Generation Gap

Today's younger generations think nothing of discarding what they don't want, don't need, and/or don't like. Those of us enjoying memories from much farther back keep, conserve, reuse, recycle, and pass on to others who may be able to get another use out of whatever it is. My theory is that mine is the first generation after The Great Depression, so our parents learned during their marriages to waste not/want not. I distinctly remember being reminded to scrape the butter wrapper, then store it in the 'fridge to use to grease the baking pans each weekend. We made do, but we also made from scratch almost everything we had/used, including bread.

Even the failed batches, rare, but it did happen, were somehow recycled: sometimes, the worst went to the chickens, ducks, and/or pigs in lieu of purchasing animal food. Our yard dog always ate the scraps and gnawed the meat bones from the Sunday roast dinner and the payday sirloin juicy steak, as we always called it. Bread crumbs fed the birds, but stale bread became French toast. Although we never had too much, we always had what we needed, but little more than that.

Yesterday, I visited Sam's Club for the second time in a week, a rare happening in my world. I purchased what I needed the first visit, but went back and purchased a new paper shredder as it's time to shred past student records and the little machine I've used for the past 5 years simply is not up to the task. I also have a filing cabinet that I can empty of records literally going back into the 1980s. Another failing of my parents' generation was the teaching to save everything because one never knows when one might need it. Of course, I realized a really long time ago that I never need it, but old habits are hard to break.

As I passed the food aisle at Sam's on my way to the register, I spied a pepperoni pizza and my taste buds came to full alert. I'm not a big pizza eater, but I've had a hankering for one, so stopped and took a look. A new, extra-thin crust promised less baking time, and a really big pepperoni pizza was about $6.50, which made it cost-effective. I saved it for my Friday late afternoon meal and by that time, my mouth was watering.

I always cut away half the crust, pile the toppings onto the remaining half, and then bake the half-pizza. As I peeled away the extra half, I thought to myself that the dough resembled a baked cracker prior to baking: really much too thin, perforated with holes, and not all that appetizing. I preheated the oven, then put the half-pizza onto a baking sheet and into the oven for the requisite 15 minutes.

Yuck: the crust burned black all around the edges, but was pasty in the middle. Ditto the toppings, which either burned to inedible or barely heated. The sauce was awful in both taste and texture, and the cheese didn't melt, which means it was probably a cheese product, rather than real cheese. I tasted it, said a nasty word, then ate the first piece. It was not good, but I somehow thought that maybe another piece would taste better/different, so I cut another slice, tasted it, confirmed my initial "nasty" evaluation, but still ate the entire piece. The third piece I donated to the dogs, sans everything but the pepperoni and sausage balls that I deemed okay for the dogs to eat.

When all is said and done, I could not believe that I actually ate 2 big pieces of the worst-tasting pizza ever! If I did not have dogs to eat the meat products off the last slice, I probably would have eaten that slice, too. I was raised not to waste food -- and even long past that need, I was going to eat the pizza, rather than toss it out, which I should have done after the first bite.

It's easy to think that we all should grow past our youth, but those lessons learned young stay for a lifetime, lurking in the background while waiting for a time to pop to the forefront of our lives. I don't save left-overs in little plastic dishes unless I know I have enough to actually eat during a meal. I toss out bread that goes stale for the birds to enjoy, rather than make French toast, as all that butter/syrup is not recommended for my diabetes. I do feed the dogs bits of the meat I eat, as well as give them the bones for gnawing, but don't have the chickens, ducks, or pigs for the rest of the consumable trash products I generate.

And, of course, I do pick up change off the pavement that other people discard because my generation also learned that ... a penny saved is a penny earned. When it's a nickel, dime, or quarter, I feel as if I've hit the trifecta of free money and stash it in a tin can meant for all these treasures.

These are the memories that tie me to my childhood and come calling on an early Saturday morning.