I grew up in a small town in Ontario in the 1950s and 1960s. It was a much simpler time. We were not rich, but we had a good life. I had wonderful parents, and a brother and a sister and many friends to play with. We had a good-sized house on a triple lot. One of the three big lots was entirely devoted to a huge garden. We had a chicken coop with chickens to provide fresh eggs (and the occasional chicken dinner if one of the hens became troublesome). My father worked long hours and then often spent evenings working in the garden. He was a good provider. We ate well. My mother was an excellent cook, providing three nutritious meals a day prepared on an old-fashioned wood and gas range. Every Saturday, and sometimes in between, she would bake pies, cakes, and cookies.
Our semi-rural lifestyle meant that there were many chores to do. Among other plants in our garden, we had a row of raspberry plants running the entire length of our garden and several rows of strawberries. In the summer, my mother would herd her three children out into the garden. In one day, we could pick thirty pints of raspberries or thirty quarts of raspberries, and the next day my mother would can the whole lot or turn it into jam—and the day after that we would start the process all over again.
In addition, we spent long hours weeding the garden. We had to bring wood from the woodshed into the back porch to feed the stove. We would also mow the massive lawn, collect eggs, rake leaves, and shovel snow.
I look back on those years with fondness now. I did not particularly enjoy some of those chores, especially the drudgery of weeding the strawberry rows by hand. But my brother and my sister and I learned how to work, which prepared us for successful working lives. We could not complain too loudly back then because we were aware that our parents worked a lot harder than we did. They set the standard for us. We were also aware that all of this was necessary. There were no supermarkets in those days, only a small corner store. If we wanted to eat well, we had to grow a lot of our own food.
Most children today live in apartments or condos or townhouses. They have automatic washers and dryers and dishwashers and microwaves and air fryers and vacuum cleaners. There are few opportunities to get exercise outside and few chores that need doing.
Recently, I was talking to a single mother, a professional woman with a very busy schedule. She apologized for making her children do chores, including some rudimentary cooking, because she just didn’t have enough time.
I assured her that she was not guilty of child abuse or exploiting child labor. I said that she was not burdening her children with chores, whatever they might think about it. On the contrary, I told her that she was giving them the privilege of learning to work. She was giving them the opportunity to contribute and the satisfaction of being useful and helpful. She was training her children and preparing them for life. In short, she was being a good parent.
