One cold night, my family and I were at the dinner table anxious for our last meal of the day. The much-anticipated supper turned out to be porridge – plain, in every sense of the word, porridge. We did not even have milk to ease the pottage’s way into our hungry bodies. We were hungry though, and any food was sustenance. It was a difficult period of time for my family – not because we were having oats (oats was a breakfast staple), but because it was all we had.
Being too young to understand the circumstances of our meager dinner, I asked my mother why I couldn’t have fried chicken instead, and Continue reading