Introduction
My great-grandfather used to grow rows of beans, tomatoes, and onions in a patch of dirt so stubborn it cracked like skin in the Kansas sun. He didn’t do it for fun. He did it because he had to. Because during the Great Depression, food didn’t come in microwavable bags or meal kits with “easy” instructions and pre-cut vegetables. It came from calloused hands, borrowed seeds, and hard-earned patience.
He grew food. He cooked it. He survived.
And now here we are, nearly a hundred years later, and some people panic over how to cook rice. Not a seven-course meal. Not a fancy reduction. Rice.
We’ve made convenience a god. And in doing so, we’ve forgotten something that once defined us: self-sufficiency.
We Used to Grow to Live. Now We Scroll and Reheat.
In 1930, nearly every American family had a garden because they had to. Gardening wasn’t a hobby. It was a form of insurance. Families grew beans, corn, cabbage, and carrots. They learned to stretch meals with potatoes and flour. They didn’t waste. They didn’t whine. They adapted.
Today?
We throw away wilted arugula we never meant to eat. We order takeout because “there’s nothing at home,” even with a full fridge. We Google how to boil an egg.
And we say it’s just modern life.
But it’s not just about food. It’s about resilience. It’s about life skills. And it’s about the growing gap between what we have and what we actually know.
We’ve Traded Skills for Convenience—and We’re Paying for It
Let’s be honest: a lot of people today wouldn’t last a week in their grandparents’ world.
We have:
- Unlimited recipes at our fingertips
- Stores with fresh produce year-round
- YouTube tutorials for every imaginable dish
And yet…
- Basic cooking confidence is declining
- Young adults often don’t know how to prepare a simple meal
- Food insecurity is rising, even while kitchens sit fully stocked
It’s not about laziness. It’s about disconnection.
We’ve grown up in a world that taught us to value speed over substance. That faster is better. That effort is optional. That “skills” are what you hire out.
But my great-grandfather would tell you this:
If you can grow food and cook food, you’ll never truly starve.
The Rise of Soft Hands and Shrinking Tables
There was a time when every family dinner told a story:
Who picked the beans.
Who baked the bread.
Who learned to make gravy from scraps.
Now it’s drive-thru bags and eating in shifts if we even eat together at all.
We’re raising generations who’ve never stirred a pot, touched soil, or peeled a potato.
And it’s not just sad, it’s dangerous.
Because life isn’t always easy. And when it gets hard, DoorDash won’t save you.
So What Can We Do About It?
We can’t rewind the clock, but we can relearn what matters.
Start with this:
- Plant something, even one tomato plant, in a bucket
- Learn to cook three things from scratch (yes, including rice)
- Bring your kids into the kitchen, not just the grocery store
- Let them fail. Let them try again.
- Share stories about how your family used to do it
You don’t need a pantry full of mason jars or a cellar stocked with preserves.
You just need the willingness to try.
That’s what Grandpa had. And it’s what we’ve let ourselves forget.
Final Thoughts
The Great Depression wasn’t just a time of suffering. It was a time of skill, strength, and stillness.
People knew how to survive.
They didn’t post about it.
They just did it.
And now here we are, surrounded by abundance and confused by the stovetop.
If your great-grandfather could grow a garden, raise a family, and survive a national collapse with grit under his nails and no time to complain.
You can learn how to cook rice.
Let’s stop glamorizing struggle and start reclaiming the strength that came with it.
Not because we’re headed for another Depression…
But because we’re already in the middle of a different kind of poverty:
A poverty of skill.
A poverty of patience.
A poverty of connection.
It’s time to dig our hands back into the dirt and remind ourselves that the life skills of the past aren’t obsolete.
They’re essential.
