the fifties | Pujakins

20180829_104856 When I was a young wife in the fifties, my father helped us buy a house in the small town where I had grown up. Just outside my kitchen door was a garbage pail sunk into the ground. I would step on the lid, dump in my orange peels, potato peelings, stale food, etc. and once a week a man would come by with a big truck, pull out the bucket, empty it into his truck, and along with all the other garbage he had collected, take it to feed his pigs.

His piggery was deep in a wooded area and the smell bothered no one because it was quite isolated. I expect that today his pig farm would have been deemed unsanitary and done away with. Then it fitted in with a more appropriate attitude of the time of waste not want not. It made a good thrifty use for what otherwise would go to waste. In those days there was a more sensible attitude toward what we have and what we need, or so it seems to me. The Covid 19 crisis seems to have exacerbated a prevailing need to have more and more.

Not long ago people were treating toilet paper as if it were about to vanish from the earth. One person even spotted a woman loading her SUV with an entire tray of rolls from a Walmart. Other items vanished from shelves as people reacted out of fear of lack. How much I need is one amount. That need springs from a logical, rational approach to having. How much I want may stem from a fear of loss, a desire to own more than I already have, plain greed, or envy driven by a competitive nature.

Need and want are such different conditions. Operating from an awareness of need is different than operating from a feeling of want. I once read a story told by someone waiting in an airport who overheard a mother and daughter saying goodbye to one another. As they embraced, she overheard one say to the other, “I wish you enough.” The other replied with the same words. At first it seemed a curious thing to say for a farewell. As I reflected, I realized that to have enough is actually an absolutely perfect condition in which to be.

When I have enough, I have the space to put it. When I have more than enough, whether food needing refrigeration or clothing to find room for in our shared closet, I have to become creative about fitting whatever it is in. I may end up shoving things to the back of the refrigerator and losing sight of them, or into the back of the closet and doing the same. Then what I have lost sight of may become either moldy or essentially useless. It is said that much food goes to waste in this country, and no doubt leftovers may be a large part of that food.

Raised in a New England family by a thrifty German mother, I try to be very mindful not only about my leftovers but also my wardrobe. My beloved, however was raised by a mother who enjoyed abundance and showered it on her family. Sometimes we experience minor conflict around our divergent opinions. As the days go by, my refrigerator goes from full to empty and back again. Our closet, too has its moments. What matters to me is that we work out what constitutes enough for each of us, and that we make peace with our different opinions.

Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Write me at tashahal@gmail.com

There seems to be a great deal of anger circulating these days, whether in the form of “road rage,” destructive actions involving armed individuals, bullying that makes the news, and more. The majority of video games and even the comics and illustrated books for young people are very violent in nature. Furthermore, this country has been at war with some nation, group or another for a very long time. Anger is all around us, yet it is also a band aid over grief.

I am reminded of the fifties, a time for bleak news, back yard bomb shelters, and dark tales on TV and in the movies. The climate then was one of fear and to some extent, existential responses to dire circumstances. “Die young and make a good looking corpse,” was a popular saying. Although people were more polite on the surface, anger and fighting were also a common reaction. Bullying was almost acceptable–considered normal, many thought it would toughen someone up for the “real world.”

When I was in grade school I was often the object of bullying. One of the reasons may have been because I was slow to anger, yet when I did finally respond, I would explode into a fit of rage. Toward this end my classmates would taunt me, snatch my hat or my eyeglasses and do whatever they could to get me to that breaking point. Most likely they enjoyed the show. When my parents complained they were always told I had started it.

My father and mother were both rather fiery and temperamental, which might be why I disliked getting angry. I was uncomfortable with their arguments, which frightened me. Although they loved each other dearly, they disagreed about a lot of things. Being as young as I was I didn’t really understand much about this, I only knew I felt uneasy and afraid when their voices rose. This in turn made me want to avoid that kind of behavior.

Often it has been my job to try to get people who disagree to come to some kind of understanding. Yet each person has a point of view based on his or her experience and perhaps his or her beliefs. It is almost impossible to argue with someone’s beliefs. By their nature these are not based on logic but have an emotional base. What we feel generates and supports our beliefs. Perhaps the best that can be done may be to agree to disagree.

However, anger is a conditioned response that can be controlled and then changed to a different one. With practice, a compassionate response can be substituted. To me anger seems a waste of energy. When I encounter senseless violence or cruelty, I have taught myself to feel my sadness, and then to say a prayer for the afflicted. For my part, to counter the disturbing news items I read in the papers or see on TV I make an effort to be kind when and where I am given the opportunity. It might be only a drop in the ocean, however, it’s something I can do.

Photo and Text by Tasha Halpert