STORIES MY DAD TOLD ME

My dad was nine years old when the Great Depression hit the country. One of the things he did during that period made a great impression on me.


In the Winter, he would walk down from Mount Adams to the Ohio River and pick up broken wooden pallets that were discarded there from ships and barges that had been unloaded. He would drag the wood back up the hill and sell it to people for use in their furnaces or fire places. He would get a nickle a load if he was lucky.