The old model T Ford truck bounced along the rutted road on the way to the town dump. The rain had made a muddy mess of the road, but the tall thin tires of the old Ford dug down through the mud and kept the pick-up moving. It was the seventh year of the great depression, and the driver was hauling a load of junk from a basement out to the town dump for a little cash. Times were hard and dollars even harder to come by, so a man had to hustle to put any groceries on the table.
The driver of the old truck was a man named Hank Robertson, a rancher who had no more ranch. First the crash of '29 drove the beef prices down, then the price of feed was more than he could afford. Having to sell his cows for less than market value, things spun down out of control untill that day the man from the bank, and a sheriff's deputy told him he had to leave. Now he and his wife lived in a run down clapboard house on the edge of town. A little hauling, some house painting, some ditch digging all helped get them by. His wife, Katie, did some sewing, washing, and sold the pies and cakes she baked. They, like alot of Americans in 1936, were just getting by week to week.
He dropped the junk at the dump and was heading home when a loud pop told him he had another flat. Pulling over to the side of the road, he jacked up the truck and took off the tire. He'd have to patch the tube again, as there was no good spare. He broke out his took kit and got the tire irons out. Finding the hole in the tube was the easy part. He took out his worn old pocket knife and scraped the rubber to get it ready for the patch. Both blades of his old knife were worn down to toothpicks, with the only difference being the main blade was a bigger toothpick than what once had been a pen blade. But he got the rubber scraped clean and then cut a patch from some rubber material. Spreading the glue on good with the knife blade he placed the patch and then pressed his tool box down on it to set. Leaving the tool box sitting on the drying patch, he took out his pipe and loaded a half a bowl of tobacco in it. No full pipes these days, tobacco cost extra money, so he rationed it out.
Much later back in town he stopped by the general store, and browsed among the shelves. He didn't have much money in his pocket, but it was Valentine's day and he wanted something for Katie. He saw an elegent tortise shell comb with a silver heart inlaid into the shell, but couldn't see the price tag the way it was laying in the case.
"Can I help you, Hank?" asked a grey haired lady. She was the owner of the store and had known Hank and Katie for years.
"Oh, just lookin for a Valentine day gift for Katie. How much is that comb?"
The lady looked at the comb, and then exclaimed, "Oh silly me, I forgot to mark that down." She then took a pencil from her apron pocket and crossed out the price and marked it with one almost half.
"That old thing has been sitting in here too long, that heart's not real silver, you know." she told Hank.
Hank knew she was lying, but couldn't bring himself to call her on it. He dug some coins out of his pocket and paid for the comb. The store owner wrapped it up in lavender tissue paper. "Katie's partial to lavender if I recall right." was all she said.
Hank was moved by her generosity, and thanked her in a horse voice, and as he walked to the door, the lady came around the counter and hugged him.
"It will get better, you'll see!" she told him.
"It better, can't get much worse." was all Hank could say.
Later that evening Katie served dinner, and Hank wondered how she had done it on so few pennies. They had been down to a bit of ham butt and a few potatos, and somehow katie had made scalloped potatos with ham in a creamy sause. Hank cleaned his plate. With the table cleared and he and Katie sitting with a cup of coffee, he reached in the pocket of his overalls. Laying the lavender tissue wrapped package in front of her he said "Happy Valentines day."
Katie unwrapped the comb and stared dumbfounded. She had not expected anything, as hard as times had been. She hugged her husband, almost speachless. She had admired that comb and thought if she had the money she'd buy it in a heartbeat. The heart inlaid in the tortise shell was real silver, she knew. She blinked back the tears and told Hank that she had a little something for him too.
Going to the kitchen drawer, she took out a tissue wrapped item and laid it on the table in front of her husband. Hank picked it, up surprised at the gift. Slowly he peeled back the tissue, and stared amazed at the new barlow knife in his callused palm.
"By God, it's a real Russells." he said softly, "How did you manage this? You shouldn't have."
"Oh, a few extra pies, some extra sewing. Mr. Carson down at the post office lost some weight and needed all his suits taken in." she told him. "A little here, a little there. That old knife of yours is plain wore out."
And there in a little run down house in the middle of some very dark times, there was a bit of joy from a few simple items. Small gifts by todays standards, but when you have very little, sometimes a little can be alot.
The driver of the old truck was a man named Hank Robertson, a rancher who had no more ranch. First the crash of '29 drove the beef prices down, then the price of feed was more than he could afford. Having to sell his cows for less than market value, things spun down out of control untill that day the man from the bank, and a sheriff's deputy told him he had to leave. Now he and his wife lived in a run down clapboard house on the edge of town. A little hauling, some house painting, some ditch digging all helped get them by. His wife, Katie, did some sewing, washing, and sold the pies and cakes she baked. They, like alot of Americans in 1936, were just getting by week to week.
He dropped the junk at the dump and was heading home when a loud pop told him he had another flat. Pulling over to the side of the road, he jacked up the truck and took off the tire. He'd have to patch the tube again, as there was no good spare. He broke out his took kit and got the tire irons out. Finding the hole in the tube was the easy part. He took out his worn old pocket knife and scraped the rubber to get it ready for the patch. Both blades of his old knife were worn down to toothpicks, with the only difference being the main blade was a bigger toothpick than what once had been a pen blade. But he got the rubber scraped clean and then cut a patch from some rubber material. Spreading the glue on good with the knife blade he placed the patch and then pressed his tool box down on it to set. Leaving the tool box sitting on the drying patch, he took out his pipe and loaded a half a bowl of tobacco in it. No full pipes these days, tobacco cost extra money, so he rationed it out.
Much later back in town he stopped by the general store, and browsed among the shelves. He didn't have much money in his pocket, but it was Valentine's day and he wanted something for Katie. He saw an elegent tortise shell comb with a silver heart inlaid into the shell, but couldn't see the price tag the way it was laying in the case.
"Can I help you, Hank?" asked a grey haired lady. She was the owner of the store and had known Hank and Katie for years.
"Oh, just lookin for a Valentine day gift for Katie. How much is that comb?"
The lady looked at the comb, and then exclaimed, "Oh silly me, I forgot to mark that down." She then took a pencil from her apron pocket and crossed out the price and marked it with one almost half.
"That old thing has been sitting in here too long, that heart's not real silver, you know." she told Hank.
Hank knew she was lying, but couldn't bring himself to call her on it. He dug some coins out of his pocket and paid for the comb. The store owner wrapped it up in lavender tissue paper. "Katie's partial to lavender if I recall right." was all she said.
Hank was moved by her generosity, and thanked her in a horse voice, and as he walked to the door, the lady came around the counter and hugged him.
"It will get better, you'll see!" she told him.
"It better, can't get much worse." was all Hank could say.
Later that evening Katie served dinner, and Hank wondered how she had done it on so few pennies. They had been down to a bit of ham butt and a few potatos, and somehow katie had made scalloped potatos with ham in a creamy sause. Hank cleaned his plate. With the table cleared and he and Katie sitting with a cup of coffee, he reached in the pocket of his overalls. Laying the lavender tissue wrapped package in front of her he said "Happy Valentines day."
Katie unwrapped the comb and stared dumbfounded. She had not expected anything, as hard as times had been. She hugged her husband, almost speachless. She had admired that comb and thought if she had the money she'd buy it in a heartbeat. The heart inlaid in the tortise shell was real silver, she knew. She blinked back the tears and told Hank that she had a little something for him too.
Going to the kitchen drawer, she took out a tissue wrapped item and laid it on the table in front of her husband. Hank picked it, up surprised at the gift. Slowly he peeled back the tissue, and stared amazed at the new barlow knife in his callused palm.
"By God, it's a real Russells." he said softly, "How did you manage this? You shouldn't have."
"Oh, a few extra pies, some extra sewing. Mr. Carson down at the post office lost some weight and needed all his suits taken in." she told him. "A little here, a little there. That old knife of yours is plain wore out."
And there in a little run down house in the middle of some very dark times, there was a bit of joy from a few simple items. Small gifts by todays standards, but when you have very little, sometimes a little can be alot.
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