It has been many years since I was studying these topics in college and graduate school. However, I remember a study in which some field anthropologists (labeled elitists by the far right) in South America grew tired of hearing the poor mestizo villagers labeled genetically inferior. They adopted all the pregnant women in one village and all the resulting babies, giving adequate nutrition, prenatal care, medical treatment, and infant care. Their study described the light of joy in the eyes of these mothers and fathers at the resulting perky alert health among these toddlers, who all showed signs of great intellectual potential. There were other studies like this one, and many others that collected other kinds of data which have led to a consensus among scientists that is generally opposed to the conclusions reached by Richwine.
And they did not surprise me. I was one of four children raised almost entirely by a sickly mother with very little intermittent help from my schizoid/alcoholic father. Both of them had nearly starved to death during the Depression of the thirties. We all went hungry a lot in my family. What would you like to know, Mr. Richwine? Does starvation produce a warm, sleepy feeling? Um, no, not at all! It is a cold, achy feeling, with shooting pains in your stomach and extremities. (My mother sounded really angry when I told her I had seen this seriously suggested in some book somewhere; she had REAL knowledge of it.) Is it hard to think straight when you are frequently hungry, cold, tired, scared, and occasionally have a toothache? Um why, yes it is! Did I tend to fall behind in my schoolwork, especially abstract work in mathematics? Um, why, yes I did! And my little brother, who cried himself to sleep frequently because he had worse and more persistent toothaches, wound up mentally ill, growing worse and worse, despite a genuine musical talent that made him able to compose music play the viola, violin, guitar, and piano quite well. He didn't do drugs or liquor, Mr. Richwine, but it was all too much for him, and he finally cracked. After my mother died, still working at age 75 to support him and herself, I was able to find a place for him in a home for mental patients, and he showed some improvement, but, at age 51, he died of a sudden massive heart attack.
I was lucky. Various wonderful people helped. A local doctor, Dr. Julius Rhodes, repeatedly refused to accept payment. Several dedicated public school teachers, such as Mrs. Dorothy Wright and Mrs. Rebecca Brimm, performed miracles of love and patience. Teachers, the Boy Scouts, church ministers, all became aware of our needs and gave us occasional food and clothing. A local grocery store, owned by Mr. and Mrs. Farkus, let us charge groceries when the money ran out before the paltry payday. My mother read to us, comforted us, encouraged us, took us to the library, and urged us constantly to cooperate with the teachers and Chicago Park District employees who were helping us. Mom basically worked about 16 hours most days, at home and on the job. She eventually worked her way up to become a legal secretary, so we finally could afford enough food and dental care. And the wonderful Chicago Public Library System showed me the huge world of books which eventually gave me a way out.
Somehow it was enough. Knowing how to go hungry and make do became a surprising advantage as I worked my way through school. Eventually, although years behind schedule, I got a Master's Degree and then a 35 year career helping schoolchildren with special speech/language problems. I also have a husband and two children, and I swore a mighty oath before God that my children would never go through what I had endured. One of my great joys was seeing those two children get high grades and scores most of the time, winding up a lawyer in Washington DC and a financial analyst in New York, NY.
I have also sworn a mighty oath before God that I will never forget where I came from, never lose my gratitude to those who helped me, and never stop speaking up for all the wretched people of the Earth still trapped in poverty, hunger, and untreated illness. When I hear of people who are helping others, I feel so grateful and so hopeful for the world. Don't give up, helpers! You may think that nothing is sinking in, but later, when the stress in their lives eases up, what you gave them will be a lifeline for some of those children, a small strand that they can grasp to pull themselves up to find the rest of it.
So, Mr. celophane-wrapped pampered candybrain Richwine, it may be difficult for you to see how the grandchildren of struggling poor people could turn out to have higher achievements than their grandparents showed, but some of us understand that their grandparents may have been achieving miracles, against tremendous odds, beyond anything you could conceive possible.
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