The Real Meaning of Christmas

"Ma ladled stew into the tin plates, very little stew, and she laid the plates on the ground, "I can't send 'em away," she said. "I don't know what to do. Take your plates an' go inside, I'll let 'em have what is lef.' Here, take a plate into to Rosasharn." She smiled up at the children. "Look," she said, "you little fellas go an' get you each a flat stick an' I'll put what's lef' for you. But they ain't to be no fightin'." The group broke up with deadly, silent swiftness. Children ran to find sticks, they ran to their own tents and brought spoons. Before Ma had finished with the plates they were back, silent and wolfish. Ma shook her head. "I dunno what to do. I can't rob the fambly. I got to feed the fambly. Ruthie, Winfiel', Al," she cried fiercely. "Take your plates. Hurry up. Git in the tent quick." She looked apologetically at the waiting children. "There ain't enough," she said humbly. I'm a-gonna set this here kettle out, an' you'll all get a little tas', but it ain't gonna do you no good." She faltered, "I can't h'p it. Can't keep it from you." She lifted the pot and set it down on the ground. "Now wait. It's too hot," she said, and went into the tent quickly so she would not see."
---from GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck.



Today's blog entry is dedicated to the people of Darfur---and the poor and hungry everywhere, where ever they maybe--may we remember them all during this holiday season.