By Joesph D. Colby
It was called the roaring twenties. Bars were known as speakeasies. Radio sped to the inquisitive ear news of the world. Ford sold over a million Model-Ts, and a hardworking man could feed a family of six on ten dollars a day – with a nickel left over.
The year was 1926 – a time that a boy of thirteen – with his three siblings, his mother, and father – would take a yearlong travel from California to America’s heartland, Missouri.
This is but one leg of the story. You’ll experience the challenges endured by our thirteen-year-old-long before there were freeways, air conditioning, and even in places paved roads. When you’re a poor, migrant, farm-working family, you may hope for a change or better conditions, but it’s probably not coming. To complain about it only makes it worse.
The days turn into weeks for the family as they move firsthand through the elements of their travel. Rain, heat, dust, cold, rain, sunny days, starlit nights, rain – and, oh, let it be known, there was rain. All between each flat tire or breakdown of the car. A boy’s character was built and rebuilt each new day.