I live in the area that was hardest hit by the Dust Bowl in the 1930s. Hundreds of families watched as everything they had worked for was ruined by the wrath of mother nature. I cannot imagine the fear one would feel if they looked outside to see this:
I have met people who actually survived the "dirty thirties." Their stories are amazing, a real testament to the courage and tenacity that Americans show during harsh times.
Last week, at work, me and Clay stumbled across the remains of an old, abandoned house.
The walls had fallen in, but the foundation remained as proof that a family had once made the place a home. We explored a bit, in awe of the things we found littering the ground around the skeleton of a house.
There was an old Ford, tarnished by rust and surrounded by old tumble weeds. Dust would often leave a engine useless, clogged with dirt and grime.
I thought back to how proud that farmer must have been when he first bought the vehicle and how it must have made him feel to leave it when times got hard. It must have been heartbreaking for him to watch everything he had worked to build fall apart under the hot sun.
There was also a collection of old, glass bottles. Many were intact- dirty, but not broken. They were all shapes and sizes. There were clean bottles, green bottles, and even some yellow bottles.
Looking at the bottles, I suddenly thought- "This is how those people were: dirty, but not broken, strong and substantial."
I only hope that I would be as brave and strong as the Dust Bowlers were if I ever encounter such a harsh situation.