When I was reading the paper this morning, I noticed that
this is the 75th anniversary of the publication of THE
GRAPES OF WRATH. I did not realize that this book suffered
so much book burning and so much ire in Oklahoma, Kansas,
Arkansas and California. I do remember sneaking around to
read it and another book, God's Little Acre. My aunt did
not believe in censorship and she let my cousin and I read
them at her house.

When it was burned in Kansas it was said that no decent woman
or wife or mother should read it. When I was seven, we made
that trek and the money ran out in Arizona. My mother and
father picked cotton until we got enough money for the trip
home. I had to stay out of school and tend my two year old
sister and I remember being forbidden to go outside. I also
remember wanting to go listen to the music that the Mexican
workers played every night. The sounds of the guitar and
the singing were so enticing and so in contrast to the
grimness in our household.

Thinking back on that dreadful time, the naked truth is
hard to deal with and the gritty despair so many people
suffered during the depression is upsetting. The book had
a story to tell and told it with truth and compassion.
Sometimes honesty hurts.

I wouldn't wish adversity on anyone but it sure toughens
you up. I am glad John Steinbeck wrote the book because
it is a little bit of history.