I didn't grow up during the Depression, but my parents did. It definitely affected their behavior with regard to saving, spending, and a need for financial security. I can see that the effects of this somehow rubbed off on me. I'm a Mission Viejo bargain hunter. I love finding a good deal!
When my mother passed away a few years ago, I got a chance to see the unbelievable cache of a true bargain hunter who honed her skills during the Depression era. My Mission Viejo home seems like it's loaded to the gills with "good deals." Now I realize that I am a mere rookie at bargain hunting.
As my sister and I cleaned out Mom's stuff from her Mission Viejo home, our eyes were opened to what the Depression did to many women. Evidently during that time, and to some extent reinforced during the years of WWII, most of what people really wanted was not available. If you ever found a good buy on something rare and desirable, the next step was to quietly scoop it all up, buy it, and hide it in a safe place. The inelegant word for this would be horde.
My parents both told me that during the Depression, they had very little when they were children. Even food and the necessities were in short supply. If they happened to get something that wasn't immediately consumed, they put it away to hold for a time when they really needed it. The fear of being totally without guided this pack rat tendency.
Even long after the Depression was over, my mother held onto that fear of one day "running out." Whenever she found some inexpensive treasure at Pic'n'Save (which is now BigLots) she would buy up a dozen and carefully hide them in her Mission Viejo home, in her storage room, under her bed, in the backs of cabinets, under the sink, in the attic. We found hundreds of pairs of shoes, most we had never seen her wear. Many of them appeared to be quite old.
One of my Mom's favorite things to stash away was fabric. She was a fabulous seamstress, but no one could sew as much fabric as she acquired during the 70 years since the Depression. There were flats of mint green boucle polyester and polyester prints of every kind. My mom really liked polyester, I guess because it was certain to last into eternity. There were hundreds of spools of thread, dated best by the colors that coincided with the fashion trends of the various decades since the Depression. Most of the cottons had rotted, but those neon pink polyester threads of the '70s had really hung in there.
Being a good sewer, my Mom made a lot of clothes, especially pants. Being tall, she always had a problem finding pants long enough. We must have found 150 pairs of handmade polyester pants in her stuff, most never worn, just put away for a time when she ran out, I suppose. U doubt if you could find another Mission Viejo home that had as many pairs of pants in it.
Cleaning out my Mom's horded valuables took a lot of hard work and many calls to the Goodwill. Being a good bargain hunter myself, it was very difficult to see all this stuff she cared about enough that she horded it being hauled awa6. Actually, I felt compelled to transfer a lot of her stuff to my own collection of things I'll never use. It makes no sense, but somehow I thought it would have pleased her.
When I got the stuff to my own Mission Viejo house, I discovered I really didn't have enough room to keep everything, so out of respect for her inability to throw anything of any value away, I ended up getting rid of some of my cache to make room for her stuff. It's crazy, but it seemed like the honorable thing to do. I put her need to horde over my own. Isn't that what a good daughter should do in this circumstance?
To tell you the truth, my fondest memories of my Mom were the times we spent looking for bargains. We both got the same kind of thrill out of finding a fabulous deal. Even when we weren't shopping together, we would call each other and talk about our latest "find." I really miss those days. I loved my mother so much. She taught me so many things. I wish she were still alive to teach me more. I may be a pack rat, but one thing is for certain, I learned from the best.
Call April Hay
http://www.GreatMissionViejoHomes.com/
http://www.socdreamhomes.com/
http://www.eragenerations.com/
Photo credit
When my mother passed away a few years ago, I got a chance to see the unbelievable cache of a true bargain hunter who honed her skills during the Depression era. My Mission Viejo home seems like it's loaded to the gills with "good deals." Now I realize that I am a mere rookie at bargain hunting.
As my sister and I cleaned out Mom's stuff from her Mission Viejo home, our eyes were opened to what the Depression did to many women. Evidently during that time, and to some extent reinforced during the years of WWII, most of what people really wanted was not available. If you ever found a good buy on something rare and desirable, the next step was to quietly scoop it all up, buy it, and hide it in a safe place. The inelegant word for this would be horde.
My parents both told me that during the Depression, they had very little when they were children. Even food and the necessities were in short supply. If they happened to get something that wasn't immediately consumed, they put it away to hold for a time when they really needed it. The fear of being totally without guided this pack rat tendency.
Even long after the Depression was over, my mother held onto that fear of one day "running out." Whenever she found some inexpensive treasure at Pic'n'Save (which is now BigLots) she would buy up a dozen and carefully hide them in her Mission Viejo home, in her storage room, under her bed, in the backs of cabinets, under the sink, in the attic. We found hundreds of pairs of shoes, most we had never seen her wear. Many of them appeared to be quite old.
One of my Mom's favorite things to stash away was fabric. She was a fabulous seamstress, but no one could sew as much fabric as she acquired during the 70 years since the Depression. There were flats of mint green boucle polyester and polyester prints of every kind. My mom really liked polyester, I guess because it was certain to last into eternity. There were hundreds of spools of thread, dated best by the colors that coincided with the fashion trends of the various decades since the Depression. Most of the cottons had rotted, but those neon pink polyester threads of the '70s had really hung in there.
Being a good sewer, my Mom made a lot of clothes, especially pants. Being tall, she always had a problem finding pants long enough. We must have found 150 pairs of handmade polyester pants in her stuff, most never worn, just put away for a time when she ran out, I suppose. U doubt if you could find another Mission Viejo home that had as many pairs of pants in it.
Cleaning out my Mom's horded valuables took a lot of hard work and many calls to the Goodwill. Being a good bargain hunter myself, it was very difficult to see all this stuff she cared about enough that she horded it being hauled awa6. Actually, I felt compelled to transfer a lot of her stuff to my own collection of things I'll never use. It makes no sense, but somehow I thought it would have pleased her.
When I got the stuff to my own Mission Viejo house, I discovered I really didn't have enough room to keep everything, so out of respect for her inability to throw anything of any value away, I ended up getting rid of some of my cache to make room for her stuff. It's crazy, but it seemed like the honorable thing to do. I put her need to horde over my own. Isn't that what a good daughter should do in this circumstance?
To tell you the truth, my fondest memories of my Mom were the times we spent looking for bargains. We both got the same kind of thrill out of finding a fabulous deal. Even when we weren't shopping together, we would call each other and talk about our latest "find." I really miss those days. I loved my mother so much. She taught me so many things. I wish she were still alive to teach me more. I may be a pack rat, but one thing is for certain, I learned from the best.
Call April Hay
http://www.GreatMissionViejoHomes.com/
http://www.socdreamhomes.com/
http://www.eragenerations.com/
Photo credit
