Sometimes it seems that the holiday spirit has become lost in a sea of glitz, competition and rampant consumerism — sometimes exemplified by the pushing and shoving that accompanies Black Friday weekend.
The Christmas season wasn’t always like this, though.
Growing up in the Depression Era and raising children during World War II, two Vancouver neighbors, Rose Funk, 92, and Jean Matthews, 94, remember the days of rationing, cardboard toys and being just so grateful for anything they had.
The season was about friends and family, making things by hand and enjoying a feeling of sharing, the two friends said.
“That’s the thing I feel most sorry about,” said Matthews, as she enjoyed breakfast and coffee with Funk at Sunrise Bagels earlier this month. “We used to have a sense of satisfaction cooking things ourselves, making things. We’d string cranberries and popcorn and wrap them around the tree. But after the war, people saw they could make money from those things, so they started selling them instead.”
And that commercialism came with a hidden price, she said. It stole part of the holiday’s soul.
During the war, things such as butter, sugar and flour were rationed. Small presents, like homemade jam, were precious — even more so because of the personal touch, she said.
“I remember my mother took her rations and made jam for me one of those Christmases,” Matthews said. “I’d bring it out every morning at about 6 a.m. and put a little on my toast. It was wonderful, and special.”
Funk, who during the war lived in a chicken coop that had been converted into a small house, said presents back then were a much smaller affair. Kids felt lucky to get one or two gifts, and they didn’t have to be particularly fancy.
“During the war, of course, you couldn’t get anything metal, so the toys we got for my son David were cardboard,” Funk said. “Toys for children had to be improvised from what was available.”
One year she and her husband got her son a cardboard gas station set, which, despite the lack of quality or cost, brought a smile to both her and her son’s faces as they reminisced.
“It took my husband and one of the neighbors half the night to put it together,” Funk said, laughing. “It was all tabs and folding and trying to figure out how it went together.”
David Funk, who visited the two friends that morning, also remembered his enjoyment playing with the set when he was little. Toys were made from just about anything and didn’t need to be fancy, he said.
“As boys, we loved war toys, but we didn’t need (plastic) guns or anything back then,” he said. “We used sticks and rocks, whatever we could. And it was just as fun.”
Matthews remembers her children breaking out the metal pans in the kitchen and turning them into a makeshift drum set. Making do with less inspired more creativity, she said.
“Kids playing with ready-made stuff today, they’re not using what’s around them,” Matthews said. “And it seems like they just want more and more.”
A day taking the bus to Portland for some window shopping and a few hot dogs was a huge event for the women and their children during the war years, they said.
“You couldn’t afford to buy anything, but the holiday window decorations, they were so beautiful,” Funk said. “We’d take the kids over and just window shop all day.”
Credit cards also weren’t around in those days, so there was no going into debt over holiday season chaos.
“Back then, it was cash or layaway,” Funk said. “Back in the war, I remember buying a cookie jar on layaway. I spent 25 cents a week until I could buy it. And I still have it, believe it or not.”
The two friends said it’s hard to remember exactly when things grew so commercialized. In some ways, it started not long after the war was over and rationing ended, but it was a slow process that continued to creep into what we have today, Funk said.
“After the war, we appreciated so much just being able to go to the store and buy butter and sugar and flour,” Funk said. “It didn’t become so greedy until much later. But it may have started then.”
Funk remembers one of those rationing winters when a more well-off friend’s oil heating stove broke. She invited their family to share her family’s somewhat shoddy coal stove during the days to stay warm.
“I apologized so much for our home, and she said something that stuck with me,” Funk said. “She said ‘We come to see you. We don’t come to see your furniture.’ That made an impact. It’s not what you have; it’s who you are that’s important.”
Matthews agreed.
“The difference now is that people seem to know the cost of everything but the value of nothing,” Matthews said. “It’s flipped around. I miss what was the spirit of Christmas. It was about who you are. Today, it’s far too much about money.”
Funk says she still tries hard to find that spirit in the holiday season today.
“That’s why I call my tree my ‘memory tree’ — it’s not glitzy balls and things from stores, it’s handmade ornaments from friends,” Funk said. “That’s one thing I miss. Back then, it was wonderful. Everyone was so warm and mellow. Nobody was out to outdo each other. Nobody had much. We just shared.”
