I come from the days when "making do" with what one has was considered pretty normal. Born in 1940, I was raised till my teens by a great grandmother who supported us all by running a rooming house, and taking care of bedridden old ladies. If there was ever a person who knew how to work hard and make the most out of everything twice over, it was my Mama S.
Mama S had many beautiful things she'd saved from far better times that she knew she'd never see again. She especially had loved her fine linens and finely embroidered tablecloths and dresser scarves.
As those precious tablecloths became worn and stained, she cut them up into place mats we used for every meal. Those days, we used a wringer washer and two rinse tubs, and when we did linens, a third tub was filled with liquid starch solution. Then the linens were dried on the clothesline, then sprinkled with water and rolled tight until it was time to iron them. Getting big enough to be allowed to iron the place mats and napkins was a very big deal for me.
When those place mats finally got too worn to use, she simply folded them twice, stitched up the sides, and they became potholders. And when the potholders grew too worn to use, they became scrub rags, or shoe rags for us to use polishing and shining our shoes.
This process, of creatively reusing things until they were all used up did not at all feel like a burden or like any kind of deprivation. It was fun to think up different uses for things; a creative challenge of sorts. And when they were turned into to a new shape and purpose, it was like a little victory that brought a sense of satisfaction and yes, even pride.
She was a firm believer in the philosophy of "Waste not, want not." and it served us and others very well. Like most of our neighbors, we planted more in our garden than we really needed, so as to have some to share. She canned more than we could use, so as to have extra to share. That's just how it was back then, because no one had very much, and sharing made it so everybody could have more.
We all knew the Smiths down the street had a tall ladder we could borrow if the roof leaked, so there was no need to buy one of our own. Same with all kinds of equipment: George had a chainsaw, we had a garden tiller, everyone borrowed and shared to save money. Old Mrs Gates loved to babysit for getting her lawn mowed or her sidewalk shoveled. Betty and Joe had a pickup you could use to take things to the dump or haul wood. Everybody kept an eye on everyone else's kids. And it was almost guarenteed that within 6 hours after someone got really sick, there would be a hot dish delivered to their door. That's just how neighborhoods worked back then, even though we were poor, by today's standards.
There is so much free floating fear in the air now, over the state of this nation. I have my own as well, as an Elder dependent on social security and other programs that allow me to live on my own, and not in some hellish institution.
But still, in a way, I am hoping that this all just might result in people rediscovering each other, and the incredible riches that can be realized from a healthy interdependence and collaboration with others. We have all become so terribly separated from each other over the years: no wonder we end up feeling so all alone. We've forgotten how powerful and creative, how rich in what really matters we can be, together.
Mama S knew that being poor financially did not have to mean a loss of dignity or worth: no one could ever take those things away from her. She ate off those place mats with every bit as much dignity and grace as she once ate off the fancy tablecloth they came from. She never did lose that grace and dignity, even as her body failed and death took her off.
When fear gets inside and is allowed to stay too long, it saps the life force. There is a book I remember from way back called 'Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway". It's ok to be scared: it's human. I just hope we can use the fear as a motivator that will bring us together to do all the things we can't do all by ourselves.