Even during the rationing period, during World War II, we didn't
Even during the rationing period, during World War II, we didn't have the anxiety that we'd starve, because we grew our own potatoes, you know? And our own hogs, and our own cows and stuff, you know.
The great actor and son of the soil, James Earl Jones, once recalled with the clarity of lived memory: “Even during the rationing period, during World War II, we didn’t have the anxiety that we’d starve, because we grew our own potatoes, you know? And our own hogs, and our own cows and stuff, you know.” In this simple reflection lies a truth that reaches across generations: security is not found in abundance alone, but in the strength of self-reliance, community, and the earth’s provision.
The rationing period of World War II was a time of great sacrifice. Nations at war directed their factories, their farms, their resources to the frontlines, and ordinary families were called to endure shortages at home. Sugar, meat, gasoline, and countless goods were limited, purchased with ration stamps instead of coin. Anxiety gripped many hearts. Yet for Jones and his family, there was peace amidst the storm, for their hands tilled the soil, and their fields and barns provided what the ration books could not.
The potatoes, the hogs, the cows—these were not luxuries, but anchors of stability. They represent the eternal rhythm between man and earth, between labor and sustenance. In the midst of global conflict, when ships sank and cities burned, the ground beneath their feet still yielded food. It was this connection to the land, this practical independence, that freed them from the gnawing fear of hunger. And so Jones teaches us that resilience is not born of wealth, but of the ability to provide, to endure, to live in harmony with the soil.
History itself echoes this wisdom. In Britain, during those same years, the government launched the “Dig for Victory” campaign, urging every citizen to transform gardens, schoolyards, even public parks into fields of food. Potatoes, carrots, and cabbages grew where flowers once stood. It was not grandeur that sustained the nation, but humble vegetables grown by ordinary hands. Through this effort, Britain avoided starvation despite the U-boat blockade. Thus, Jones’s memory reflects a universal truth: in times of crisis, self-reliance and community effort can turn despair into survival.
Yet there is also a deeper lesson here. The modern world, with its supermarkets and global supply chains, often forgets how fragile abundance can be. We live far from the sources of our food, and so we live closer to anxiety. But those who remain connected to the land, who know how to plant, how to tend, how to raise, live with a kind of strength that no market crash or supply shortage can easily shake. Jones’s words remind us that true wealth lies not in coins but in skills, not in stores but in soil.
For us today, the teaching is both practical and spiritual. Learn to grow something with your own hands, even if only a small garden. Teach your children where their food comes from, so that they know gratitude rather than entitlement. Value simplicity, for in simplicity lies freedom. And in times of abundance, remember to prepare, for the earth always provides to those who know how to work with it.
Therefore, let this wisdom endure: in every age, hardship comes, and fear of want arises. But those who, like Jones’s family, hold fast to the earth, who plant and tend, who raise and nurture, find strength against the storm. The rationing period is long past, yet its lesson remains: self-reliance, community, and harmony with the land are shields against despair. Let us honor that truth, and live not in constant anxiety, but in gratitude for what our hands and the soil together can bring forth.
ZZen
James Earl Jones’ recollection of self-sufficiency during the war is a powerful reminder of how much dependence we’ve developed on external systems. While modern conveniences are a blessing, I wonder if we’ve also lost some important skills. Would we be able to survive a global crisis if our food systems broke down? Could a resurgence of local farming and personal food production bring back a sense of control and stability in times of uncertainty?
STPhu mon sinh Tran
Jones’ reflection on growing your own food during wartime really highlights the security and peace of mind that comes with knowing how to sustain yourself. I wonder if this could be a way to address modern anxieties about food insecurity. Could teaching more people how to grow their own food or raise animals help create a sense of security in today's uncertain world? What would that shift look like for our society?
SBSon Ba
I find Jones' memory of self-sufficiency during World War II quite poignant. In a time of rationing and uncertainty, people knew they could count on what they produced themselves. It makes me wonder—if our food systems were disrupted today, how many of us could rely on our own resources? Would we be able to cope as well as past generations did? And if not, what steps could we take to rebuild that level of independence?
MLMy Le
The idea of growing your own food and raising livestock during rationing seems like a reflection of a simpler, more connected way of life. There’s a certain peace of mind that comes with knowing you can provide for yourself. But is this sustainable for everyone in today's world, where people are less connected to rural farming? How can we promote more self-sufficiency in urban areas where many people rely heavily on store-bought goods?
KKKa Ka
James Earl Jones brings up an interesting point about self-sufficiency during a time of crisis. It’s fascinating how growing your own food could bring a sense of security even during wartime rationing. Today, many of us are so disconnected from where our food comes from. Do you think we’ve lost some of that sense of self-reliance in modern times? Could something like that be an antidote to the anxiety and uncertainty we face today?