When a cousin died five years ago, I came back to my small home town's Polish funeral parlor for an afternoon wake. I sat unobtrusively in the back. A small group of women filed in front of me who are the salt of this town's earth. They were members of the Rosary Sodality.
They live lives of necessary and practical frugality. All were dressed in similar fashion -- sturdy snow boots, slacks, puffy, quilted snow parkas and hand knit hats and scarves.
They are the family farm wives, with ruddy faces and chapped, calloused hands. They and their husbands have worked hard their entire lives, hoping to help their children to a better life. (The New England farm tends to be a small family business, not the large thousand-of-acres-farm of the American West and Midwest.)