The third of the month was an exciting time for my siblings and I. We looked forward to it every month. The third of the month was the day that our food stamps were to arrive by mail. It was known that the mail was to come around 10 o’clock every morning. We played outside anxiously waiting for our relief. Our heads would turn toward the railroad tracks as we would hear a car approaching. When the green Scout mail truck would finally come into sight we would run to the mail box hurriedly.
There they lay. The food stamps that were to feed us for a month. The orange envelope was filled with with the paper bills that were to fill our stomachs.
We would run back to the house to give mama the envelope that contained the $302 worth of food stamps. Getting our food stamps also meant that we got to go to town. So we would all bathe outside under the water hose, this was a much more pleasant event during the summer than the winter, and we would put on our best clothes. We would also guess on whether we would go to Winn Dixie or to Piggly Wiggly. Those two stores were our only choice at the time.
Before we would go to town we would always make our 45 minute trip north to Coy, Alabama in Wilcox county. It was there in a small store with wooden floors that my parents were able to trade some of the food stamps for money. For every dollar of food stamps they would give us 50 cents. So my parents would give them $100 of our $302 so they could get $50 in cash. On occasions my parents would buy us one of those delicious Coca-Colas that came in the glass bottle for us to share while we waited quietly for this transaction to take place. When they were filling real generous, we would get one of our own.
After that, they would usually put $10 in the gas tank of whatever clunker we happened to own at the time and then we were off to the liquor store to make the standard purchase of 2 12 packs of Milwaukee’s Best and 2 1/2 gallons of Heaven Hills whiskey with the $50 they had obtained.
Mama was usually the driver, especially when they were taking care of business. The car that we drove was most times illegal in some sort of way whether it be expired licenses plates or no insurance. My daddy thought that the cops were less likely to pull over a female driver than a man.
After the food stamp exchange and the stop at the liquor store, we were finally at our grocery store destination. Most times my parents were “buzzing” by this time because it was an hour drive from Coy to Monroeville where we did our shopping.
We were excited to finally be there. They would buy several loaves of Sunbeam bread, a couple gallons of milk, sugar, flour, tea, 50 pounds of potatoes, several packages of chicken leg quarters, and some 80/20 ground beef. If we behaved in the store and didn’t ask for anything we sometimes got a box of banana moon pies. My favorite.
As the years passed and my parents addictions got stronger, the $50 cash turned into $100 until eventually we had nothing left to buy groceries with. We no longer ran to the mail box because the pain that was to come from drunk parents was dreadful. What was once a happy time was now one filled with pain and sorrow.
I now understand why I love food so much and I have to remind myself that I will be able to eat tomorrow. Even though it has been almost 20 years since I have had to live in those conditions, I still remember what it was like to be truly hungry. It is something I fear almost on a daily basis. I am truly content when my pantry and refrigerators are full. To this day I still love going to the grocery store.
Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.
