It’s the tenth day. About half the children are near death; so hungry, they chew on their lower lips and sometimes hands.

It’s the tenth day. Two of the children have ran off in the fields to go find and pick berries from a bush, and haven’t returned.

It’s the tenth day. Josephina, one of the youngest, is homesick and is hiding in the cardboard box that we found when we got here.

On the tenth day in the Hooverville, I told the kids, “Children, we should go up north.”

Everybody pauses from what they were doing. Some kids were moaning of hunger, others were running about and playing, and some were just lying on their backs, looking up at the clouds.

“Ms. Caroline,” a seven-year-old shouted, “Where are we gonna go?”

I thought for a moment. I was beginning to think North Carolina, or maybe New Jersey, but then I said, “Where do ya’ll want go?”

Most of the kids jumped up, and shouted, “New York! New York!”

“I don’t know…” I began. But, hey? What the heck! “Alright.”

They then cheered.

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