The sub-title of this memoir is "A Boy's View of the Great Depression", and it was written long after the "boy" grew up, but it still has some of that childhood innocence that can take the sentimentality out of nostalgia. Lovers of Slightly Foxed memoirs will know what I mean. The author shares his memories of the years of 1930-1938, when he was in grade school in Marion, Illinois. His father had been employed as a miner, and his mother ran a small neighborhood grocery, but in 1930 the local mine was closed down, and business fell off as most customers owed bills they would never be able to pay. There is nothing grim or hopeless in this tale; the Hastings family was resourceful, their father willing and able to take on any job of work that might present itself, and neighbors helped neighbors. Yet, the author does not necessarily agree with those who say "Today's kids have it too easy." "The Depression was a struggle for survival, and any struggle leaves its marks...{but} We can't impose yesterday on today. Each generation has its own problems. Learning to cope with material prosperity may be just as challenging as surviving a Depression...We cannot artificially impose yesterday's problems on today's society and expect instant happiness. This is a simplistic wish for panaceas that fizzles in the arena of reality." I was glad to hear someone of that generation make such a statement. Looking back affectionately on our childhoods is a wonderful thing, no matter what generation we belong to. But asserting that the way we grew up is automatically better than the way "kids nowadays" are doing it has always struck me as fallacious, and I hope I never grow so old that I fall into that trap.
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