The Great Depression: Kindness Repaid 40 Years Later

In the early 1970s declining health required my Grandparents to move into a nursing home. My Grandfather was feeble—the result of battling the then incurable and excruciatingly painful disease of Shingles. Even now I wince recalling the plaintive screams of horrific pain that defied relief. His bride of 60 years was slipping into the deep abyss of Alzheimer’s—her stoicism and faith coming to the fore.

 

Shortly after their move, my Dad and I went for a visit. It was traumatic for him, but his love and sense of duty called him to put aside the pain it clearly caused him. Being their demonstrated their success in raising a kind, thoughtful son. There is nothing so heartbreaking as watching those you love suffer and being powerless to help, except to love them even more.

 

As we chatted, an aide was quietly cleaning their room. She too was an older lady who was courteous not to intrude on our intensely personal and poignant visit. As she finished, my Dad clearly needed a break to gather himself. He’d been trying to tell his parents that they couldn’t go home again. He was struggling to give them hope that life as they knew it wasn’t over.

 

When the lady had finished, she turned to my Dad and told him a story.

 

“You don’t know me, but I know your parents. During the Depression my husband was out of work. We had a little baby and we’d just lost our home. We were living in a barn on a farm north of town. One day my husband went into the Goffe Hardware Company to ask for a job. He explained our situation and said he’d be willing to anything—even if it was just sweeping the floors. He’d even be willing to work for nothing more than a little food.”

 

“Your Dad hired him to work part time. My husband said it was pretty clear that there wasn’t much for him to do except some ‘busy work’ and that they didn’t really need him. But when my husband most needed to get back his pride and the ability to care for his family, your Dad gave that to him. We eventually moved up and had a pretty good life before he died. But what your Dad did for him was never forgotten and was a lesson he often shared with our children.”

 

“I can see your family is going through a tough time right now. But we’ve always wanted to pay back the gift he gave us.”

 

“I’m honored to care for your parents and am blessed God gave me the chance to repay their kindness.” They hugged, and with that she went on to the next room to continue her work.

 

My Dad had never heard the story while he was growing up, but it didn’t surprise him, because that was the kind of man his father was. He’d do things for people and didn’t feel it proper to share stories like that about himself.  Years later, my father wrote about his memories growing up and about his parents. About his father, he concluded his description with the highest compliment he could think of. “He was a fine Christian gentleman. We need more like him.”

 

We do.