In the late 1930s and early 1940s, my parents lived just a few hundred yards from the MN&A Railroad. My grandfather and great uncle were part of the railroad industry, in that they helped lay the tracks.
When I was 5 or 6 years old, I remember my mother feeding the hobos who came up the hill to our house. There was a trestle below our house where they camped. I remember some were dirty and scary-looking, but Mom never turned one away without a meal. We were poor, though I didn't know it at the time. My mother used to say, "God will provide," and He did.
Today the railroad is gone and my old hometown doesn't look the same. My son says, "Mom, that's progress." I don't think I like progress. At least not as well as I liked the old days.
Heber Springs, Ark.
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.