It's hard to imagine being as poor as my parents were. Poor people the world over eat beans and rice and survive just fine. My grandad kept a pipe wrench under the wagon seat and would drive closer and closer toward a sitting rabbit. He was good with a rock too they said. Couldn't afford bullets. Sold the Ballard rifle. Pop once sent me some money when Jimmy Carter was in. Said we might have to eat possum. I said, well I do have a .22. After a minute he said, ooh ..... you won't have to eat possum. Gave me hope it did.
My wife's grandad was an illiterate immigrant in Pennsy. He was a shameless poacher. With his Model 12 20 gauge he killed everything from ground hog to deer and told the game warden he should forget the rumors he was hearing, for his own sake.
