Young Writers Society

This story is about a guy during the Great Depression who later joins the Civilian Conservation Corps, which is the main topic. It's not completely done yet, editing wise. If you don't know what the CCC is, then click>>> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Conservation_Corps

Living the life I live now, looking back on my life five years ago seems like a blur. I remember the hard times, after the layoffs, and the shortage of food and the impossibility of earning money. It was a hard time for most folks, people were dying of hunger, not having anywhere to sleep at night, or their whole life’s work on a farm now covered in dust. Looking back on that time, on all the hard times other people lived through, the hardest time in my life seemed easy and simple compared to theirs. I realize now that the burden I thought I had, was a merely nothing compared to what others went through.

I grew up in New York City, my family lived in a good neighborhood, not wealthy, nor poor. I was part of a large family. My parents, Timothy and Margret Renolds. I had one brother, Gregory, who was 12 at the time, and three sisters, Nancy, 17, Mary, 10, and Lynn, 8. At nineteen, I was still living at home. I graduated high school with honors at 17, but my family never had enough money to send me to college. My father was the owner of a small grocery store in the heart of the city, and I worked for him part time. We were all very proud of him, how well he was doing as a store owner, until the stock market crash of 1929. That was a tough time for me and my family.

When the stock market crashed, my father’s store took a beating. He had to lower produce prices so it would sell while it was fresh, and then he had to lower prices on everything else for people to even step foot inside. After not making enough profit to keep his employees, he decided he’d have to close up the shop. With only my mother’s part time sewing job, we couldn’t support our seven person family. That crash ruined our lives, we hardly had money before the crash, and after, it just got worse. My mother, my father, myself, and my eldest sister Nancy tried real hard to keep our house and put food on the table. We worked so hard, we took any job we could get.

We lived through hard years of barely scraping by. My father fell sick in March of 1933. Soon after, he died, the doctor said it was from bacteria in something he ate. He was old, and his body was weak and couldn’t fight off the disease. My family ate whatever we could find, I bet it was from some food we ate out of the trash of the wealthy. We knew it was an awful idea to eat others’ trash, but there were some nights that we didn’t have anything else. After my father died, I knew there was no way we could survive. I had heard about boys joining the CCC, a recent public work program, started by our new president, Franklin Roosevelt. I’d done lots of hard work before, to support my family, so I knew this was the opportunity I needed to help my family out of the rut we’d been living in the past four years. I was twenty-three, and it was time I stepped up and took my father’s place as the man in the family.

I signed up for CCC soon after, on June 15th of 1933, I felt I couldn’t wait any longer. After signing my name across that clean, white paper I felt that I was changing my life. The following week I packed up my few clothes and only pair of shoes. When I said my final goodbye to my family, mother cried, but I could tell that she was proud of me.

The other boys on the train and I all looked unsure about the decision we just made. We were all city boys, and we didn’t know anything about farming or planting. Most of us knew about hard work though. I recognized a lot of guys from my high school, who I knew had similar stories to my own. All of the guys on the train made small talk to lighten the mood. After about 10 hours on the train, we stopped in Chicago to refuel, and pick up more men. I enjoyed the chance to walk around after sitting for half the day. Finally, after what seemed like years, we made it to Idaho. I had never been this far west in my entire life, nor this far away from home. The plains were barren and dry, but there were hundreds of farms and more cows than I’ve ever seen.

We stopped in Boise, Idaho. The city seemed so familiar, like I was back in New York. After days of dirt and dust, I missed the grime and smoke of the city. I missed Mother and my family too, but I really missed Father. I’ve been thinking about him on this journey, I wanted him to tell me I was doing the right thing, for the family. But I never got an answer. The train squeaked to a stop, and we grabbed our bags from the storage shelves above our heads, and filed into an old school bus just like we were told, by one of the army captains running our camp and new home.

The bus that had room for only 50 kids, but we were told to get in, all 80 of us men, plus our bags. I sat down next to a man, who grinned, showing me his ugly yellow teeth, which were a perfect match for his greasy hair.

After a short ride, the bus pulled up to what looked like an army base. Father used to talk about his time in the army during World War I. I’d never seen an army camp, but this looked pretty close to how Father had described it. There were lots of buildings, and hundreds of men in dirty shirts and work boots. We were told the men there were local boys, and we were the first group of easterners to be brought in, since it was the early days of the CCC. The land there was beautiful, but I missed my family, and I couldn’t help but wonder how my life here was gonna be.

The first month of work was tough. We planted trees in valleys, and built dams to conserve water, I even helped put out the biggest fire I’ve ever seen, one of those big ones that starts in the forest. My favorite part is that we’re building a State Park for the wildlife who can’t survive in the dry plains in the neighboring states. We planted thousands of little saplings among the big trees already standing.

It’s been now four months at the camp, and I’ve sent about $100 dollars home to my family. According to the letter I’ve been sending to mother, her and Nancy have gotten full time jobs as seamstresses for a wealthy family in Brooklyn. I’ve also gained more weight and muscle, and I’m finally recovering from four years of starvation, and mother said the family did too. I get five dollars of spending money a month, which goes to postage stamps and a hamburger in town every once and a while. I don’t like blowing my money on beer, like most of the other guys at camp.

I got my first vaccination in a long time today, an injection to prevent typhoid fever. I recall years ago I got one for measles when I was young. There are some boys at camp who come from farms in Nebraska and don’t know how to read or write. Apparently they come from generations of illiterate folk. Knowing those basics already, I’ve been taking some advanced mathematics classes from one of the camp leaders. He was a former banker, who was laid off when the stock market crashed. According to him, I’m at an advanced level for my age. It was then I decided that when I got out of the CCC, I was going to do whatever it took to get into college or get a steady job, so I could use my math skills and learn even more.

It seemed like the years zipped by, but after two years it was time to leave the CCC. As much as I would miss my new friends I made here, it was time for me to return home and start a new career. While I was packing my clothes and other belongings, the man who ran the camp came into my cabin. I remember being scared of this tall, muscular man the first day I arrived at the camp, now I almost measure up to him to muscle, but not in height. Although, even then, two years later, he still worried me.

The man walked over her as calm as could be and looked me right in the eye. What happened next surprised me, and it always has, and always will. He offered me a payroll job here at the camp. Those spoken words took me by surprise. The camp leader who was teaching me mathematics while I was at camp was taken by my abilities. Apparently, taken enough to offer me a job. I was stunned, but I took the opportunity, something I had been searching for on that journey.

When mother heard, she was pleased, and agreed with my decision. I went on to work at the camp until it closed, when war broke out in Europe. I served for some time over in Germany, but I returned do to a wound in my left leg. After it healed, as soon as I was back on my feet, I went to college. It was hard to find the money, but I had promised my family, my father, and myself that I would go to college.

Looking back on the hardships of the 1930’s, the biggest hardship for myself, aside from the death of my father and the hard times of the stock market crash, was the hard times of others. I remember hearing of people dying from dust storms, or having to leave their farms to find work. There was misfortune I was faced with, but I had it so good compared to others. I’m so grateful for how lucky I ended up being, and I am honored by how brave others were in the plight of the 30’s.