In 1929, my parents were 13 years old. I’m sure they didn’t have any idea what caused the sudden downturn in the economy at the end of that year.

Neither of my grandfathers lost their jobs, but I know that there were small fortunes lost. My Kelley grandfather, the owner of a hardware and furniture store, had to make ends meet with seven kids while extending credit to almost every customer. For the parents, it was a difficult time.

Since six of the Kelley kids were girls, and the oldest four were teenagers, Mary Kelley decided that she could provide a place for her daughters to have fun while also keeping an eye on the many boys who liked to hang around. On a Friday night after a football game or just for fun, boys would show up in droves at the Kelley’s little Craftsman house on West Steele Street. Mary put them to work rolling up the carpet in the big living/dining room, and the heavy, ornate table was pushed against the wall. In the kitchen she filled big platters with simple sandwiches for the hungry teens. A hand-cranked Victrola, and plenty of records kept the mood merry.

One of the young men who frequented the house was a guy named Emmett Murphy. Little did he know that many years later, on his 29th birthday, he would marry Rita, the third Kelley daughter, and eventually become my dad.

Mom’s younger brother Walt often told me that Emmett was the only one of the older guys who acknowledged the little kids. They all said it was the best of times.

My husband, Lenny, and I have been tip-toeing around the fact that our savings have been circling the drain with each new day. He says our 401K is now a 101K. We may have to drop the word “retirement” from our vocabulary altogether. Good bye to plans for leisurely trips abroad. Farewell to our dreams of lazy days spent gardening and hanging out with our imaginary grandchildren.

None of this was our fault, we did nothing wrong, and there is not a lot we can do about it. Even our most responsible decisions were affected by other’s greed and deception, and almost everyone we know is in the same boat. But maybe we need to change our dreams. We don’t need to get on a plane to have fun. I think we should follow Mary Kelley’s example: make sandwiches, push back the furniture, roll up the rugs and dance. Maybe, just maybe, it will be the best of times.