This is Birdie and Andy Veach, my grandparents who reared me from infancy. Viewing this photo I am reminded of Willie Nelson's song lyrics "through teardrops and laughter we go through this life hand in hand". Sadly, they probably experienced more teardrops than laughter. Both were born, grew up, and lived much of their lives in the grasp of smothering poverty.

This picture seems to typify how they lived: grim-faced, resolute, staring down the next challenge life would present. They worked hard to survive. My grandmother had a part time job at a small chicken processing plant. She was paid 75 cents hourly. Andy struggled with a dairy farm in the mornings and evenings, and took odd jobs during the day. A skilled carpenter, he built his home and those of many of his neighbors. He was a gruff man, reluctant to show affection. Short in stature, he was deceptively strong. I remember a story of how he once was kicked by one of his cows and in a fit of anger, knocked the cow to the ground with his fist.