Shadows of Poverty


“It’s ironic that those who till the soil, cultivate and harvest the fruits, vegetables, and other foods that fill our tables with abundance have nothing left for themselves.” -Cesar Chavez

I took this one from Sullivan, the quiet road that leads to my parent’s home where I grew up. I loved running through the orchards in bloom as a kid pretending I was a creature of the trees. In later years I learned of the hardships my mom and her family suffered as workers of this scenic landscape. Not quite the fairytale backdrop I envisioned as a little sprite flitting from tree to tree. But still it was a better life than how it would have panned out had they stayed put in the shadows of poverty on the other side of the border.

28 thoughts on “Shadows of Poverty

      1. Hey now, I’ve never heard this cowboy carry on about a box of chocolates before. Life is like a bottle of whisky and a pack of smokes is more like it I gather.


    1. Thank you Lance! You know, I do remember that story you shared. It came to me as I was putting this post together. What a moment that must have been! You had some fun down there in San Diego. I’ll bet they miss you.


      1. Hahaha!
        Seriously doubt San Diego, or That Great State of California for that matter, miss me! 😉

        Yes, it was a great moment. He was really inspiring to listen to and it was my honor to shake his hand.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Your parents gave you something great with their sweat off their brow and the bow of their backs, Sandra, working that stretch of land. Thanks for showing us that field and remembering that toil.

    I don’t have any Lancentrics to add about Cesar or Forrest. Or Kerbeyisms on Loggins, Messina, Pinot or Grigio …


  2. The innocence you knew as a child of your parents’ hardships are ones that many endure who work on the orange groves in Florida where we live. That really saddens me because it’s not an easy job.

    During my teen years, my folks owned 66 acres. We only farmed a half-acre for ourselves. My Dad worked as an electronics engineer in Syracuse, NY., about 30 miles from our home. I know we were the lucky ones. Some had to get a full time job in a factory or elsewhere just so they could make ends meet on their farms. Those who owned big dairy farms had to work hard – period.


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