Poetry Bus Goes To War

The WWII Canned Food Queen


I have put up a storehouse of food
more food than I could eat in a year of gorging
more food than my neighbors could eat
if I were to share

They eat boiled tongues of Jews in labor camps
says Mrs. Mayer at the dry-goods shop
and they eat soup made of boiled shoe leather
but they’ve always been a little strange, the Mayers

I buy my jars there, the paraffin, and the sugar
but so many things a body can’t buy anymore
like butter, thank God the Russells make their own
and they take my canned goods in return

I don’t go to the Mayers’ store as often since
she started telling tales from some relation
who “got out” she says, the world has gone crazy
she says, but my Roger’s over there

He’s saving the world for democracy
although I haven’t heard a word from him
in a worrisome long while, but I suppose
they keep him fairly busy in the Airborne

Imagine, my Roger jumping out of planes
he was such a frightened little boy, afraid
of the dark, and I don’t think they sleep in tents
they’re taking France by storm I hear

We’ll show those Germans a thing or two
and get it all sorted out over there soon enough
Well my mister will be wanting his supper
and I believe I’ll serve my apricots

Bought several lugs for almost nothing
last summer and it was a hot week in the kitchen
but I love these little orange balls in a row
I love my rows of jars, I love my precious food

With this poem, I’ve joined TFE’s Poetry Bus world tour. Our stalwart driver this week is PJ Nolan. Our assigned task is to go through a bunch of photo archives, using a secret number, then use that same number to land on one photo, about which we write.

I did a complicated bit of counting, and my photo is from the U.S. National Archives, created by the Department of Agriculture Extension Service.

A note about this poem: A generation of women came out of the Depression saving everything, and as the U.S. went into World War II, they continued to do everything possible to be frugal. My relatives were among them. I admire their courage and dedication.

But they were also unaware of the Holocaust and skeptical of the horrors described by American Jews. They were naive about the utter devastation in Europe for various reasons, one of which was the American propaganda machine. Another reason was the almost complete lack of on-the-ground news in mainstream radio and newspapers.

They were given a simplistic view of what lay in Europe. The 82nd Airborne mentioned in this poem, for example, suffered enormous losses during the D-Day invasion of France, with half its men killed or wounded in the ferocious fighting. My narrator's Roger might well have been killed in the first three days of landing behind German lines.

So this poem is not a celebration of the achievements of the heartland's housewife during the war. People were starving and dying in Europe by the thousands, the tens of thousands. And the housewife didn't know.

To see other attempts at photo-prompting, visit our illustrious driver.