I don’t know why I love so much the stories of the past, told with a nostalgia that probably makes the telling far more lovely than the actual event being retold. But I think there is so much to learn from the grit and fortitude of our great-grandparent’s era, and that we do a terrible disservice to ourselves and our children if we don’t recount their stories.
To be honest, I think our pampered, self-centered lives need a healthy dose of “the way it used to be” from time to time, just to temper us.
I enjoyed this one, a tale remembering the effects of The Great Depression, and I thought you may as well. I plan on asking my husband to read it aloud tonight in its entirety.
“My mother recalls Christmas when an orange in a stocking was a valued gift . One Christmas she received a compact with a mirror in it, something her mother had obtained as a bonus from the Watkins man by buying spices over a period of a year; and that was Christmas. At least there were gifts of some sort in my mother’s family. My father recalls a Christmas when the only gift for eight children was a white-frosted Christmas cake, the baby given the red candy horse that adorned the top; and that was Christmas.
Read all of Frugality: Legacy of The Great Depression