Whose boys are those with the holes in their pants?"

I cringed. How would my grandpa answer such an embarrassing question?

"Those are my daughter's children, my grandchildren," Grandpa spoke as if he'd just been asked who had won first place in a foot race or just been baptized into the church.

"Those pants are very well ironed," the stranger said.

Elizabeth Byler Younts

Tags: poverty

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