, hurrying
down the railroad tracks in an attempt to
keep up with his aging Grandmother.
He Stumbles along in a pair of black and white
high-top tennis shoes, two sizes too big, no socks.
Wearing a patched pair of over-alls too short, and
a hand-me down ugly green jacket with no buttons.
He clutches the front of the worn jacket with his right
hand in an attempt to ward off the bite of the bitter
North wind. Large Snow flakes begin to cover his little
blond curls. In his left hand he struggles
with a string sack of oranges that his Grandmother
received from the local Welfare Office.
His Grandmother scolds; "Will you hurry up! This sack
of potatoes ain't getting any lighter you know!"
The year was Nineteen Thirty Seven, the location was a
small town in central Missouri. Christmas was two days
The Great depression was in full swing and the world
was suffering from its misery and pain.
A child’s first impressions are truly indelible!
And I can still see, that poor little boy from Walnut
Street,and sixty-eight years later, he still shivers from
the thought of that bitter December wind.