During the waning years of the Great Depression in a small south-eastern Kansas community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller’s roadside stand for farm fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively.

One particular day, Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn’t help overhearing the….

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