Poster eyes

When I illustrated yesterday's entry with a half-dozen World War II-era posters, I could almost hear the reaction from some quarters -- a combination of nostalgia for a nation united and revulsion at government propaganda.

It was a different time, a different country. Most Americans alive today can't grasp the concepts of self-sufficiency, conservation and recycling even for their own sake, much less actually sacrifice in service of a greater good.

Take something as fundamental as food. During World War II, citizens were encouraged to plant "Victory Gardens" (called "War Gardens" during World War I), ostensibly so that more farm-grown produce could be channeled to our fighting forces around the world.

It's estimated that by 1944 a stunning 40 percent of all vegetables consumed in the U.S. came from 20 million Victory Gardens.

The feds also urged Americans to "Can All You Can" -- to "put up" surplus home-grown produce for use between growing seasons. (Now you know why your grandma had all those Ball jars on her basement shelves.) Not only did gardening and canning help stretch families' budgets, they also made precious ration points go farther.

Sometimes we forget that The Greatest Generation endured wartime rationing of -- ready? -- tires, cars, typewriters, sugar, gasoline, bicycles, shoes, silk, nylon, fuel oil, coffee, stoves, meat, lard, shortening, vegetable oils, cheese, butter, margarine, processed foods, dried fruits, canned milk, firewood, coal and more. The national speed limit was 35mph.

I have a lasting memory of how my father ate green onions -- base, leaves and all. He was the only person at our family table who did that. At the time I thought it strange. Now I get it.

He wasted nothing. As a child of The Great Depression, he never knew for sure when his next square meal would come. And as a young man during World War II, he understood that food was, in truth as well as by the government's definition, a weapon of that war.

He always cleaned his plate. So now do I and, coincidentally or not, I'm the only one at our family table who can be counted on to do that -- every single time.

Grow your own food. Make it last. Clean your plate. Sound advice -- but can you imagine the dustup today if those suggestions came from the federal government?

Big Brother! Groupthink! Socialism! Hell, these days the First Lady can't plant a garden or push breastfeeding without getting criticized by Caribou Barbie or the Mindless Minnesotan. Nanny state!

There's no law against propaganda campaigns containing good stuff, and yet we've become embarrassingly adept at saluting or dismissing ideas based solely on the source. That's what sustains all anarchists and anti-government cynics. But as I said a couple of years ago,

"Blind rejection, blind acceptance -- both are manifestations of ignorance. Not everything that our government does is sinister, any more than everything it does is wonderful. Skepticism (not paranoia) instructs us to differentiate between the two, and then critical thought (not ignorance) allows us to see facts."

The same goes for political campaigns, of course.

Americans pulled together, albeit briefly, after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. We couldn't sustain our unity, however, choosing instead to withdraw to safe cover behind walls of ideology.

I don't believe that we have it in us to do what The Greatest Generation did. Our "more perfect Union" is divided beyond the capacity of today's Americans to repair.

What individual citizens can do, within our homes and communities, is to begin reclaiming our American legacy of respect, hard work, frugality and selfless service. We won't see this nation's strength restored in our lifetime, but the work must start now.

How does your garden grow?

Between seasons

Next weekend will bring the first of November, a sort of boundary for me -- October is autumn, November is winter. To herald the change, today the first flakes of snow, mixed with some spitting rain, fell outside my window.

Looking around me, I notice that I'm running behind on my seasonal chores. I still have to stow the grill and the lawn furniture. For the first time in five years I won't be winterizing a car, but the motorcycles will need to be prepared for storage. Eventually I'll pull the mower deck from the lawn tractor, lube the chassis and swap the engine oil for winter-weight, and then mount chains, wheel weights and a plow blade -- but not 'til I've finished dealing with autumn cleanup.

I haven't even started on that yet. Our trees are still hanging on to most of their leaves.

Incidentally, this year I've made a conscious effort to burn no more gasoline on lawn care than absolutely necessary. If the grass grows a bit long and a few leaves blow out of our yard, that's fine with me. Let the neighbors grumble.

Snow, on the other hand, doesn't defer to frugality and can't be ignored. With any luck, we won't have another record-setting snowfall like the one we saw last March.

I haven't been a total slave to procrastination. The furnace has had its annual checkup. Yesterday I gave Mrs. KintlaLake's car a good once-over and changed the oil. My truck (that's what I'm calling it now) had a thorough mechanical inspection and a complete transfusion before delivery, so it should be ready. This weekend I'll shut off the water supply to the outside faucets.

Anyway, my chores will get done, the seasons will change and I won't resist the inevitable slide into winter. In fact, if our fireplace was in better shape and I had a decent heater out in the workshop, I might actually look forward to it.

Missing, presumed lost

I was born to parents of "The Greatest Generation," their American ethic forged in the fires of The Great Depression and World War II.

They and their peers walked through this world as living examples of respect, hard work, frugality and selfless service. Their children, Baby Boomers like me, were given every opportunity to carry on their legacy.

We, as a generation, failed them.

We sabotaged our nation, living as if we're entitled to what our parents worked to achieve. Raised by good stewards, we became addicted to consumption and irresponsible acquisition.

We presumed that the "American Dream" was our birthright, that "American exceptionalism" was in our DNA, willfully ignorant of the fact that both were earned through preceding generations' sacrifices.



As we grow older we see what we've done, who we've become. We struggle to right our self-absorbed ship and teach our kids, belatedly, what our parents taught us.

It's having little effect, of course -- and is it any wonder? They've been watching us. In their eyes we have no credibility on the subject.

Because our example is missing, the lessons are lost on them and probably for another generation at least. Perhaps our children will pass through trials of their own -- economic collapse, terrorism on these shores or other crises -- and build a new American ethic that'd make their grandparents proud.

I'm not optimistic about that.

(See hundreds of other wartime posters here on The American Legion's website.)

Another treasured tool

Ten days ago I devoted a post to three tools that once belonged to my mother's father. Now I'll pay respect to a utilitarian gem from the other side of the family.

This "monkey wrench" bears no maker's marks, so I can shed no light on its provenance except that it was my paternal grandfather's. It measures just 3.875 inches long closed; it opens to one inch. The frame and jaw appear to be cast steel and the adjuster is brass.

As for how the tool was used, I can't say. I do know that my dad's dad, born in 1900, raised Guernsey cattle during the Great Depression. Too poor to afford a tractor, he farmed the land with teams of Belgian draft horses -- "Tom" and "Jerry," to name two. Perhaps he carried this small wrench in an overalls pocket for tending to implements, harnesses and such.

He was killed by one of his Guernsey bulls two years before I was born, but my father often spoke of his dad's frugality, the product of desperate necessity. I'm willing to bet that the man didn't own dozens of wrenches -- he probably had two or three at most, and he damned sure made them last.

That tells me more about this tool than any maker's mark ever could.

A case of consumption

An old New England aphorism has been rattling around in my head:

"Use it up, wear it out;
"Make it do or do without."

That led to my thinking about a couple of my grandfather's favorite expressions:

"There's nothing so satisfying as leaving a store empty-handed."

"If a ball of string costs seven cents, two for a dime isn't much of a bargain if you need only one ball of string."

Frugality, or simply the ability to differentiate between wants and needs, comes to most of us either later in life or out of necessity. Common wisdom tends to make more sense as the years pass. My grandfather, a dairy farmer raising a family during The Great Depression, had no choice.

For me, it's a little of both.

Like most kids, I was a dedicated to thoughtless consumption. Our teenage spawns are the same way, totally focused on turning every waking moment to their personal material advantage and getting their hands on The Next Big Thing. It drives me nuts.

I understand that it's the nature of dependent children to be selfish. It still drives me nuts.

At some point -- and honestly, I can't tell you exactly when -- I began deriving less satisfaction from consumption and more pleasure from making material things last. A quest for shiny new things receded and a more thoughtful approach to utility emerged.

It wasn't that I stopped buying stuff, as George Carlin put it -- I just felt the need to buy less stuff, less often. I kept the stuff I had, and if my stuff broke I did my best to fix it instead of replacing it. When I did buy stuff, often I bought used stuff.

I finished leftovers rather than giving in to momentary cravings. If there was a tool I'd likely need only occasionally, I'd borrow. Wanting for a bolt or a bracket, dipping into a bucket of salvaged parts took the place of a trip to Home Depot. I developed an arguably strange sense of pride in wearing a 20-year-old sweater.

Foolishly, I thought I had the whole consumption thing licked -- and then my financial situation went south, revealing that I wasn't nearly as frugal as I thought I was. Suddenly aware that I still had far more stuff than I possibly could need, I saw many other ways to make do and do without.

Building on previous efforts, then, my personal economy continues to evolve. It's not a matter of living like a Quaker or a Scrooge -- it's about being responsible and accountable instead of caving to the wish for material gratification.

Today I live well within my means. Even though I got here relatively late and out of necessity, I think my grandfather would like that.

On channeling Glenn

Back in the warehouse at work, I keep my desktop radio tuned to a local all-talk station. I'm no one's disciple, mind you, nor have I changed my opinion that conservative talk radio is an intellectual desert. Still, since I'm armed with independent critical thought, what I hear often serves as a useful starting point.

Glenn Beck -- still crazy after all these years -- fills the 9am-to-noon slot each day. And while he's more apocalyptic and decidedly Goddier than I am, the truth is that we share many of the same views.

The difference, simply put, is that I get there without melodrama, precious metals, right-wing social ideology or reliance on prophecy.

One morning last month, Beck devoted an hour of his radio show to personal and family preparedness, recapping a webcast he'd done the night before. I present his stream-of consciousness notes here, unabridged -- I'll come back with my observations on the other side.

BUY FARMLAND
Grow your own food.
Live near people & Begin to make alliances-of-skill. (barter)
Live near farmland.

ELECTRONICS-FREE
Paper copies of important documents.
Know where your deeds are. Take them in an emergency.
Russian gangs in trouble.

COLLEGE/SCHOOL
Apprenticeships are the future.
Discuss the value of school for what you can earn.
Do not look for labels -- they will become meaningless. (Yale)
Find other forms of school. (online)
Teach young children now that college is not a given.
Demand merit for school & student or pull your time/$.
Educate yourself at all times. Always read.
Have a hardcopy of all important books/documents.
Learn old and/or lost practices.
Mending/canning/farming.
Learn to fix an engine.
Re-learn reading a map.
Know the news. Life can change quickly.
Be able to defend your positions by knowing the other side.

TRADITIONS
Preserve what is important. Shed all others.
Conserve & preserve. Reclaim & restore.

MONEY
Gold, food, cigarettes, liquor, sugar, ammunition, guns, seeds, skills. (barter)
Knowledge.
Have 30 days' cash-on-hand.
Buy a house.
Stop all excess spending. Buy quality only. Forget fashion-only.
Measure twice, cut once. Do not waste.
Consider a fuel-efficient SUV/truck.
Consider something prior to 1979. Fix yourself.

LOCATION
Live near like-minded people. Texas, mountains or where God still plays a role in real life.
If you cannot move (no place will be untouched), create network.

BUSINESS/WORK
Be the best you can be. Be the one employee no one can fire.
Small biz -- be the product or service no one can cancel.
Conserve & preserve.
Learn from the Depression.
Advertise when no one else is: Chevrolet.
Stay in business, but downsize & preserve. (arch)
Honesty, integrity & charity.

BE GEORGE BAILEY
Spit yourself out of the system. Turn upside-down now.
Put your money where your heart is.
Do business in symbiotic ways -- we need each other.
Do not try to put others out of business -- let them do it.
Gimbles & Macy's.
Never be the smartest man in the room.
Take care of your employees the best you can.
Take less & give more.
Read Franklin & Washington.

LIFE
Do not plan your life & then move. Plan, listen & obey.
Practice at least Franklin's American religion.
Serve.
Honor all of your obligations.
Preserve -- food, time, money, energy.
Teach your children the basics. Values/principles.

Do with less now. Less of a shock if it comes later.
Serve/share.
Join a 9.12 group. Link online. Phone & locations.
Have a meeting place established for family.
Read the Bible.
Have a gun & know how to shoot it.
Resolve those issues that are holding you back.
Stop all behavior that does not expand you or others into good.
Make amends for what you have done.
Find peace & get to work.
Teach children work ethic.
Tolerate nothing that you feel is wrong by remaining silent.
Let your children see you stand.
Be honorable in all of your dealings.
Understand that anger is a part of life but never feed it.
The first look is not a problem. It is the second look.
Never be the best man/woman in the room.
Be happy & optimistic. Life will go on. Make plans for the future. Get married. Have children.

Does any of that (minus the obvious) sound the least bit familiar?

Flip back through KintlaLake Blog, especially my posts on urban resources and preparedness, gardening and canning, frugality and keepers and more. Notice the striking similarity between Beck's mindset and my own.

I'll admit that appearing to channel a talk-radio klaxon bugs me a bit. The point, though, is that Glenn Beck and I are, at least in this regard, on the same preparedness page -- and that's a good thing.