During these tough economic times, the word "depression" is being tossed around a lot. Some supposed experts say we’re already in one; others say it’s still ahead of us.

I can tell you from experience that we’re not in a depression yet, not like the one I grew up in during the 1930s, anyway. I might not know the stock market from the meat market, but I’m willing to go out on a limb and propose we refer to today’s situation as a "depression in training."

People are worried and scared, of course, but I haven’t heard of anyone jumping out of skyscraper windows yet or selling apples on the street corner or riding the rails in a boxcar and hopping off to beg for food at the back door of a house near the tracks.

If it’s still ahead of us and actually does turn out to be Great Depression II, here are some suggestions to help you through it based on my memories of living through the original. These suggestions would probably be more helpful to city people than farm folks, who know how to live off the land. How many city people know how to butcher a cow - even if they did succeed in raising one in the basement?

For starters, vacations will be a perk of the past. When you can’t even afford to go to Wal-Mart, you certainly can’t afford to go on vacation. Your car will be up on blocks, anyway, because you won’t have money for gas.

Eating out is over, too. You’ll be lucky to put food on your own table, so the days of ordering fine wine and prime rib are behind you. After living high on the hog all these years, it’s gonna be quite a shock to find yourself down around the hocks. If you’re lucky enough to know a butcher, maybe you can talk him into putting a nice rump roast on layaway for you.

Hope you like beans, beans, the musical fruit, because you’re gonna be eating a lot of ’em … toot toot. Those lovable legumes are cheap and filling. But limit your intake to prevent chronic starch bloat.

Also, you won’t throw leftovers to the dog anymore because there won’t be any. Toss him a bare bone maybe, but that’s it. Put the mutt outside to forage for himself.

You won’t be visiting the beauty salon or fancy barber every week, either. Women will have to learn to fix each other’s hair, and men will have to look long and hard to find a shave and a haircut for two bits. Kids might as well get used to haircuts in the kitchen by Mom. And they’d better not cry when they look in the mirror, or they won’t get any beans for dessert.

To cut down on the electric bill, hang the laundry outside instead of using the dryer. If you live in an area where hanging out the wash is not allowed, string a clothesline through the house and dry the stuff inside. Jeans and sweatshirts might take a couple of days, but times are tough. Stop whining and buy some clothespins.

Boys are going to have to learn how to play marbles and build model airplanes because Game Boys and iPods will become extinct, perhaps one of the only good things to result from this financial disaster.

Forget Barbie and her expensive wardrobe. Girls will have to play pretend "mama" with baby dolls again or play dress-up in Mom’s old clothes instead of keeping cell phones attached to their ears. In fact, it’s likely there won’t be a phone of any kind in the house to run up another bill. Difficult times call for difficult sacrifices.

Get used to wearing hand-me-downs, although once a year each child will probably get a set of new school clothes, including underwear and a pair of shoes. If they’re still being sold, rubber half-soles can be glued to worn-out shoes to make them last longer. The darn things never wear out, but they do come unglued and make you trip. Ladies, learn to darn socks, nearly a lost art in our throwaway society.

Sorry, no more air conditioning. In fact, a funeral parlor fan might be your only method of keeping cool, and those oil lamps with wicks you’ve been using as home décor might have to be put to their intended use when your electricity is turned off for nonpayment. Reading and studying by lamplight is a strain on the eyes, all right, but if it was good enough for Abe Lincoln, it’s good enough for you.

Learn how to make a mustard plaster, a mixture of goose grease, dry mustard and Vicks VapoRub slathered between two pieces of flannel and slapped on your chest. It was my mother’s remedy for anything that hurt from the forehead down. Just inhaling the fumes could cure warts.

Hopefully, these tips from one who has been there will help in the event such a fiduciary catastrophe happens again. It’s best to be prepared, so start hoarding beans and lamp oil, and you’ll probably get through it.

Unfortunately, there is no medicine - not even a mustard plaster - to help an ailing spirit when the bottom drops out of the world as you know it. Cussing the government won’t help, either … but it’ll sure as hell make you feel better.

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