I’m a Baby Boomer, born to parents who lived during the Great Depression. My mother was a very young girl during the Depression’s early years; my dad was in his late teens. Each walked away with different perspectives.
My mom always considered her family poor, living in rural Fargo, ND. My dad grew up in somewhat better circumstances on the island of Saint Croix, in the Virgin Islands. He was a Danish citizen until the U.S. purchased the islands in 1927 and he came to the States. 
Marrying after World War II, they lived simply in Chicago in a one-bedroom apartment until I came along. My sister followed a couple of years later.
We were a family of modest means that thought nothing of eating leftovers. We were taught to throw garbage (litter) in trash cans and to pick up after ourselves in public places. Our week off of school in April was not referred to as “Spring Break,” but Clean-Up Week. Kids from our block got together to sweep sidewalks and curbs and eliminate trash. We were even given a certificate from the City of Chicago for our contributions.
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