Not a Single Thing I Do Is New

Grandma was sustainable before it was cool

Baking bread, mending socks and making do—I obviously did not invent these activities. And if my grandmothers were alive today, they wouldn’t label my lifestyle “zero-waste living.” They wouldn’t label it at all. They’d call it living. Grand-Mummy and Grand-Mère did all this stuff—and much more.

Of course, I don’t want to romanticize the old days before antibiotics, Advil and birth control (the old days for now, at least). And my grandmothers certainly didn’t live in Utopia. We may not be able—much less want—to live like they did. But is consuming less really so terrible? Or slowing down when possible? Or practicing a little self-sufficiency?

WWGD: What would Grandma do

Grandma grew a bit of food. She may have grown a few herbs—or perhaps she tended a large vegetable garden. During World Wars I and II, Americans grew 40 percent of the nation’s fruit and vegetables. But maybe you don’t want to grow food or you don’t have the space. Think of this list as the Small Acts of Rebellion Cafeteria. Pick and choose what you like. Leave the rest behind at the buffet bar.

Grandma cooked and ate whole foods. In Grandma’s day, corporations had yet to churn out ultra-processed foods that she would not recognize as food because they aren’t food. She didn’t go out of her way to buy whole foods or need to parse labels such as “natural” or “no added hormones” or “low in [insert demonized nutrient-du-jour here]” because Grandma could only buy whole foods. Today, if we don’t want to eat ultra-processed foods—and are fortunate enough to not rely on them—we must actively avoid them, which the industrial food system makes challenging. (Go here for more on ultra-processed foods.)

Grandma didn’t run to the store for one ingredient. If Grandma needed a substitute ingredient for a recipe, she’d look around her pantry and MacGyver it. If she ran out of brown sugar, for example, she would “make” it by combining granulated sugar and molasses or she’d simply add sugar and molasses directly to the recipe without pre-mixing because Grandma was efficient. Also, Grandma didn’t eat sugar constantly…

Grandma preserved food. She dehydrated food. She fermented food. She may have canned food. (Go here for the difference between fermenting and canning.) Jars of preserved food lined Grandma’s shelves.

Grandma harnessed her community. Sometimes fermentation became a community event. At the end of the harvest, Grandma, her family and friends would gather to chop the cabbages for the sauerkraut or prep the apples for hard cider. Later, they’d all gather again to collect their jars of delicious cultured food.

Grandma picked fruit trees. Grandma hated to see ripe fruit weighing down the branches of a tree, never to be uneaten. She’d knock on neighbors’ doors, asking permission to pick it. At home, she’d make jam. And if Grandma had a fruit tree of her own, she’s share with her neighbors. (Don’t see any fruit trees in your neighborhood? Search Falling Fruit for urban fruit trees in your city.)

Grandma wasted no food. She couldn’t afford to! My Grand-Mère had 13 kids to feed. To be clear, I simply want to go back to the no-wasting-food part of this scenario, not the cranking-out-and-raising-13-kids part. (Register to vote here.) Grandma stretched every morsel of food into delicious meals. She turned leftovers into new dishes and transformed scraps into staples such as vegetable broth and ricotta and fruit scrap vinegar.

Grandma didn’t buy single-use plastic. She couldn’t—it didn’t exist! Yet, she survived somehow. We can too!

Grandma didn’t buy consumer products. My grandmothers came of age before the Mad Men had begun to manufacture need through clever marketing. Cheap goods designed to be quickly replaced hadn’t flooded the market—think single-use razors and blue toilet pucks and disposable diapers. In Grandma’s day, throwaway everything would have been considered sacrilege.

Grandma saved up for what she wanted or needed to buy. Grandma would purchase, say, a new, well-made sweater after she’d saved enough money to pay for it. Or she’d at least put that sweater on layaway and pay monthly installments (credit cards and their loan shark-level rates had not yet proliferated). Once she had paid the full amount, she’d finally be able to bring the sweater home. Then of course, she’d take care of that new piece of clothing, not throw it out after wearing it once or twice.

Grandma made do. While Grandma saved for that sweater, she’d wear an older one to stay warm. Or maybe she’d upcycle Grandpa’s worn sweater and cut it down to her size.

Grandma mended stuff. I inherited the mend gene. I recently replaced the deteriorated, slack elastic band in not one but two pairs of my daughter MK’s pajama bottoms. I can’t tell you how satisfying that felt. I’ve never experienced that same satisfaction from buying new pajamas. And I saved money! (Or rather, I saved MK money.) If you have stuff in need of repair but not the skills to repair it, look for a repair café near you. (Read more about repair cafes here.)

Grandma made stuff. Grandma found a use for everything. When I was little, maybe five years old, I remember watching from the shag carpet as Grand-Mère sat in her chair crocheting a small rug out of plastic shopping bags.

Grandma shared her skills. Grandma may have held onto a secret recipe or two until her deathbed but for the most part, she passed down her skills to her children and grandchildren—growing vegetables, cooking food, mending a shirt. When I first started my blog, I thought about calling it “Lost Knowledge.” As corporations have rendered us helpless, we’ve lost basic skills. But these skills have come back in style.

Speaking of style… My 92-year-old mother

Again, I don’t want to idealize Grandma’s world of fewer rights and choices for women. The good old days weren’t so good for a lot of people. But we don’t have to live in Grandma’s world to embrace some of her values—thrift, self-sufficiency and community—and to adopt some of her skills.

---