Hunger History; What People Did Before Food Stamps

Image created by GEMINI artificial intelligence… no real people represented here.

I lived in the days before anybody ever heard about Food Stamps or SNAP programs and we were classed as being “Poor” and we got through the hard times alright because my Dad worked, My Grandfather worked and My Mom worked. All their jobs were menial and low paying but somehow we managed to keep the roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our backs and remain fairly healthy.

The food was simple but nutritious and plentiful regardless of hard times.

Now people get all up-tight and out of sorts when the President threatens to withhold funds for the SNAP program and a horde of media go all hysterical and complain about it.

I cannot help but wonder what people would do today about food being short at their homes if there never had been a SNAP program or any other free food giveaways.

We just recently had a long government shut down and millions of people were supposed to starve for lack of their SNAP benefits but it looks like they all came through alright and i am thinking that if the SNAP program and related programs were to just disappear or be taken away altogether, resourceful Americans would find a way to fill the vacuum and help those who need the help.

HERE IS WHAT IT USED TO LOOK LIKE IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS


    Section 1: The “Make Do” Economy (Individual Survival)

    The first line of defense was never the government; it was the household’s ability to scrap, save, and negotiate.

    • The Grocer’s Ledger (Informal Credit):
      • How it worked: In the days before chain supermarkets, most people shopped at small, locally owned grocery stores. If a family was short on cash, they would ask the grocer to “put it on the tab.”
      • The Social Cost: This wasn’t a right; it was a relationship. The grocer acted as a judge of character. If he thought you were a “good” family down on your luck, you ate. If he thought you were a drunkard or lazy, you starved. This created a massive power imbalance where poor families had to be unfailingly polite and subservient to the shopkeeper.
    • Subsistence Farming & Foraging:
      • Even in towns, many families kept chickens or a small garden (often called “thrift gardens” or “relief gardens” during the Depression).
      • Hunting wasn’t a sport; it was a necessity. Rabbit, squirrel, and fish were standard protein sources for rural families when the store meat was too expensive.

    Section 2: Community & Charity (The Private Safety Net)

    When the household failed, the community stepped in. This was a patchwork system that varied wildly depending on where you lived and your race or religion.

    • Mutual Aid Societies:
      • What they were: Marginalized groups (especially Black, Italian, and Jewish immigrant communities) often couldn’t rely on white-run charities. They formed “Mutual Aid Societies”—members paid small monthly dues, and if a member lost their job or got sick, the society paid out funds to buy food.
      • Rent Parties: In Harlem and Chicago, families would host parties with cheap admission and food to raise money to pay the grocer or the landlord.
    • Churches and “The Lady Bountiful”:
      • Churches were the primary food banks. However, aid often came with a sermon or a check on your “moral standing.”
      • Wealthy women’s clubs often distributed baskets of food to the “worthy poor” (widows and orphans), but frequently excluded able-bodied men who couldn’t find work, viewing them as “undeserving.”

    Section 3: The Public Spectacle (Depression-Era Relief)

    During the Great Depression, private charity collapsed under the sheer volume of need. This led to the iconic, visible forms of hunger relief.

    • Soup Kitchens & Breadlines:
      • These were often run by religious missions or even notorious figures (Al Capone ran one of Chicago’s biggest soup kitchens).
      • The Menu: It was almost always soup because water could be added to stretch it infinitely. Bread was stale or day-old donations from bakeries.
      • The Shame: Standing in a breadline was a public admission of failure. Men would often pull their hats down low to avoid being recognized by neighbors.
    • The “Penny Restaurant”:
      • In some cities, local governments set up canteens where a meal could be bought for a penny or a nickel. It wasn’t free, but it was subsidized enough to be accessible to almost anyone with any cash.

    Section 4: The Dreaded “Indoor Relief” (Government Action)

    Before federal programs, welfare was local (county or city level) and was divided into “Outdoor Relief” and “Indoor Relief.”

    • Outdoor Relief (The Handout):
      • A local “Overseer of the Poor” might give a family a scrip (voucher) for a specific amount of coal or flour. It was humiliating and public; your name was often published in the town newspaper as a pauper.
    • The Poor Farm (Indoor Relief):
      • This was the ultimate threat. If you could not feed yourself, the county could force you to move to a “Poor Farm” or “Almshouse.”
      • You would live in a dormitory, work the farm land to pay for your keep, and eat gruel. It was essentially a prison for being poor. Families would starve themselves for weeks rather than go to the Poor Farm.

    Section 5: The Precursor (Surplus Commodities)

    Just before the first food stamps (orange and blue stamps) were introduced in 1939, the government tried Direct Commodity Distribution.

    • The “Cheese Lines”: Instead of giving people money to buy what they needed, the government bought excess farm goods (to help farmers keep prices up) and literally dropped them off at distribution centers.
    • The Problem: A family might get a 5lb block of cheese, a sack of flour, and 10lbs of dried beans. They didn’t get milk, fresh vegetables, or meat. It was a “take what you get” system that ignored nutritional balance or dietary restrictions.

    Snake Day At Mel’s House

    Image above generated by GEMINI artificial intelligence… no living or dead people represented in the image.

    When I was a kid — a young, snotty-nosed asshole of a kid —I did a lot of foolish things and this is the story of one of them:

    Mel and her husband owned a five and dime operation in our small country village when I was about 12 years old and she had a toy department in that place too.

    Mel was one of the town’s best gossips.

    I am telling you that if she heard something at Noon, it would be complete and totally enhanced by the grape vine and would arrive at the other end of town within the space of one telephone call, amplified and enhanced by all the other gossip mongers in town … a matter of minutes. Pony Express has never been as fast as that gossip delivery service.

    But she had a good heart and her son, (Name With Held) was one of my closest play mates.

    This meant that I had unrestricted access to all the best that was Mel …. including the fantastically delicious cookies and candy that she made.

    But Mel had a mouth on her … she could whoop and holler and cuss like a sailor when she got mad– and she got mad at me a lot because i acted like a total asshole most of the time.

    But when times were good, my friend, her son and I would spend leisurely hours laying in front of their television set watching “Superman” or “Dragnet” or stuff like that.

    So one day when I was in a bastardly mood, I decided to put a very realistic-looking rubber toy rattlesnake into a cigar box and took it over to the variety store to tease Mel with it.

    When I arrived at the store where her and her husband and son also had an apartment, she was in her kitchen in the middle of baking cookies.

    When I arrived, her attention was immediately drawn to the closed cigar box which i held suspiciously under one arm.

    “What’s in the box?” She asked.

    “Ahhh, nothin'” I replied.

    She kept wheedling me about what was in the box, growing more incensed with each passing moment that i refused to tell her.

    Finally, red-faced and puffing wrath, she screamed, “What’s in that G*d-d**ned” box?

    Handing the closed box to her gently, I said, “you had better not open it.”

    Those were wasted words.

    She did open the box, stood there for a split second, screamed a shrill ear-piercing scream, throwing the box across the room and calling me the foulest possible names she could think of all the time.

    “You little bastard,” she raged… “If you ever do anything like that again I will kill you!”

    Mel was always going to “Kill” me over something that I did or the other but she never really got around to actually doing it.

    Did I mention that I went home without any cookies that day?

    The Little $10 Card Game That Will Ruin Your Friendships. (In the Best Way Possible)

    The image above generated by GEMINI artificial intelligence … no real people are represented.

    Let’s be honest. Game night can sometimes feel a bit… stale. Another round of Monopoly where someone inevitably quits in a huff, or a drawn-out session of Risk that ends with alliances shattered and friendships tested. If you’re yearning for something fresh, fast-paced, and with just enough backstabbing to make things interesting, I have a recommendation for you. It costs about $10, fits in your pocket, and has a shockingly accurate title: Love Letter.

    Now, before you panic and assume I’m advocating for actual friendship destruction, let me clarify. Love Letter won’t send your pals fleeing into the night, vowing never to speak to you again. Instead, it’s the kind of game that elicits groans of mock betrayal, bursts of laughter, and shouts of “I can’t believe you did that!” It’s all in good fun, but the sheer simplicity and strategic depth packed into a mere 16 cards are enough to make you eye your opponents with newfound suspicion.

    The premise is charmingly simple: you are a suitor (or suitor-adjacent character) trying to get your love letter into the hands of Princess Annette, while simultaneously trying to intercept the letters of your rivals. You do this by eliminating other players from the round. The player holding the highest-ranked card at the end of the round, or the last player standing, wins the Princess’s affection (and a token of favor). Win enough tokens, and you win the game.

    Here’s the kicker: each turn, you only ever have two cards in your hand. You play one, and you resolve its effect. That’s it. Sounds basic, right? This is where the magic (and the friendly backstabbing) happens. Each of the eight unique card types has a different power. The Guard (value 1) lets you guess another player’s hand. Get it right, and they’re out! The Priest (value 2) lets you secretly look at someone’s hand. The Baron (value 3) allows you to compare hands with another player, and the one with the lower card is eliminated. The Handmaid (value 4) grants you temporary immunity. The Prince (value 5) makes any player (including yourself) discard their hand and draw a new one – excellent for messing with a seemingly strong opponent. The King (value 6) lets you swap hands with another player. The Countess (value 7) has a special condition (if you have the King or Prince, you must discard her). And finally, the Princess (value 8) – if you discard her, you’re out of the round immediately.

    The brilliance of Love Letter lies in its deductions, bluffs, and calculated risks. With so few cards in play, you’re constantly trying to figure out what everyone else is holding, who’s vulnerable, and when to strike. Did Sarah just play a Priest and then target you? She knows something! Is Mark holding onto a high card, or is he bluffing with a low one? The tension builds with every card played, and the rounds are so quick that even if you’re eliminated early, you’re not waiting long to jump back into the fray.

    For about ten bucks, you get a game that’s easy to learn in minutes but offers endless replay-ability and laugh-out-loud moments. It’s perfect for travel, for a quick filler between longer games, or for an entire evening of strategic, friendly rivalry. So go ahead, pick up a copy of Love Letter. Just be prepared for your friends to accuse you of being a ruthless, conniving genius. And maybe, just maybe, for a few playful vows of vengeance. It’ll be the best $10 you ever spent on game night.

    What To Do, What To Do!

    It is kind of difficult to try to keep a blog going right now……but I am trying….It’s just that nothing is really happening with me except I am trying to recover from a horrible illness……so I apologize if I become less than dependable……I will try to get on with something for my readers….. I am trying to figure out what to write about right now…..perhaps you all could tell me what you would like to hear from me besides health updates…… that would be of great assistance to me and would be sincerely appreciated.

    FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO THINK THAT I AM NOT AN AUTHENTIC POLITICAL PROPHET:

    I WROTE THE FOLLOWING IN 2012

    The Dead Heat That Should Never Be!

    May 10, 2012 2 Comments

    I cannot believe that after what Americans were forced to suffer under the last Conservative Administration, they might consider actually choosing a repeat performance.

    The National Memory must either be very short or someone is practicing “Head-In-The-Sand” selective amnesia or Rightie propaganda is paying off for the 1% and those who would take America back to the Political Dark Ages again.

    I read one report that said that Americans are divided over the economic policies of President Obama and that the split is something like 40 percent for and 39 percent against with 19 percent undecided or something like that.

    Here is what I will predict and I hope that everyone who reads this blog will hit the “Save” or the “Print” button on this one and keep it around for future reference.

    I predict that if America puts another Conservative Administration into the White House and that if America does not wrest control of The House of Representatives back to the Democrats, America hasn’t seen anything yet about what deprivation and suffering can actually mean.

    The plans for America that I have been hearing on the evening News and everywhere I look and listen are, in my opinion, absolutely Draconian.

    This “Austerity” crap just got kicked in the teeth by The People of France and by a lot of others in Europe and it is no difficulty to imagine that if America gets a real and significant taste of Conservatist Austerity, there will be exponential buyer’s remorse in no time at all.

    In fact, I believe that if this tragedy were to happen, there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth in every corner of our blessed Republic.

    I believe that within a year of a Conservative take over of our government there will be such a hornet’s nest of buyer’s remorse stirred up that it will be both incomprehensible and indescribable.

    I think the middle and lower-income classes will be absolutely decimated and devastated by all the planned “Take Aways” and I think the possibility of a dark depression sweeping like a tidal wave of despair over this land is a distinct possibility–like nothing we have ever seen before.

    The Political Lemmings simply have got to get their heads out of the sand and take a close look at what is happening right under their noses and spread the word that Radical Rightie is on the march again and could well have the most adverse impact on this Nation in all Her long and glorious History.

    The time to worry about how Conservatism plans to take our Democratic Republic down is not after people have gone out and voted their anger and frustration.

    The time to think about how to keep America on the upswing that She has begun to experience in the last 25 months or so is now…before the elections…and at the voting booths.

    I am convinced that within a few months of a Conservative sweep in November, 2012, America will be in a deeper hole than ever with far less prospects of recovery than ever and I simply cannot believe that People would allow that to happen to themselves and their heirs.

    Please, America…do not make me say “I told you so” sometime around this time next year.

    For God’s sake, America…wake up! Check out the information by clicking between the following parenthesis: ( Dead Heat )

    See what refusing to tax the rich can cause by clicking between the parenthesis: ( France Reject )

    Don’t leave without reading this: ( Again? )

    Posted by John Liming (Political Opinion)

      Saturday Again

      This image is AI-generated and does not portray any real people.

      (December 1, 2025) —- I bought myself a slow cooker today— from Amazon —- It will be here Wednesday and I am on anticipatory pins and needles.

      I will now be able to turn beef pieces into a lovely gelatinous softness —- great for my recovering gut —-and perhaps a lot of other interesting and delicious things as well. I like the fact that it has an automatic timer and shut off feature… set and forget…

      I have been working to increase my daily protein intake… I fear I have been somewhat protein deficient for the last Six weeks…but I can do 90 to 110 grams each day now that I have charted it all out…..Once I am fully recovered, I can up the ante on the protein to 142 grams per day…..the 90-110 grams is the safe low limit for my body weight and for recovery purposes.

      Learning to love Greek Style yogurt, Tempeh and Kefir. (Not.) Cottage cheese is a non starter for me —- can’t stand it —but fish and chicken and pork and beef—- well that is another story….. love them all when i can reduce the collagen content to a lovely managable mush….. well almost anyway ….very masticatable …..I have stopped the awful downward body weight slide and have stabilized at 218 pounds without clothing ……I always find it interesting that when I visit a doctor office, they always chart my weight complete with clothing…..an extra 4 or 5 pounds that I did not come into this world with …..strange things that doctors do sometimes.

      Right now it is 8:30 PM where my friend, Jim, and I live… and having finished washing the dinner dishes, I am here on the computer and Jim is parked in his recliner in our cavernous living room, in a reclining chair that virtually swallows him, with a throw blanket pulled up to his nose — he is somewhat cold blooded —- and, of course, to save a few bucks (dollars), we keep our thermostat at 67 degrees ……keeps the pipes from freezing in the manse and gives us an excuse to wear sweaters and jackets in the house…..As for me, I recently purchased a large blanket with 100% wool fleece on one side….warm as toast —- but I need a sheet between me and the fleece……It can be a bit itchy.

      I would be commenting on the national events except for the fact that all of it is so damned crazy and disjointed and sometimes, in my opinion, even somewhat demented ….so why bother stirring a pot of excreta …..only causes malodorous conditions in the psyche.

      Memories Of School Daze

      Some time during my Fifth year of life, my parents began “Preparing” me to start school. School was a mysterious place to me. It was far, far away and was described to me as a place where wonderful things were happening and from which there was no apparent escape.

      I look back now and am confounded because if you look at it properly, I was undergoing my first parental brainwashing session. I guess all parents do that. I did it with my own kids.

      I was torn between the emotions of wonder and dread at the prospect of getting a good start at this new thing everyone was calling, “School.” I somehow sensed, deep inside, that it would mean the loss of my endless freedom and would begin the long process of learning something my Grandfather referred to as “Responsibility.” By the time the inevitable confrontation rolled around, I guess I was more or less properly conditioned to accept the idea of “The First Grade.”

      I got the point where, even though I had no earthly idea of what I was saying, I would loudly declare to any adult who would show me the slightest bit of attention, “I’m going to school next year.”

      There were a lot of side wise glances and some approving looks and a few pats on the head by old ladies. Those attentions and the smiles that accompanied them made the concept ever so much more pleasant for me. There was a lot of encouragement and moral support from the adult crowd.

      It was especially nice when some kindly lady would chuck me under the chin and declare, “Oh, you will do well…you are a smart kid.”

      Being “Smart” seemed to be some kind of prerequisite for successful launch at school so I began to search for ways to become…”Smarter.”

      Enter my accommodating Father who had completed Third Grade at a local one room school back in 1913.

      It seemed that my Dad knew everything about everything and would “make Up” facts when the real facts were unclear to him. He began the process of preparing me for First Grade with a kind of “Home Schooling” of his own design and invention. His stated goal was to “Git me smarter in what was necessary in life—Readin, Writin’ and Cipherin.” (Arithmetic). To my Dad, these were the only necessary requirements for acceptable and complete education.

      So, my days underwent some changes.

      After supper, instead of romping with my dog and my pet pig, I was obliged to sit with Dad at the dinner table and learn to do Arithmetic….on my fingers!

      As to the art of Multiplication: We never ventured beyond the Twelfth Table (12×12=) and Long Division wasn’t even in the educational loop for my Dad.

      Dad would take a long draw on his ever-present filter-less cigarette and exclaim, with great satisfaction, “Now One plus One equals Two.”

      When I paralyzed at that revelation, he placed two vertical hash marks on a piece of paper and demonstrated how 1 + 1 equaled 2.

      All this advanced education took place after I had demonstrated my ability to count to Ten on my fingers. I often wondered why toes did not enter into the process. It dawned on me that it was probably impractical to stop and remove one’s shoes whenever it became necessary to count or to add or subtract.

      After a few weeks of this intensive struggle, I got pretty proficient at adding columns of single digit numbers, but the need to “Carry” across to another column of figures was absolutely foreign to me.

      Dad’s preoccupation with Addition and Subtraction was simplified for me by his explanation, “If you learn to add and to subtract, you can always tell if your paycheck is short.” (Or if there were actually a dozen oranges in the grocery bag.).

      My confusion about Math deepened on the day that my Dad explained to me how One rabbit plus One rabbit ends up being Three rabbits.

      So, my first days of school were not uptown at the giant red brick structure with the school buses out front and the play equipment in the side lot.

      My first day of school was at home with my Dad, my dog and my pet Pig with Mom hovering in the background mumbling some indistinct phrases from time to time to which my Dad would impatiently respond, “Now hush up, Old Woman, the kid has got to learn something so he won’t be lost when he gits to school.”

      I always appreciated Dad’s willingness to help me launch successfully but, as it turned out, he was behind the times somewhat and finger-counting no longer would cut it with the teachers.

      I had to re-learn everything.

      One thing I learned very early on was just how much a teacher loved to get a fresh red apple each morning from some student—like me. (There was an orchard next door, after all.)

      But all that is another story for another time.