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Growing up, my family was extremely poor.

He lived in the south in the middle of the countryside.

It was land mostly owned by my mom's parents.

They allowed my dad to do with the land as he pleased, which amounted to him hunting

and farming on the land.

This was basically a necessity.

We were so poor that even though my dad had a full time job, he'd have to come home and

farm and hunt to feed us.

He grew tomatoes, cucumbers and zucchini and other things, and would bring back deer meat

and squirrel meat most of the time from his hunts.

Even though I was a kid, I knew I couldn't be picky.

My most notable memories of dinners we had included fried tomatoes and zucchini, as well as

deer steak and squirrel dumplings.

I loved it.

Then again, I didn't try much else for a long time.

It was just whatever we could grow, indeed, with an extremely rare outing into town.

But food from town tasted weird to me.

Anyway, when dad did come home and did have free time, he was tired, exhausted.

...