The depression and the dust bowl are here. The only things my family has is this journal, an old quilt, and three dollars. We are riding on the top of a cattle car, and have been for two months.
Dad died yesterday of starvation. We only had two pieces of bread. He was a gentleman and let me have a whole piece. We went to visit our old house site and we found my old doll in the dust storm, under a boulder. Well, it's my mom's turn to write now.
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