My mother died at the beginning of February. That’s a strange way to start a column about the economy, but bear with me.

The first week of my March was spent sorting through her physical effects, through the broken chairs she had saved to repair, through the apple sauce she had made and frozen from a small apple tree in her Victoria, British Columbia backyard, through the gallons of frozen berries, spinach, and herbs she had stockpiled in the chest freezer.

My mother, and my father, who died two years ago, are the last of the generation that felt the lash of the Depression. They were both born into families that knew and recognized that hard times come, and that you have to be prepared for them.

Growing up, I wondered why, when I went home to visit my parents, their fridge would be almost completely empty: Though they loved cheese, they would carve the last hard pieces from the rind of wheels they bought at wholesale prices, so that the cheese on the table looked like giant yellow cheese toenails.

“Why not spend a bit more money?” I thought. They liked wine, but bought cheap Yugoslavian and Italian wine before they branched out into making gallons of their own in the basement.

The truth was they liked good things, but a little nagging thought in their heads meant they couldn’t enjoy spending money on them — because they knew money was a transitory thing. On a trip to a scientific conference in Amsterdam, they served drinks to guests in the caps of Scope bottles: “perfect travelling glasses, and free,” Mom would say. My brothers and I grew up eating cereal out of plastic bowls that once held margarine. They came in all kinds of colours, and I recognized them instantly when I took them out of one of Mom’s cupboards just the other day.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying everyone should drop out of the consumer society and wear old flour bags. What I am saying is that the Western world has functioned for far too long beyond its means.

As a Canadian, I’m well used to governments telling me it’s not fair to pile debt onto my children. Whole governments have ridden into office committed to living within our collective means. Now’s a good chance for individuals to learn to do the same thing in their households.

My mother would not have welcomed the current economic downturn. But she would have survived, just like the ants in Aesop’s fable.

It’s high time the debt grasshoppers — me among them — learned a few of the same survival skills.

Russell Wangersky is the the editor of The Telegram in St. John's, Newfoundland.