Dust Bowl

It's 11pm and I have yet to post today. I have started several, but don't feel quite right about finishing them.

So, I thought I'd keep it simple, and post one photo. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, oui?

I think this one says at least half that. It is of my great-grandparents during the Dust Bowl in Oklahoma.

When I want to say something to her about leaving a $1 tip when we go out to dinner (aka, lunch), all I have to think about is this photo of my grandma as a child, sitting on the fender, shoeless, with her doll.

I know I will never understand what it was like, to grow up as she did. Her parents divorced not long after this was taken, which wasn't usual for back then. She became a school teacher, met my grandfather, and went through 2 wars, several moves, and many other hardships. When my grandparents were well into their 40's they finally became successful farmers and only then were they able to gain some peace, until my grandfather died of ALS in the 80's.

So now my grandmother could actually live comfortably after all these years, but she doesn't. She sold her cozy, newer house in town and lives on the 100+ year old family farm now. She works out in the heat in her garden and in her yard. She goes to church every Sunday. She will sit in the dark with a fan on her most of the summer, with only one light so she can do her crossword puzzle. She refuses to turn on the A/C no matter how hot it gets. She has so much land that I don't even know where it all is, and yet she refuses herself even simple comforts.

So when Grandma leaves that $1 tip, I tell her that I have to go to the restroom, swing by the table and up it to 20%. It's probably not the most honest thing to do, but given the circumstances, it's the kindest.