Growing up in the depression years will soon be forgotten as far as first hand accounts go. Most of us are moving on in years and those hard, simple times will no longer be listened to or written about. It is, however, good incite from those of us who were raised then and who journeyed through and beyond.

It would be easier to tell the things we had rather than write about the things we didn’t. I feel very sad when I look at children today, encumbered with too many toys, TV’s in their bedrooms, personal computers, name brand clothes that have to come from the right shops…….the list is endless.

I haven’t met any children lately who worry about what the next meal will be…….anorexia was the norm in the 30’s because food was scarce and people worked hard. The calories didn’t last long in mal-nutritioned bodies. I look at the old black and white pictures of that era where adults were too thin and bony, holding children that only stared……. there were no smiles.

Today’s generations do not care to listen to stories of sacrifice and doing without. It is something they cannot imagine or identify with……they roll their eyes and groan if they think they are going to hear how we walked long distances to school, froze in the winters and were miserably hot in the summers. It was common to have two outfits for school….homemade of course….one would be worn one whole week and the other worn the next week while the first was in the “wash.”

I wouldn’t trade for anything. I grew up with original Americana. We were a family in the truest form…..we ate our meals together, we did the chores together, the work was divided up and done together…….the entertainment was enjoyed together. Life was built around things that could be enjoyed without spending a lot of money.

If mom or dad couldn’t fix it, make it or do it…….we did without. If they didn’t have money we didn’t buy things. There was no credit and no credit cards……there were no debts. What little we had was paid for and all ours. Might not have been something to brag about but today’s world might function better with the same attitude.

I remember the linoleum in the dining room was so worn you could no longer see the floral design except in low traffic areas. Mom was content to wear the same old brown coat year after year and I only remember one old purse she carried. We weren’t concerned about impressing anyone, just making sure we were honest, did our work right and studied hard for good grades.

One year my dad got my mother a box of Evening in Paris perfume with some body powder. She kept it in the bedroom for years before she ever used it and when it was gone, she kept the bottle and the box…..clippings of poems and a few special handkerchiefs were kept in it. That box remained in their home until mom’s death.

I’m sorry kids can’t be kids any more. The clothes in the stores are suggestive and too mature for children….even little ones. Everywhere the look is to be young but young people don’t get to “be” young. The pressure on school children to excel and compete is staggering……tutors are hired where mom and dad used to sit at the kitchen table and go over the work with their children. Now there isn’t time and in most cases the school work has surpassed mom and dad’s education.

I miss family life as it was. I miss seeing clothes hanging on lines, drying in the wind. I miss the excitement of birthdays and holidays…….now it is something to be worked into an already crowded schedule. I miss making things for people who loved “hand-made” articles and cherished them….. trading flowers over the garden fence……porch swings on the front porch and children skating on the sidewalks. I miss the chalk markings of hop-scotch……

Am I soured on today’s youth? No. They didn’t ask for the world as it is now, didn’t make it that way….they just came along and are growing up in it. But I am sorry for life lived too fast, friends and families so far apart and too much money. It isn’t what we have materially that counts…….it’s who we are.

I’m old now as youth looks at me but they haven’t been where I have…..and I don’t envy where they are.

You’ll never understand old age until you get there……..it’ll never happen.

Essentially Esther