I love my toys, my powerbook, digital camera, cell phone, radio, stereo system, my boats for summer fun, a nice house, beautiful things. I could go on and make a very long list of things I would prefer not to do without. Things that are newly acquired and newly invented. Old things that have been inherited and treasured. Things.
I just finished reading Ten Lost Years by Barry Broadfoot. It is not as depressing a book as one might expect, given that it is about The Depression of the ‘30’s, a time when many people did without many things. It is about survival. This is a book that should be required reading for all high school students. I wish I had read it when I was young. It would have given me a better understanding and appreciation of my parents. Which I really needed. We were fortunate. During The Depression, my father had a steady job with the government. A good job that let my parents build a house in what later became a prosperous neighborhood. Yet the insecurity lasted long after The Depression was over. My mother would travel far to find a bargain. We didn’t go out to dinner or movies as a family. Growing up during The War to End All Wars, abundance was something that was not familiar. We were careful. We had ration stamps, were very self-reliant, making our own root beer, putting up produce from the garden, playing games with few toys. The radio was a hub for friends and family.
Barry Broadfoot put together an intense, in depth oral history of The Depression in Canada. The people tell their stories with wit and outrage. Most of the people talking in his book begin by saying “Why would you want to know about that? Who would want to hear about The Depression?” People then did not call it The Depression, they just knew things were bad. And those that did not die of starvation or were wealthy, managed. And often with humor, generosity and a sense of community. The usual income was often $20 a month. For a family. Not enough to live on, but they did. They ate from the earth, bartered, helped each other, bought little, managed.
I think one reason people don’t want to talk about The Depression is that it makes it too real, too close, too possible that it might happen again. It is very frightening to think that with all of our material “needs”, the latest in technical communications, new clothes, homes, that this, all our comfort, could disappear as easily as it did in the thirties. Perhaps if we are more aware of our spending habits (and debt loads) we will not have another time like that. I do hope it doesn’t happen again
Posted by leya at January 8, 2004 09:01 AM