Memories of food stamps and getting ahead
There are some memories of childhood that stick with you, others you can barely remember. I stop and wonder sometimes why those that you do think of from time to time stay with you. Maybe they mattered more. Maybe what was happening was an important event that helped shape you.
I can think of the time I was standing at the Safeway checkout lane with mom. The cashier was ringing up the groceries. Potatoes, rice, veggies. Nothing too exciting. We were vegetarians and we were poor. My grandpa once said a little bit of rice goes a long way.
As the checkout lady told her the total, mom pulled out a little booklet filled with paper money of all kinds of colors — purples, yellows, blues, and greens. They were food stamps. She flipped through them and pulled out the appropriate amount to pay the bill.
I didn’t think too much of it other than I knew it was different kind of money. At nine years old, you are too young to understand the welfare system. Mom has always been a private person and she didn’t share information related to our economic well-being.
Until you reach a certain age, you don’t realize that you are poorer than others. The food mom makes you is the food you enjoy. The clothes you wear is the…
