Have you ever heard of a hobo? It has been a couple generations since they walked the land. It was a different time, the Great Depression, that is. The hobo phenomenon was part of it. They weren't bums. A bum won't work. A hobo took to the roads to find work. Let me tell you what I remember about them.

We lived off the beaten path in a farming community. It would be cause for excitement when an automobile made its way up the hill in front of our place. Days would go by without a car passing. I even remember seeing an occasional horse and buggy. The old folks still used them. It seemed that nobody traveled our road unless they lived nearby. Dad walked the road up to the Carter farm where he did milking and field work. There were no school buses. I walked to school. It was not a place to find a stranger, such as a hobo. We were miles from a train track.

That being said, a hobo did stop at our place once. It was summertime. Mother was out in the backyard washing clothes over a scrub board in our old wash tub. She did that chore outdoors whenever possible because it was such a messy job. This day she looked up to see a man standing there.

Strangers were not frightening in those days. Mother was curious to see what he wanted. “Something to eat,” was his reply. He said he would do whatever needed doing for a meal.

Mother looked over at the woodpile. Blocks of wood needed splitting. Winter and summer our old kitchen range was fired up to cook our food and boil our water. Wood always needed splitting. She would feed him if he would chop some of that wood. He agreed and set to work.

I don't remember what Mother fed him. Probably some fried eggs and fried potatoes with biscuits and coffee left from breakfast. Mother had the knack of putting a meal together when there didn't seem to be enough to do so. We had chickens and a garden back then.

When Dad came home after the evening milking, Mother told him about the visitor. He was furious. What was going through her mind, he shouted. There was only enough for us to eat. How dare she feed a passing stranger.

Men are more practical. Women lead with their hearts. Dad knew how hard it was to provide for his family. Mother saw a hungry person in front of her. Wood needed chopping. There was enough food to spare. As I said, it was a different time. The common belief was that we were all in it together and should help wherever we could. That hungry hobo had a meal.