Holes in Our Shoes

by Patricia A. Forseth

In the thirties we lived close to Mother earth. She gave us food, water, and wood. Of course we helped with hoe, pump handle, and axe. We drove Model T’s, baked our bread, and put cardboard in our shoes. But we’re not complaining here. Truth is, we were warm and cozy, had good things to eat, and lots of fun. We ate more than our share of beans, of course. We even talked beans. A lively person was full of beans, a dumb one didn’t know beans, and lazy ones didn’t amount to a hill of beans. Busy ones, like us, were busy as bean agents. If you don’t know what a bean agent is, you’ll find out on the first page. Any message you might find in the book is unintentional, but I have noticed that hard times generate creativity. We simply outwitted the Great Depression. At the sewing machine, in the kitchen and the back yard, creations were in the making. For kids, cardboard boxes and a crayon were all it took to create a village. Any wisdom you find here will have a bit of bite to it. What you have here are three old ladies, sick of TV, having fun. We’re remembering, and laughing about it. Patricia’s daughter, who is hard to please, said some of the stories split her sides. Older folks say, "I identified with every page." Others say, "I couldn’t put it down." A 90-year-old said, "I couldn't put it down. I read until I couldn’t see. I can relate to it. We used catalogs for toilet paper. We made our own dollhouses and had stick dolls with cornsilk for hair and oak galls for cattle. We dressed the cats and dogs and even the little calves." My friend’s daughter, age 25, read it through in one sitting, then turned back to page one and started over. Best of all, they are coming back to buy more to give to friends. Is that a compliment, or what?

143 pages, Paperback

First published November 15, 2001