A potpourri of religious fanaticism, sun blotting dust clouds and a crippling depression served to make me investigate the question: How did I make my way through this without jail, violence or a mental hospital? Because of the brutality, I had to learn the meaning of forgiveness. Because of the dust, I learned to enjoy nature and its beauty. I learned to appreciate the toughness of those surviving the rigors of the Big Depression. Living with a very taciturn father and mother left me with many questions. The rewards coming from my tears, the love and caring of friends, both lay and professional, brought me to a point of reconciliation with myself, despite a family that was torn asunder. Other rewards included the many stories that came from those zany dust years, writing passionate essays about the penchant for wars and finally, the development of a feeling of compassion for those who suffer. The words: All happy families are the same. Unhappy ones differ in their own way. However, no one needs to live in thrall to an unhappy childhood. | Dust Drugs and the Depression by Hugh Page, Paperback | Indigo Chapters