Only now am I beginning to understand my parents’ generation.

My parents were born in the 1950s, which means their childhood, youth, and family-building years unfolded alongside some of the most difficult economic periods in Philippine history. Looking at the timeline of what the country was going through helps me understand why their attitudes toward money, food, and resilience were shaped the way they were.

When they were children: the 1960s

When they were kids in the 1960s, the Philippines was still carrying the long shadow of post-war rebuilding. Many families lived simply, often on a single income, and resources were limited. Jobs were hard-earned, luxuries were rare, and children were raised to value every peso.

This was likely where their instinct to save things, avoid waste, and make do with what was available first took root. Scarcity was not a lesson from books—it was everyday life.

When they were young adults: the 1969 peso crisis

By the time they were entering adulthood in the late 1960s, the country was hit by the 1969 balance-of-payments crisis, which led to a sharp peso devaluation and rising prices.

Imagine being in your late teens or early twenties, just beginning to dream about work, marriage, or helping your family, and suddenly everything becomes more expensive.

Now I understand why people from their generation often hold tightly to moments of comfort when money comes in. What may look like being a “one-day millionaire” can actually be the emotional aftermath of growing up in uncertainty. When life teaches you that abundance can disappear quickly, spending on family, food, or long-delayed wants can feel less like carelessness and more like reclaiming joy.

When they were building their future: the 1970s oil shocks

In the 1970s, when they were in their twenties and likely beginning careers or raising young families, the world was hit by the 1973 and 1979 oil crises.

Fuel prices surged, transportation became expensive, electricity costs rose, and food prices followed. For an import-dependent country like the Philippines, this would have made daily life even harder.

This also helps me understand why food became sacred in their household values.

When they say, “Life is hard. Eat what is on the table,” those words come from a generation that lived through years when food choices were a luxury. For them, what is served is not just a meal–it is proof that the family made it through another difficult day.

Their words carry the memory of years when there may have been little choice, little excess, and no guarantee of tomorrow’s meal.

When they were raising families: the 1983–1985 recession

By the time they were in their early thirties, the Philippines entered one of its worst recessions from 1983 to 1985.

Inflation surged, jobs became unstable, and the peso weakened again. If they were already raising children by then, the pressure must have been enormous: school expenses, food, transportation, and the constant fear of not having enough.

This period may explain why they became deeply resilient.

Their strength was not accidental. It was built during years when they had to endure instability, stretch limited resources, and keep moving forward despite uncertainty.

Why I understand them now

Looking at the decades they lived through, I finally understand why they became who they are.

Their relationship with money was shaped by repeated cycles of lack and recovery. Their respect for food came from remembering what it felt like to have little. Their toughness came from surviving years when the country itself was struggling.

So when I see habits that once confused me–spending generously when money arrives, insisting we finish what is on the table, staying emotionally strong through hardship—I no longer see contradiction.

I see history.

I see a generation raised by scarcity, molded by national crises, and strengthened by survival.

And perhaps the greatest thing they passed on was not fear of hardship, but the quiet confidence that even after living through “nothing,” they still found a way to endure until the very end.