The Value in a Pocket

I have always been interested in exploring my heritage. I have never missed an opportunity to dig around old junk in the attic or garage, even with some mysterious lung disease lingering around the corner. I had this opportunity a few weeks ago to explore my deceased grandparent's garage attic. Not knowing what I would find, I was extremely excited. My brother and I climbed up on a very questionable ladder, watched our step on rotted floorboards, and avoided the tetanus a few inches from the soon to be treasures.

On a nail, I found what was soon to be one of the greatest treasures I would ever find. On this nail, was a raggedy old coat, not exactly shining cold on a bed of diamonds. The holes and stains made the perfect disguise for gem that lied inside. As I pulled the coat off the nail, my brother looked at me like I was nuts, he never understands why I am so interested in old pieces of junk.

This piece of junk opened my eyes to the struggles that others have faced, even my own family. As I reached into the pocket of that old coat, I found a note, from my great grandfather to my great grandmother. From the letter, I gather that my great grandmother must have been out visiting family or something out of state, because the body of the note read, "I love you, but you'll have to find your own way home, I can't afford to buy your train ride back. I even had to borrow the penny for this stamp."

That was shocking. I knew my family never had a lot of money. Growing up, money for my immediate family was tight, but I never had to worry about my next meal. My dad tells me, money was a bit more of a worry growing up for him. He went right into the army after high school for a few years, which probably allowed him to go to college because his parents would have never been able to help out. But I never imagined that my heritage had so many financial struggles that my great grandfather would have to borrow a penny.

I should have expected this find, however, after all, my great grandfather lived through the Great Depression as a farmer. So, I should have expected that my family would have been greatly affected by the Dust Bowl. I suppose I simply did not make the connection between what I read in my history books and real life. I always imagined that the Dirty Thirties only affected the southern states, not my home state of South Dakota and certainly not my family. Yet the devastation that the biggest drought in U.S. extended far beyond what I had originally learned about and what I believed.

Finding a simple letter in the pocket that must have belonged to my great grandmother’s coat has brought to reality how different life was almost a century ago. My family was faced with many financial burdens, yet somehow, they made it work. From stories I hear that my great grandparents were some of the hardest working individuals around. Like many in the thirties and forties, they would not settle for anything handed to them. If they were to get some money or a meal, they would earn that cash by hard work. Even when my great grandfather didn’t have a penny to his name.

Who knew that I would find the greatest treasure in my explorations in the pocket of a beat up and worn out coat. This simple letter was so valuable to me, not because a curator would pay big bucks for its placement in a museum someday, but because it gave me a new look on life. I have learned more about the devasting affects on a major economic crash on my own family. Assumptions I have previously made about poverty have also been crushed. Hard work does not always bring in the big bucks. My great grandfather never stopped working a day in his life, still in order to send his wife a letter, he had to borrow a penny.