ESSAY
pinchpenny M Y M O T H E R the
(and early
environmentalist)
ESSAY BY LAURA D. ROOSEVELT
PHOTO COURTESY LAURA D. ROOSEVELT
M
y mother Food in our house almost emerged never went into the trash. from the Another of my mother’s Depression, catchphrases was “use-uppa,” World War a sort of mantra having to do Two, and with odds and ends in the fridge rationing, as a young woman who that might go bad if left too believed that it was possible — long. If two spears of uneaten noble, even — for people to get by broccoli from last night’s dinner with a lot less than they thought reappeared in tonight’s salad, my they needed. My parents had mother would proudly proclaim, money, but my father could be a “Use-uppa!” My siblings and I bit of a tightwad. Faced with the use this term ourselves now, and restrictive “allowance” he gave her maybe our kids will one day, for managing household expenses, too. My mom candied citrus my mother economized, cut corners, rinds and gave them as gifts. and got creative. She learned to She stored vegetable peelings abhor waste of any kind, including and chicken bones in a plastic wasted effort: Believing that there bag in the freezer until it was was always something in the house time to use them to make a that needed to be carried from chicken stock. After that, they one room to another, she came up went into the compost, along with the catchphrase “Never go with coffee grounds, eggshells, Laura Roosevelt’s mother, right, recycled her anywhere empty-handed.” There and other organic kitchen own (second) wedding dress for her daughter's was always something — today’s waste. Grass clippings from wedding a year later. Laura, then 18, is on the left. mail, a couple of rolls of toilet paper lawnmowing, pulled weeds, — sitting at the top or the bottom raked leaves, and shredded of the staircase, waiting to be carried one way or the other by newspaper were also compost fodder, as was hair harvested whoever might next be going in the appropriate direction. from our hairbrushes and the cat brush. (“It’s full of Self-reliant and resourceful, she learned to do things herself nutrients!” my mother swore, and she was right: Hair contains rather than pay others to do them. She rewired broken lamps. traces of up to 14 different elements, including gold.) She repainted rooms. She kept chickens for eggs and meat, If a tree died on our property, it became wood for our and grew much of our produce in her own vegetable garden, fireplace. If something arrived in a wooden crate, the crate making sure to plant crops ample enough to allow for canning was broken down for kindling. Old newspapers were used for the winter. She learned to sew, and made much of our to start the fire, except for the Washington Post’s colorful clothing, griping about having to buy my school uniforms, Sunday comics section (the “funny papers”), which my mother which she considered overpriced. When she bought clothing repurposed as wrapping for Christmas and birthday presents. for herself, it was always on sale, and if someone admired one Sometime in the 1970s, my mother became an avid of her evening gowns, she’d take pride in announcing that environmentalist, which synched nicely with her frugal habits. she’d found it marked down three times at Loehmann’s. Continued on page 58 M A R T H A’ S V I N E YA R D / S P R I N G 2 0 2 1
33
