Austerity Without Anxiety: Experience helps when times are thin

As pretty typical Canadian 13- and 14-year olds in the early 1960s, Gary and Tom and I had the following playthings:

bicycles

ball gloves

hockey equipment

several other toys hiding under our beds or stored in wooden toy boxes.

So, it’s not like we grew up poor, or did without all the time, with no toys or shiny dimes to call our own.

We also had, as young teens growing up in Norwich, a small village in Oxford County (16 miles south of Woodstock on The King’s Highway 59), quick access to beautiful natural surroundings and endless entertaining activities.

Thanks to a 90-minute school (elementary) lunch hour, the three of us could bike to the Little Otter Creek (usually called ‘the crick’) after gulping down bologna or chicken loaf sandwiches and cold milk and have an hour or more to kill before afternoon classes began.


["Boys on bikes": photo link]

Noon hours at the crick are some of my fondest memories. We caught crayfish, skipped stones and tossed 3-inch fire crackers by the truck load into the water - at just the perfect moment - to create depth-charge-like explosions to scare the rock bass. (Norwich’s rock bass feared fire cracker holidays more than any other, even pan-fry Friday, aka Fryday).

I must have been feeling particularly confident in myself one noon hour because I willingly shared with my two tall alpha male friends (I was more of a short, wiry beta boy) that I had a favourite game at the crick, I’d invented it myself, and asked if they like to try it.

One said, “Sure, you short, wiry beta boy. Have at it.” (Perhaps not Gary or Tom’s exact words, but close enough for now).

I led them to a short, narrow, newly-constructed wooden bridge a ways from our parked bikes and near a bend in the crick. I picked up a 6-foot long branch and two or three short sticks I’d stashed nearby and walked them to the center of the bridge.

“Watch this,” I said.

I threw the sticks upstream and as they returned to me - one, two, three - I used the branch to flip them upstream again. I got all three airborne and back up the crick before they passed under the bridge. The sticks returned to me. I flicked them upstream again.

“Try it,” I said. “It’s tricky.”

Soon Tom and Gary had their own sticks and branches and were trying to knock me off the throne as World Champion Stick Flicker. They realized it was harder than it looked (90% of the time the sticks ended up along the banks of the crick and we had to run fetch them) and didn’t take to the game with as much youthful enthusiasm as I did. But we did return to the bridge at another time to see who could win the battle for the throne. (I believe I am still reigning champ).


["How about a bicycle holiday in Port Bruce, Ontario?": photo GH]

When thin times roll our way in the future (e.g., due to higher fuel prices) and our million and one entertainments, recreations and car-trip holidays get pared back a bit, or a heck of a lot, many will not know what to do with their time. Some will say it’s the government's fault, of course, push the default button and call for lower taxes. (How imaginative is that?)

My recommendation: Practice living under your means as soon as possible.

Me? I’ll be down by the river.

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