My parents were young adults just getting started in life during the Great Depression. Their generation were the original experts on Reduce/Reuse/Recycle. Many of the habits they developed in those days carried on into the '50s, '60s, and '70s when I was growing up and old enough to pay attention to what was going on. Additionally, my father's employer nearly had to shut down the company when I was about 4 years old; his hours were severely limited, causing renewed scrimping and pinching.
For instance, every piece of string that found its way into the house was saved. Likewise rubber bands. (My sister still has the jar my mother saved them in.) Scratch paper was obtained by cutting up junk mail and using the blank side. Cottage cheese cartons and the like were kept for various storage purposes. Wrapping paper was carefully removed from gifts and saved for the next occasion. Even tinsel was saved and reused until its sparkle was no more. (Confession: I, too, still do some of these things. Old habits and traditions can be hard to change!)
My siblings and I grew up wearing hand-me-downs. Nobody worried whether the color was "right" for us; we were just grateful to have clothes to wear. My parents only subscribed to the newspaper if someone was in a class at school that required clippings or current events knowledge. The rest of the time we read several issues of Sunday comics at once, when our aunt passed them on to us. This was another way to save money.
One new pair of shoes was purchased at the beginning of each school year. It was a good idea to not outgrow them too quickly. Our parents wore the same shoes for years, especially their church shoes.
My dad saved bits of scrap metal, fencing, wood, and other miscellany for future use. He kept it in a heap along the bank of the creek on the way to the barn. We called it his culch pile, and now that I have looked for that word in an online dictionary, I see it is a real word and can mean rubbish or refuse. One of my older siblings must have known that, but I didn't until now. I always thought they just made it up.
When I was 14 years old, my dad retired and began to make plans to move to a piece of property two states away. He purchased an old utility truck and began moving the contents of his garage, barn and culch pile. I think he even transported his old John Deere tractor on that flatbed truck. I don't know how many trips he made. He built a large workshop on the new property and we lived in it for nearly a year while he built the house, so he wasn't able to fill up the work shop with all of his "treasures" until we had moved into the house.
Eventually, we loaded up a U-Haul with whatever we were taking from the old house. Most of our furniture was sold or donated; it wasn't worth moving. Mama must have driven the family car, and Daddy drove the U-Haul. There were only two of us living at home by then, and I suppose we took turns riding with either parent.
We brought along two dogs and at least two cats. We almost left my cat behind, because he was ill-mannered, but I was so sad, he ended up riding in the back of the U-Haul in a wooden crate. I don't remember where the dogs rode. A third dog had already traveled with my dad to our new home to keep him company while he built the shop, and had been left with friends when he came back to help with the final part of the move. Alas, the dog ran off from their place and was never seen again.
My sister's blue point Siamese cat got preferential treatment, of course; she was a princess and made sure we all knew it. We camped at least once along the way and I don't know how my sister kept her from running off while we were camping; I don't think she had any kind of carrier for her. Perhaps Her Highness had no interest in the wilds.
In my diary, I happened to mention the tall pine trees towering on both sides of Highway 95 somewhere between Coeur d'Alene, Idaho and Sandpoint, Idaho. This area is very familiar to me now, and the tall pines are mostly gone. The highway now consists of four lanes with a wide median. Many homes, businesses and storage units have sprung up along the sides of the highway.
This post got started because a post by @generikat got me to thinking about that move, and its complications. It was the only time my family moved when I was old enough to remember, so it was a major change for me. I was reluctant to leave my friends and all that was familiar, but our new home, new friends, new church, and new school provided me with many good experiences.