Check It Out: Lessons learned from the generation who invented recycling

By Joan Janzen

A frugal fellow thought he'd re-wire his house rather than hire an electrician. He might be in for a shock!

I began writing this column before Mother's Day and vividly recall the resourcefulness of my mother. As the cost of food on grocery shelves increases, I'm reminded of living a frugal lifestyle as a child.

I'm sure women of my mother's generation formulated a definition of the word "recycle" before it ever existed in the dictionary. Worn out clothes and sheets became patchwork quilts and rags for the rag bag. Flour sacks were transformed into embroidered dishcloths that lasted forever. Feathers became stuffing for pillows, old drapes became new dresses.

Jars were used for storing nails, screws or buttons salvaged from worn out clothing. Bread bags, twist ties, rubber bands, zippers, wrapping paper and paper bags were all saved for later use.

If you didn't use something, it would soon be re-purposed. Shortly after I stopped spending time in my childhood playhouse, it was converted into a chicken coop.

Old tires became swings, salvaged brown paper was crafted into kites, dirt plus water and grass made mud pies, and the expired Sears catalogue was a source for paper doll cut-outs. We spent hours dreaming about toys we wanted to have as we leafed through the Sears catalogue.

Birthday parties were simple affairs. My mom happily provided the hotdogs and a cake stuffed with nickels, which no one ever thought was dangerous. After all, if you swallowed a nickel, everyone knew it would come out in the end (literally). But I don't remember anyone ever swallowing a coin. Even kids couldn't bear to waste a nickel, so they ate their cake slowly and carefully.

Back then everything was made to last. Those old Formica tables and chrome chairs that came in yellow, blue, green, red, pink and every other colour you can think of were virtually indestructible. Sturdy antique furniture got refinished or painted in whatever the trending colour of the day happened to be. And if something happened to break, you fixed it. I still remember the refrigerator that had a metal ice cream scoop as a handle.

Farmers repaired their own machinery. As a pre-schooler I listened to my mom read a manual while my dad fixed the combine and used choice German words while doing so.

The new family car was always polished and clean. I remember sitting on our Chevy car's back seat which was covered in clear plastic. It was really uncomfortable, but it kept the seat in brand new condition and that's all that mattered.

Text books came home at the beginning of the school year and were immediately wrapped in brown paper. I never did remember what the cover of a text book looked like.

Everything was homemade including bridesmaid gowns, grad dresses and haircuts. Every kid had identical straight cut bangs. The money saved on haircuts was spent on hairspray, which kept the ladies' puffy hairstyles intact even in a prairie wind storm.

My dad was an animal lover and was called upon to help during calving season, and when it was time to slaughter cows or pigs, all the neighbours got together to help. Every part of the animal was used, including the tongue, heart, liver, pigs feet, chicken feet, and don't forget about head cheese, a local delicacy. My dad insisted on eating the occasional pigeon, and the local meat shop handed out raw wieners to kids as a treat.

My mom made butter, cheese, noodles, fresh bread and baked goods. I honestly only remember eating at a restaurant once during my childhood, and the freezer was our source of fast food. It's where we grabbed frozen cookies and left the empty container behind. And if you couldn't find anything to snack on, you could always fix yourself a ketchup sandwich. Believe it or not, it used to be one of my favourite snacks.

Lard was stored in a crock downstairs, and wheat was taken to the mill and ground into bags of flour. Everything was canned, pickled, frozen or stored in the root cellar. And there were always jugs of homemade wine in the basement that kids weren't supposed to sample.

Stale bread was transformed into bread crumbs, dressing, fried with butter and sprinkled on noodles and perogies, or made into bread pudding. Coming from German heritage, our meals consisted of at least ten different noodle dishes. Noodles and potatoes were our two main food groups. All you had to do was add sauerkraut or cream and the meal was complete. The cats and dogs survived on leftover scraps, fresh cow's milk and oatmeal.

Books were borrowed and seldom bought. You could order them from the regional library, and they would mail them to you. Even hobbies were practical: knitting, crocheting, rug making, carpentry, and my dad broke horses.

Borrowing money wasn't ever considered. Our parents never thought of themselves as frugal, but they never wanted to be helpless and never asked for handouts. Neighbours cared about one another and helped each other. I learned a few valuable lessons along the way while eating ketchup sandwiches, sucking on cake-coated nickels and playing with the baby chicks that moved into my playhouse.