By the end of the second year of the depression, all of Marty's savings from the good years had dissipated. The family was left to live almost exclusively off the land. As Marty was finally forced to go, hat-in-hand, to seek credit from Alistair for products, which could only be obtained from the store, these were strictly rationed to minimise his store bill. Often the coffee grounds or tealeaves used for a given meal were saved and used for the next by adding a small quantity of fresh coffee or tea. Their clothing took on a threadbare look and was patched time and again. Ginny discovered that flour sacks worked very well for making blouses and shirts. Shoes were so worn that toes often protruded through them and the worn-through soles flapped as the thread wore out. Marty would wire them back together with bailing wire. Every penny had to be carefully accounted for.
Marty sat at the kitchen table one evening, counting the change in the money tin that they kept in a high cupboard. The mass of coins, which were mostly pennies, was spread out over the table.
"Ten dollars and thirty-two cents," Marty remarked in a despondent tone, "That's all the money we have in the world. With the price of produce these days I'll be lucky to pay the taxes."
Ginny came over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, "We still have a little of my money left."
"Precious little, I'll bet," Marty replied. "I noticed that you have been buying things all along. Like that bolt of cloth you brought home last week that didn't show up on the store bill."
"Well, the girls will need new dresses for school in the fall," Ginny replied defensively. "They can't be forever wearing rags."
"True, but what about that bag of binder twine you brought in today, I'll bet that's not on the bill either."
"Well you need it to start cutting grain next week. It's a shame to charge everything to Alistair when I still have money in the bank."
"I thought I told you long ago that you were never to buy anything for the farm with your money," Marty said scornfully.
"It's our money," Ginny persisted. "I am your wife and these are our children. Speaking of the children, they'll all need shoes for the fall."
"We'll find a way to get shoes."
"It's not fair. I have money in the bank and you're sitting here counting pennies. I want you to have all of it. Here I'll write out a cheque."
Ginny went to the drawer where stationary and family business papers were kept. She pulled out a leather folder in which she kept her personal business and drew out her seldom-used chequebook.
"But I don't want your money," Marty protested.
"Marty Polsen, if you won't accept my money, I'll go out and personally pay off every debt we owe until it's all gone."
Marty could sense Ginny's determination. It never ceased to amaze him how, time after time, this selfless woman had slowly dwindled her once large bank account to look after everyone's welfare but her own. He was sure she had been paying some of the store bill on her own, as it never seemed to be as high as he thought it should be. Over the years he had consented to her buying household items such as dishes, kitchen utensils and bed sheets, and during the depression years necessities for the children. Never did she buy something for purely personal reasons, not one ornament of value, or non-functional piece of furniture. Everything she bought was for the benefit of the family as a whole.
An idea came to him about something Ginny had been longing for. She had mentioned it during a previous trip to River Bend. Finally he said, "How about just giving me half of your money for now? Carl's going to River Bend tomorrow, and I'm going along. There is a thing or two we need around here."
"Okay," Ginny said, agreeing to the compromise. She was surprised at how quickly he gave in on this one sensitive issue between them. Then she added as if to get the last word, "How about new shoes for the kids and you?"
"Just give me the sizes," Marty chuckled.
The following day, when he returned from River Bend, Marty announced to Ginny, with a mischievous grin, that he had a surprise for her. He made her go to the bedroom and wait behind a closed door while he and Carl brought the surprise into the house. Ginny waited anxiously in the bedroom. She had been suspicious of Marty's mood all day and wondered if he had some ulterior motive, because of the ease in which he accepted her offer of money. Then she heard piano music playing, the opening strains of Chopin's Etude No.3. Astonished at the sound of the music, which was one of her favourite pieces, she came out of the bedroom without waiting to be called. There before her in the living room stood a Gramophone with the record playing on it. Marty and Carl were standing beside it grinning broadly.
During an earlier trip to River Bend, Ginny had expressed a wish to own the gramophone she had seen in one of the stores. When Marty suggested that she buy it with some of her money, she scolded him, saying that her money was needed for much more important things.
"Where in heaven's name did you get that?"
"At River Bend," Marty laughed. "You always said that the one thing you missed most was classical music. So now you have it."
"But we can't afford a gramophone. Wait a minute, is that what you did with the money I gave you?"
Marty smirked.
"Marty Polsen, there's a depression on. We owe Alistair a fortune at the store, the kids need shoes, and you go out and buy a gramophone."
"It's time that some of your money got used on something that you want," Marty replied. "Don't worry, I got the shoes and included a pair for you. And we'll pay Alistair in good time."
"But I could have waited until things got better," Ginny protested.
"Now Ginny, the only other time you spent any of your money on something for yourself was when you bought that sewing machine. Even that was only so you could provide for the family with clothing and such. Now you have something purely for your sake."
"But . . . but . . . but.," Ginny said, still trying to find words to protest.
"No buts, sit down and enjoy. There are three other classical records inside."
"Sometimes even at da vorst of times, you have to take time out for some luxury," Carl added with his broad Swedish accent. "I bought Ingrid a new dress for da same reason, you vomen deserve someting for all dat you do around da place."
"Well thank you," Ginny said. She was touched by the gift, but still had to have the last word. "But I still think you could have spent the money more wisely. Imagine buying me a present with my own money."
"You wouldn't buy yourself one," Marty laughed. "Look at the other two records."
"Well, I'll accept the gift on one condition."
"What's that?" Marty asked.
"That you let me take the rest of the money and pay down the store bill and the taxes. Otherwise I'll give the gramophone to Alistair as payment on the bill," Ginny replied. She wore a determined look that suggested she was very serious.
Marty knew that look when Ginny was determined to stand her ground. She could very well trade Alistair the gramophone for payment on the grocery bill. Now that he had used some of her money for something she wanted, he decided he could swallow his pride and allow her to use her money to help alleviate their dire financial situation.
Still he stated, "You can pay the grocery bill because it is for the benefit of our children. But don't you dare buy anything for the farm, or for me personally."
"It's a deal," Ginny smiled.
"Once you do that though, we won't have a cent to our name," Marty reminded her.
"With you not letting me spend my money, we were already broke. Now we'll be broke honestly, and at least Alistair will have some money in his till."
With that Ginny sat and fished out the other three records from the holding area under the speaker. They were, another Chopin piece, a Mozart, and Ginny's all time favourite, Pachebel’s Cannon in D. She played all the records several times that evening before going to bed. The children were all anxious to play the gramophone, but Marty forbade them to ever touch it without Ginny's express permission.
The day Ginny paid down the grocery bill, she went to the store on her on her own so she could get a present for Marty. This included the pair of boots that he neglected to buy himself at River Bend. She presented the boots to him when he came in for supper.
"What are these for?" Marty said gruffly.
"You forgot to buy yourself boots when you went to River Bend that day, on purpose no doubt."
"I decided these boots would last for a while longer."
"Yeah, a very short while longer," Ginny scoffed. "Look at them."
Marty's boots were so worn that the leather at the toes was polished white and frayed. His big toe was threatening to pop through the top of the left one and the sole of the right boot was held on with bailing wire. The soles on both boots were so worn that he had to stuff them daily with newspaper or cardboard.
"I thought I told you not to buy anything for me," Marty grumbled.
"Well seeing how you decided to spend some of my money on some gramophone and shoes for me that I didn't ask for," Ginny said resolutely. "I decided to buy something for you."
"Well, I won't wear them till these are worn out," Marty said with a frown.
"Marty Polsen, you're going to be awfully glad I bought those boots. When you take those old ones off, I'm throwing them in the garbage."
"Oh is that so," Marty said as he looked again at the new boots. Noticing something inside one of them, he reached in and pulled out a packet of tobacco and a new pipe.
"What is this, Christmas?" he muttered.
When he looked up at Ginny, she grinned sheepishly at him.
"Come here," he frowned as he reached out a hand to her.
Ginny grabbed his hand and she cried out with a start as Marty pulled her down onto his knee.
Placing his arms around her, he said with a frown. "Sometimes I swear I don't know what I'm gonna do with you." Then after a moment he smiled and said, "Except maybe to try to love you even more than I do now."
Ginny threw her arms
around him and kissed him firmly on the lips.
Index About the Author Ginny – A Canadian Story of Love & Friendship Ingrid – An Immigrant’s Tale
Excerpt from Ingrid Anna Her Odyssey to Freedom Excerpt from Anna The Promise