It's nearly Thanksgiving Day 2008.
Thanksgiving always has been my favorite holiday; it's not just because of the food. I adhere to "family and togetherness," rather than the focus on gift-giving that surrounds Christmas. I think it's soul-stealing and menial to focus on how much "stuff" can be stuffed under the tree; I have my Nana, aged 91, and my father, deceased since 1983, to thank for the marks they made on my soul about togetherness and family and the meaning of holidays.
Nana still is going strong this Thanksgiving, and for that, I am thankful. She has shrunk to about 5 feet tall, maybe less, and runs around in her tennis shoes, still able to stretch a dollar bill further than anyone I know.
And it's because she was raised during the Great Depression. Nana quit school in the sixth grade to go to work for her family; she still has her union membership book from all her years in the restaurant industry.
She waited tables nearly all her life. I remember when she would come home from the Youngstown Country Club, with her tips and leftover food that would be our meal that night.
She taught me to count money and save a penny. Never toss a penny aside like it doesn't matter. Every penny matters.
Nana owned homes and owned rental property, not only in Ohio but in New Jersey; she ran a delicatessan in East Orange, N.J., and is one of the savviest business people I know who stuck with the principles she learned in the Catholic church. You never take more than you need, and you always share what you have. Charging interest, by the way, is a sin.
She learned all that she needed to know about money from surviving the Great Depression, and she didn't realize it all those years that she reared me, but I paid close attention and I internalized everything she taught me.
As an adult, I appreciate her lessons more than she'll ever know. She used to have to eat lard bread, and make clothes out of potato sacks. In my childhood, you never went without, not under Nana's watch. In our poorest years as I was growing up, she taught me how to wash clothes on a wash board; to get them really clean, you used a plunger; we survived oftentimes on the barest of necessecities, and I can see its value now, as an adult, and as our country is in the midst of its own economic crisis.
At the University of Oklahoma, we study sophisticated models of economic prediction and theories in order to understand the performance of markets and why certain countries are mired in poverty.
While I appreciate and adore my education, at the end of the day, I follow my intuition and remember everything Nana taught me. There always are sacrifices that have to be made; you can make a meal out of can of beans; and no matter how much you don't have monetarily, you better iron your clothes before you step out of the house.
Not having money is no excuse to look like a slob. And you can always find a thrift store where you can buy a bag of shoes for $1, Nana's own version of a brown bag special.
I was reminded again of Nana's powerful lessons as I read the column I've linked to below in Fortune magazine, which is written by Walter Stoiber, aged 91, who is from Boardman, Ohio, near Youngstown, which is my hometown and where Nana and my mother reared me.
Stoiber talks about the simplicity of the time and how creative kids were forced to be; in my childhood, we had to do the same things. We could make a box into the best playhouse and garbage bags became make-shift sleds in the snow; when you did get a dollar, it went under the mattress or into a savings account. You always gave extra long, hard thought to how it would be spent, or if it would be spent at all, and this was the other lesson from Nana: You will never regret saving your money, although you will regret spending it.
Yesterday, my sister amazed me with her stories of how crafty she's gotten with coupons. She lives in Phoenix and she has managed this month alone to save 30 percent on her grocery bill overall, just by clipping coupons.
A run to the grocery store yesterday (in preparation for Thanksgiving) cost her $36 for what would have been nearly $80 worth of groceries.
That's impressive, but that's what we've been taught all these years, and now, my sister's co-workers are seeking her advice for how to save on groceries.
Read the story below. It reminds me of Nana, and it reminds me of why we DeRosa kids as adults have so much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving.
http://postcards.blogs.fortune.cnn.com/2008/11/20/guest-post-the-great-depression-as-i-remember/
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3 comments:
C
Had to smile at your grandmother's Depression memories. I can remember as a kid sometimes seeing my dad put a piece of bread in a bowl and top it off with a little milk and sugar before eating it. He'd say that's what they had for dessert during the Depression.
Seeing as how my dad was born in 1930 (and passed away in 2004), I guess he'd have some of those memories.
While we're on the topic of memories, am I the only person who feels like he's relating a Little Rascals episode when I talk to my kids about my own childhood?
Case in point : Talking about my dad being "laid off from the mill." My dad was a steelworker in Warren OH, so in the 70s and 80s, there were times when business was down, so they'd have temporary layoffs. So he'd be around the house for a few weeks or a few months. He always got called back, but seeing as how he suffered two major workplace industries and eventually went on disability, I don't know if that's a good thing.
But at the time, as a kid, you weren't all that worked up about it, because a lot of your friends' parents and your neighbors were in the same situation. You'd notice fewer presents on Christmas and birthdays - and see more things like peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches in your lunch - but that was about it. You were shielded from the economic reality.
But talking to my kids about the times my dad was "laid off from the mill" makes me feel like I'm describing riding in a horse-drawn buggy.
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