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More Top Ten Items Collected by Depression Era Moms

More Top Ten Items Collected by Depression Era Moms

box collectionLast Tuesday’s post listed ten of the items my mother, raised during the Great Depression, continued to save for decades after the Depression ended. Pretty much until 2008 when she gave up housekeeping and moved in with my brother and his family. Ten is not nearly enough space to list 8 decades worth of collecting, so today’s post doubles the list, as well as doubling the awe of present-day penny pinchers who have no idea what it means to be truly frugal.

10. Used aluminum foil. Yes, foil can be washed carefully in soapy water, dried with a dishtowel, smoothed on the counter, folded like a napkin, and saved in the same drawer as the box of foil…sometimes more than once.

9.  Free pencils from the lumberyard, the feed store, and especially in the commercial building at the county fair. The fair was providentially scheduled only a month before school started, so Mom hid that pencil haul until the night before school began when she doled them out to her children, who had no idea pencils could be purchased at the dime store.

8.  Free yardsticks from either the furniture store or lumberyard. But Mom preferred the ones from the lumberyard because they made better paddles in case her poor, deprived, perfect children needed a spanking.

7.  Half-gallon paper milk cartons, plastic gallon milk cartons, and tin cans. These were saved in January and February in order to have a sufficient supply in March to use for starting tomato, pepper, cabbage, and other garden plants.

6.  African violet leaves and geraniums stems. When these items accidentally snapped off either plant, perhaps when poor, deprived perfect siblings tussled with one another and knocked the plant over–unaware that their mom had just acquired a new, stout yardstick from the lumberyard–the leaves and stems were immediately collected and placed in a peanut butter jar (see #7 from previous list) filled with water to re-root. Only when the plant bits were safely delivered to their new, watery home did the mother field test the yardstick on her poor, deprived, perfect children’s backsides.

5. Plants spotted in the ditch. Mom dug these out with the shovel she kept in the trunk–for emergency situations like spotting lilac suckers along a fence line–while her children huddled in the back seat praying no one they knew would drive by and recognize them. Or their mother. Or their car.

4. Shoe boxes. (see #8 from previous list)

3. Cardboard boxes* used for for sending packages through the mail (again see #8 from previous list) wrapped in…

2. …brown paper salvaged from large paper grocery sacks. Or the boxes mentioned in #3 might be filled with presents and covered with…

1. …used wrapping paper. The present would not be secured with string–that would be tacky–but with masking tape (cheaper than cellophane tape) rolled into a sticky-side-out tube and discretely tucked under the outside flap of the hopefully not-too-wrinkled, wrapping paper saved from last year’s Christmas, birthday, wedding, baby, and bridal shower celebrations.

*To be fair, the boxes pictured at the top of the page came from my mother-in-law (also raised during the Great Depression), not from my mother.

So, what’s missing from the list? Add your items in the comment box.

Frugality Lessons from the Masters

Frugality Lessons from the Masters

Frugality Thriftiness Penny-pinching Never-spend-a-nickel-if you-can-keep-it-in-your-pocket is a defining trait of my mother’s branch of the family. The trait once again came into sharp focus when Mom, the man of steel and I spent the night with Mom’s sister and husband on the way to a reunion for their side of the fam.

One of their daughters, my cousin, also spent the night. Her father reminded us there would be a $5 charge per car to get into Split Rock State Park where the reunion would be held.

“But, Uncle Jim,” I teased, “isn’t there a plan in place for all of us to meet outside the gate, have one vehicle get the sticker, and then use that vehicle to ferry everyone into the park carload by carload?”

His daughter chimed in, “That’s what you would have done when we were kids.”

Uncle Jim looked like he was considering the idea, and Aunt Donna said, “We could fit quite a few people in the back of the truck.”

Their daughter and I chuckled at this proof that the frugality thriftiness penny-pinching never-spend-a-nickel-if you-can-keep-it-in-your-pocket behavior we had observed throughout our childhoods remains strong.

The next morning, I went downstairs to shower. In the basement bathroom, that shower stood as a silent and colorful witness of our parents’ frugality thriftiness penny-pinching never-spend-a-nickel-if you-can-keep-it-in-your-pocket lifestyles.

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Our mothers purchased the ceramic tiles during Crazy Daze in the 1960s for a ridiculously low price. The two women spent the better part of a morning digging through boxes of tile remnants, snatching every complete sheet, then selecting incomplete sheets until they thought they had enough to tile their entire basement showers. Once home, they arranged and rearranged the tiled sheets until they were satisfied with the crazy quilt patterns they’d devised.

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After my shower, I went upstairs and grabbed my camera. “For some pictures of the shower tiles,” I explained to my cousin who’s four years my junior. “I want to record this evidence of frugality thriftiness penny-pinching never-spend-a-nickel-if you-can-keep-it-in-your-pocket. Do you remember when our moms bought those tiles?”

She nodded. “Remember how they spent what seemed like hours digging through the boxes at the store and arranging patterns when they got home?”

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We grinned at one another full of the memory of our mothers, younger than we are now, stretching their hard earned money to cover their concrete block basement showers with colorful tiles while we smirked and rolled our eyes.

Her father interrupted our conversation. “Ready to go?”

My rellies climbed into their truck. The man of steel, Mom, and I got into our car. “We’ll meet you when we get there,” I said. “We need to get gas along the way. Where’s the cheapest place?”

“Rock Rapids.” My aunt responded in the blink of an eye.

She was right, of course.