On my mothers side, both my grandparents immigrated from the Netherlands in the 1950's. My opa served in WW2 in the Dutch navy and both lived under the Nazi regime. Although very close to each other geographically they lived much different lives under Nazi control. My opa barely scraped by, while my oma lived in relative luxury. As the oldest son in 9 children, he stole, begged, and fought for food to feed the family. He says that there is never a time when survival is so present in your mind when there's nothing in your stomach. My mother and her brothers and sisters also tell stories of how it affected them growing up. My opa, having survived a famine in his childhood and forever scarred by the experience, would hoard food like a frightened squirrel. My mother would find stashes of rotten fruit hidden in the house, because they weren't allowed to eat such a luxury. It's better though, than it was... he had 8 children and retired before 60, largely due to his ability to hoard money like he would hoard food. His strength is something that still inspires me.
My oma on the other hand lived a different life because her father, my great-opa was an ingenius man who made a fortune through the purchase and sale of land in the early 1900's. His fortune was largely taken from him during Nazi control, but he retained a large portion of luxury in his life simply by his ability to take a shitty situation and make the best out of it. He was always very generous with his things, something he passed along to his daughter, my oma, and something my opa still cringes at. There were certain limitations imposed by the Germans during their control, for example you were only allowed a certain number of chickens. As the Nazi soldiers would come to check that people were within their limits, and confiscate the supplies of those who weren't, my Oma remembers binding the beaks of their extra chickens, putting them into a sack and tossing the poor mute chickens over the fence and into the neighbours waiting hands. Once the soldiers were finished searching their house, the sacks of chickens would come flying back. Similar limitations would be imposed on things like corn meal, and my great uncles would climb trees to tie camouflaged sacks of corn meal away from prying soldiers eyes. Stories like these make me really proud of where I came from.