A Moment of Reflection

by

Anna McDonald

---

As you open this bottle
in the year 2039
you will find within
a story that's been told
in history books now old

The Great Depression
from 1929 to 1939
is a tale of economic woe
touching all humanity
touching all the institutions of mankind

But
its real tale lies
in the stories of individuals
who searched for work
who searched for the means
to feed and sustain themselves and their significant others.

To give you a glimpse of the economic state
here is a comparison of prices, then and now:
1932 prices — BREAD, homemade - tasting Bryce's bread 5 cents a 1 lb. loaf
JAM - whole strawberry, 25 cents a 2 lb. pail
These prices reflect Eaton's grocery sale items.
We walked one mile there and one mile back,
Anything to save a dime.
EGGS - fresh. My mother sold them for 15 cents a dozen.
1999 prices — BREAD - one dollar a l lb. loaf
JAM - strawberry: $2.25 a l lb. jar
EGGS - $1.50 a dozen

My mother raised chickens those years
to supplement our daily fare.
But
When a sick child needed
"one fresh egg a day"
to help restore her to health
We responded.
Every day for two weeks
that "one fresh egg"
I faithfully carried
ten blocks away
at one cent an egg

But when you didn't have a nickel to your name
you still couldn't buy a loaf of bread or a jar of jam.

This is my story,
I, who in the year 1935,
graduated at the top of her class

An individual who was eager to learn more
eager to succeed in all aspects of her life
But
graduated into a world milieu of unemployment.

Try to imagine yourself
day after day
tramping the streets of Winnipeg,
Down King Street, up Princess,
Down Notre Dame, up Arthur Street,
Bannatyne and McDermott.
At every inquiry

"Any opening for employment today?"
came the ever-unending reply,
"Not hiring today."
And at the end of that day
to face a parent's unbelief and disappointment,
"No job for her daughter today."

Those were days of
No unemployment offices to aid in your search.
No welfare aid without degrading interview upon interview.
Compassion from those who owned the Exchange District was a big NIL.

I cringe when "heritage" groups
today extol the virtues of their Exchange buildings.
Those who owned them were as cold and unresponsive
as the buildings themselves.

As I pass these buildings fifty-five years later,
I hurt in my soul
because in my mind's eye
I still see the dim-lit hallways
echoing the refrain,
"Not hiring today."

Save these buildings? Why?
To tell the glory of their architectural façade?
To tell of their financial wizardry
or to tell of the humiliation and hurt of the seeking poor?

Winnipeg started out of that economic slump
when 1939 brought war to the world.
Now there was money without end
to make army wear
shirts and pants to clothe our young,
money to make weapons of destruction.
All for what?
To send out our best to be slaughtered in war?
Where was the money and help those ten years before?

What a waste of lives!
Has the world learned its lesson?

In 2039, when you read this message,
I pray the answer is yes.