Burying the Hatchet
HAVING grown up in the depression, I share certain poignant experiences with many who were young in that American decade. Not the least of these was the troubling idea that would bother many adolescents of a literary frame of mind, as I was then: what would I do with myself, if even those who really knew how to work could not get jobs? Even now, when I have university tenure, I recall the haunting anxieties of this phase of life. The problem was: Was I already obsolete? Was I doomed to poverty? Would I be one of the great unemployed? How was I to pay my way through life?
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