There But for the Grace of God

“There but for the grace of God go I.”

My dad used the expression often, when he saw a fellow down on his luck, a homeless person, someone out of work or on relief.  My father’s greatest fear was that he would lose his job.  It was a fear that he came by honestly.  He was twelve when the Great Depression hit and he saw firsthand the human toll that the depression brought.  He saw the fear, the frustration and the anger that consumed men who only wanted one thing; to work.  When he was older dad worked in the Civilian Conservation Corps (C.C.C.) and when America entered World War II he served his country in Europe.  He returned to The States with an Italian bride and after bouncing around Utah and West Virginia they settled in The San Francisco Bay Area where they spent the rest of their lives.  And while the war deeply affected him, making him a pacifist, it was the Great Depression that made the greater impression on my dad. 

By the time that I was in my teens my parents had been working in well-paying jobs, had paid off the house in San Mateo which had appreciated wildly since they bought it for 16 thousand dollars and their income had been supplemented greatly when my mom sold some property in Rome that she’d inherited.  In the seventies and eighties they invested in Certificates of Deposit which in those heady days yielded as much as 15% (compare that to the less than 2% yield on today's 50000 dollar five year CD).  And while my parents were materially comfortable, some might say well off, dad was never really comfortable in his own mind.  That nagging phobia of being out of a job dogged him.

When dad was finally forced into retirement at a relatively young age the dire consequences he’d imagined never came to pass.  That’s because they were savers.  They always paid themselves before they paid the bills or made purchases.  They weren’t wasteful.  When I grew up jeans sporting holes in them were neither a ridiculously high priced fashion statement nor where they retired to the rag bag in the garage.  They were a pair of perfectly good pants that needed a patching; handy iron on denim squares that looked silly but gave new life to a pair of jeans.  Food was rarely scraped off the plate, down the disposal.  You cleaned your plate and tonight’s leftovers were tomorrow’s lunch. 

My parents weren’t skinflints, they were frugal.  There’s a difference; one that isn’t always appreciated these days.  Their frugality was formed by their early life experiences; my dad’s during the depression and my mom’s in war torn Italy.  They’d had intimate knowledge of scarcity and so they valued all that they’d worked hard for.  They valued the very fact that they had jobs.

Just as the Great Depression left a mark on dad, it left one on me.  This despite the fact that I was born 24 years after that Black Thursday in 1929; or maybe because of it.  I wasn’t really that far removed from those dark times was I?  Not only did I hear my dad’s stories but those of aunts and uncles and many of the other adults who lived through it.  All of them carried memories, some carried scars.  And after all, I was only 12 years or so removed from the final vestiges of those times.    

It was a week ago that a co-worker and good friend was let go by the company.  I don’t know the circumstances behind her dismissal; I just know that it saddened me.  As she turned to go for the last time my dad’s words came back to me; “There but for the grace of God go I.” It isn’t the first time those words have come to mind.  They came back to me often in my previous job when, during our great recession, I watched many of my co-workers turn and leave for the last time.  I often wonder what became of those people who were forced to stare into the abyss.  

As far back as I can remember I’ve always feared being out of work, being homeless, wondering where the next meal would come from.  I came by it honestly, born of my dad’s phobias, my parents’ frugality and nurtured by the stories of their contemporaries.     

In 30 years of marriage my wife and I have rarely been wasteful.  We’ve valued the gifts of a roof over our heads, food on the table and the opportunity of a day’s work.  Somehow we’ve remained immune to the rampant consumerism that’s plagued our country.  We don’t own a 40 or 50 something inch flat screen high definition TV, not because we can’t afford it but because we know that we don’t watch enough TV to really care about it.  We don’t own smart phones, not because we dislike the technology but because we don't feel the need for them.  We shed ourselves of credit card debt long ago; our combined credit card balances are usually somewhere between 0 and 500 dollars.  If we can’t pay for it we don’t need it.  We’ve always refused to buy into the get rich quick snake oil schemes that have ruined so many families.  Like my parents, we always pay ourselves first whether it’s putting money into the 401k or the savings accounts.  We got here by using common sense, learning by mistakes, remembering the experiences of those who came before us and realizing that personal catastrophe can be a final paycheck away.  

Will the same be said of those who follow us?  We’re going through the worst economic downturn since that Great Depression.  Are my children and their own contemporaries heeding the warnings of what is so far the signature economic crisis of their times?  Aside from a couple of downturns in the savings rate, Americans have been salting away more of their disposable income.  The question is, will they keep it up? 

I would like to think so but I’ve seen that Americans have short memories.  I can recall every run on fuel efficient cars after each gas crisis and then the ensuing amnesia as Americans returned to the four wheeled behemoth.  And Americans are suckers for planned obsolescence.  If you don’t believe that just wait till the next iteration of phone, notebook or computer unveiled by Apple that will spawn the usual “gotta have it” hysteria.

Will Americans return to the days of rapacious consumerism or will frugality and common sense be lasting legacies of this recession?