My mom (1918) talked about the “Cheney Man” - the guy that had a horse drawn cart and would collect rags and other junk. She lived in the city, and I think he was the only one that still used a horse. She would always run down to pet the horse.
She saved up all the scraps of tin foil. When she had a big ball - the size of her head, she brought it out to the junk man.
“Hmm - I'll give you two cents for it.”
“Two cents! I'd rather just keep it!”
She was so disappointed.
When she passed away, and cleaning out her million-dollar home, there were eight sheets of used tin foil stored in her oven. Washed and flattened out the best she could.
There will never be another generation with the wisdom, ingenuity, sense of community, and plain comin sense that they did...