Lessons My Grandmother Taught Me About Getting Through Hard Times

This self-quarantine makes me think back to my childhood and how my grandma always kept a supply of staple food items in three large metal cans on the back porch. She was born in 1921, and she remembered the lessons she learned from her youth. One of her favorite sayings was, “it’s the poor rat that has one hole.” It is all about leaving yourself options and having a plan b, c, d, and e. 

We weren’t exactly poor, but we indeed weren’t well off. Like many Americans, we were always just a couple of paydays away from disaster. My grandma worked as a psychiatric nurse’s assistant at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, DC’s mental institution known mostly as the place where the would-be assassin, John Hinkley, served time after his Taxi Drivermoment with Ronald Reagan.  Some of my fondest memories involve the times when my cousin and I would polish her nurse’s shoes before she went off to work. We’d spread newspaper on the floor and take turns slathering on the white shoe polish before letting them dry and buffing them to a shine.  By the time she stepped in the living room, dressed in her spotless white uniform, her shoes were like new.   

Instead of buying us name brands, my grandma focused on keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table in our DC rowhouse. While other kids at school sported designer jeans and leather sneakers, we wore Sears Toughskins and sneakers from the shoe bin at the grocery store or knockoffs from Snyder’s shoe store.  So what if my Adidas had a fourth stripe.  Despite the relentless ridicule from the neighborhood kids, we knew mama was doing the best she could with the money she had.  Besides, we knew their clothes were made to keep up with the latest trends, but our clothes were made to last.

Things my kids take for granted now were considered a delicacy to us back then. We only ate fast food when someone in the family worked at McDonald’s or the old Gino’s that later became KFC.  Instead of eating Big Macs, we ate house burgers just like Eddie Murphy’s mom used to make.  Now and then, my aunts and uncles would put together their money to order from the local carry-out or Baltimore’s Delicatessen down the street. We’d gorge ourselves on steak & cheese subs, Italian cold cut sandwiches, fried rice, and Lo Mein. To us, it was a feast.  We ate well and felt rich.   

We may not have had much, but we knew how to take care of what we did have. My grandma taught us how to cook, clean, iron, and sew at a young age. Most importantly, she taught us how to make a way out of no way. In other words, at times, we had to be resourceful and make do with whatever was available.

Those skills are serving me well right now. During the COVID-19 crisis, I’m immensely thankful to have a roof over my head and the ability to put food on the table.  Everything else is window dressing; made for trends vs. made to last.  Going forward, I hope we all teach our kids to do more with less and prepare for lean days. Remember, it’s the poor rat that has one hole. Always leave yourself options and be thankful for what you have.

Stay indoors, wash your hands, and be well.