Tonight, on the Eve of 2024, I was missing Mama and Daddy and remembering something I learned when I was ten. Some of the most important things I ever ‘learned’, were not learned by being ‘taught’, but by observing. This was a lesson I’ve never forgotten.
In our house, Daddy did the grocery shopping. Mama made her list, gave it to Daddy, and he took one of us along to help with the grocery bags. This day, it was my turn.
Aisle by aisle Daddy filled our cart to near brimming, all the while I carefully checked the items off on Mama’s weekly list.
When we got to the cash register, I remember the cashier said the bill was $122.56. In 1959, that was a lot of money. To a ten year-old, it was at least the price of a new car. I watched the expression on Daddy’s face turn to firm resolve as he reached for his wallet, took out some bills, counted them and handed the money to her.
Outside, we put all the bags in the back of our station wagon and I climbed in the front seat for the ride home. While Daddy drove, I thought about how expensive it must be, with a big family like ours. I was thinking of ways I could help save money, since he spent so much at the grocery.
I remembered hearing Mama and Daddy remind us to turn off the TV, or lights, if we weren't using them. I made a promise to myself that I would try harder. But first, something was bothering me, something important, and I had to know.
"Daddy, are we poor?"
He was quiet as he thought about my question. Then he smiled and reached across the seat to pat my arm. "No, honey, we're not poor. Not at all. As long as we all have each other, we have everything we need. We just don't have a lot of money.”
I've thought about that day many times and I’ve always tried to teach my own children those values. Both Daddy and Mama taught us so much about life and love.
Daddy used to say, “Don’t live life too seriously! You’ll miss the real beauty of life —it’s in the small things. Puddles for splashing; mud for mud pies; mirrors for funny faces, and a hug for anything a Bandaid won't cover up.
Life is measured in minutes. It's important not to miss any, because who knows, life might also be measured in hours.” His message was clear: What really mattered, what was THE most important, we had plenty of …
—Love.
During the depression my patetnal grandparents lived in NYC. Grandmother was diabetic and died when she was 32. Grandfather was a very shkilled sheet metal worker who never remarried. He enrolled his kids in a Dominican boarding school, and he worked all through the depression. My father had horrible tales of the boarding school, but still sent my soster and me to a Dominican catholic school wjere we were beaten and terrorized.
My maternal grandparents lived in the coal belt of southwestetn Pennsylvania. Grandma had pictures of Jesus, Mary and John L. Lewis on hir kitchen walls. She used to pray daily for an easy death. When she was 63 she had a fatal heart attack in her kitchen.
Grandpa had been a miner, but durig the depression the mines were erratic work. He ran a couple stills, gardened, raised some animals, and kept a black cat and a large malinois who were the best of friends. With his oldest sons Grandpa hunted deer and birds. This kept meat on the table for their large family, often with someting left over for needy neighbors. Grandpa died in 1948. I remember his funeral. That was the year of a record blizzard. There was a fatal auto accident on the way back from the cemetery. The next year my Aunt Lizzie died of tb at age 32. I still remember her in her coffin. In those days the dead were still waked in their homes, and lots of food and drink to send off the spjrit