As the great economic malaise rolls on, those with long memories (and good history books) tell us that times are eerily reminiscent of the Great Depression of the 1930s. They point out that people are suddenly spending much less, avoiding luxuries and, when they eat out, they order franks and beans and hot chicken sandwiches.

Echoes of a time we all thought had gone forever. No, I don’t go back that far but I can get 60 years out of my memory. And in those days my mother, a newlywed, still devoted late summer and early fall to pickling and preserves — jams, jellies, bottled strawberries, relish. A supply for the winter. A cushion against hard times.

And she, like most of the neighbours, planted a vegetable garden. Not just peas and tomatoes but even potatoes. Hard work for a woman who had grown up in a family where maids did the heavy lifting.

When I remember what I can of those days I sometimes wonder if in many ways we weren’t better off back then.

Let me qualify that. Yes, I know that today we have vast strides in medicine and we are supported by social programs. Without those vast strides I would be dead several times. And I know we swim in a sea of modern technology — although I often fail to see the benefit.

The 1930s, 1940s and 1950s were simpler days. We didn’t have medicare but I do remember that as a child when I needed a doctor, one came to the house. And not just doctors came. Stores came and department stores came twice a day. As did the mail man. I don’t think you could order in a pizza but when you needed smokes and a bottle of seltzer water the drug store would send it over carried by a boy (me) on his bike.

When I started full-time work I didn’t make a lot of money ($60 a week on the Regina Leader-Post) but I could buy a roast of beef at 27¢ a pound and a bottle of scotch for about $4.

I also bought a much-used car for $200 and drove it for nine months with only a $23 repair for a new fuel pump. Then I sold it back to the dealer for $105. I don’t know what the insurance cost because I don’t believe I had any. (Not such a good idea.)

In those days, we didn’t have a lot of super highways and we didn’t know the 10 best ways to guard your stuff while sleeping on a chair in an airport terminal. We often did sleep when we travelled but that was in something called a sleeping car on something we called a train. Better times.

When you called the phone company a person answered, directed your call to another person and you had what in those days was called a conversation. No one ever said, “Please hold. Your call is important to us.”

True, you couldn’t phone across the world with ease and you didn’t have a handy cell phone and you didn’t have a bank card with which you could get money 24/7. On the other hand, if you came up short at the local grocery the shopkeeper would say, “That’s OK, get me next time. I know you’re good for it.” And you were. At least in those days. Back then debt was something you paid down, not piled up.

True, in those days we had never heard of recycling but we were a close-fisted bunch, and when something broke down we took it to a quaint place called the repair shop. And someone fixed it. In those days, we had new heels and soles put on old shoes. Pants could be hemmed and socks darned.

True, we ate simple foods. If someone dumped an oyster mushroom on the kitchen counter my mother would have beaten it to death with a stick. As for star anise, that would have gone on the Christmas tree.

I realize it is foolish to think of those days as better times because you can’t go home again. But I wish I hadn’t sold my $200 car and suddenly I have a hankering for a hot chicken sandwich. And now it’s time to re-hem some pants. IE

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