I miss you. I hope you are doing well. How’s baby Suzie? I miss her too. Anyways, I want you to know that I found a job. Enclosed, as you may have noticed, is my first paycheck for the month ($20). It’s not much, but it’s a start.
Mr. Wilkins, the farm owner, says I do good at picking strawberries. He was lucky, and didn’t get hit so bad by the deviled Dust Bowl. Mr. Wilkins also says if I keep up the good work, I could go pick lettuce next season. I hear you make double the strawberry picking. Wouldn’t that be great?!
Maybe they have better housing for lettuce pickers too. I really shouldn’t complain; at least I have a place to sleep. But some of my roommates scare me. A couple nights ago, they snuck out at night to go get food from people’s homes. They asked me to come, but I said no. I don’t eat much anyways; what Mr. Wilkins provides shall suffice.
I hope my leaving makes a difference. Papa would have approved. Please take care of yourself. I wish I could protect you, but this is for the better. I miss Papa. I hope they have food for him in Heaven. Heaven isn’t having a Depression too, is it? More later.
Your “Joey kangaroo”