This must seem strange. Ours is not a society that takes pride in being poor or particularly welcomes hardship. (Although there have been such societies. Take the Kwakwaka'wakw people of Northern Vancouver Island for example, whose status in society was increased as they gave, personally, all they had.)
Instead of all of the frustration, the bitterness and the envy I’m sure I experienced at the time, the legacy that stays with me from my poorer days has become something much more inspiring. Certainly, the journey I’ve taken over the years has helped, and that journey begins with a visit to Alward Place, a residence for seniors in Prince George, B.C.
Alward place had been the home of my Great Grandmother. Grandma probably moved into the apartment-style residence so she could still be completely independent yet live simply and affordably.
As with many ‘young folk,’ I didn’t always appreciate my Great Grandmother, and often wondered why she was so surly sometimes. I’m very glad that I formed a new opinion of her and spent a considerable amount of time getting to know her over the last six or seven years, before she passed away this year at the age of 93.
The wisdom I’ve gleaned over that time and over many phone calls has led to a major turning point in my life. The stories I heard, true stories of survival and hardship, have certainly shed new light on my perceived trials and tribulations. My favourite example is how, during the depression, her dad moved the family to a new town to find work. He was a single father, raising four kids. When they moved in late fall, they didn’t have the money to find a proper home. My Great Grandmother lived with her family of five (and sometimes the town’s prostitute, a friend of her father’s) in a tent for three months in the harsh BC winter. In a tent! When I consider the possibility of being poor, it never enters my mind that I could be that poor.
From my Great Grandma, I also acquired an entirely new relationship with food. I learned that tomatoes weren’t always as abundant as they are now. Grandma first tasted one when she was 13. Because it more resembled a fruit than a vegetable, she remembers sprinkling sugar on the tomato to make it more appealing, a common practice in that day. I also learned that folks in that day did not live with pantries full of hamburger helper, chips and Kraft Dinner (a shock, I know), but they made do with much less. Portion control was not a problem. Also, foods weren’t nearly as heavy or calorie-concentrated. Grandma told me about a party she had been to, where she indulged in a single pig-in-a-blanket (a small sausage wrapped in pastry). And that, she almost found too rich to finish!
I won’t go into detail about the types of foods I ate that brought me to my once-heaviest weight of just over 300 pounds, but I will say that I was definitely in awe of the difference four short generations could make. I am also in awe of the resourceful nature displayed by previous generations, and the thrift with which they accomplished many great feats.
That is the new legacy, the new view I have on my harder days; no matter how poor, I always made do. Often times, I was able to experience truly incredible things on a shoestring budget. (I once spent a week in Hawaii for my church conference, but had very little spending money. I had saved for my flight, and the accommodations were donated, but by the last two days of the trip, I had exhausted all of my funds and was forced to lie on the beach all day. Can you even imagine? Lying on the beach in Hawaii was my ‘consolation prize’!)
As I participate in a small church plant in downtown Edmonton, I can see this legacy at work now. We are a very small congregation, and yet we have built an incredibly classy café, we have grown and survived much adversity, and we continue to strive forward. Hopefully, I will remember my appreciation the next time hardship hits.
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