Thrift is an attractive idea until you get
down to specifics.
--Mason Cooley
If frugality were established in the state
and if our expenses were laid out to meet needs rather than the superfluities
of life, there might be fewer wants, and even fewer pleasures, but infinitely
greater happiness.
--Oliver Goldsmith
A penny saved is a penny earned.
--Benjamin Franklin
It is a great wealth to a soul to live
frugally with a contented mind.
--Lucretius (95-55 B.C.E.)
I have long had the reputation of being a
tad frugal. Occasionally the words
parsimonious, cheap, penny-pincher, stingy, thrifty, or even tightwad has been
applied to me. I admit to being careful,
practical, and prudent. One friend
remarked that “Cook is so tight he squeaks.”
I take all of the jibes with good
humor, secure in the knowledge that I am much sicker and more disturbed than
any one person knows.
For example, when forced to dine out, I
often eschew a tasty (read expensive) entrée I would really enjoy in favor of a
more economical beet salad which I do not like, but is half the price. I concede that a number of furniture pieces
that grace our humble home have been acquired on trash eve, albeit from some
very tasteful neighborhood curbs. It is
also true that much of my wardrobe comes from a certain open air establishment
where the proprietor is given to shouting to his clientele, “Anything on the
ground, one dollar!”
Our nation’s economy has deteriorated so
badly that after decades of being chided and mocked, my cheapskate sisters and
brethren are now being hailed for their thrift and are (gasp) being viewed as
role models. Granted this vindication
has not come from splashy front page articles in The New York Times, or the cover of People. But The American Interest, a real magazine (available
free online) recently decried the death of thrift as a value. Barbara Dafoe Whitehead, a professor at Rutgers University, states that for centuries
Americans were an industrious, ambitious, and frugal nation. She cites the thrifty Puritans, the words of founding
father Ben (“Waste not want not”) Franklin, the rush to buy war bonds, and even
the Frank Capra classic It’s A Wonderful Life, as examples of our saving ethic.
Whitehead believes -- and she speaks for a
think tank of sixty two leading economists -- that the social norms and values
that encouraged frugality and sensible spending have been overwhelmed by easy
credit and a false sense of entitlement.
Speaking bluntly, the chickens have come home to roost and there are not
enough of them for every pot. She is
critical of the Federal government for heaping massive debt on succeeding
generations. The members of her think tank
fear that we have forgotten the values of saving and of delayed gratification. We see as antiquated the notion of living
within our means.
The villains are the usual suspects:
advertisers, creating a demand for the next new thing; manufacturers, producing
for planned obsolescence; payday lenders offering fast cash at obscene interest
rates; and credit card companies that target the young and vulnerable. Whitehead also chastises state government run
lotteries (“a tax on stupidity”) which yield $60 billion a year but reinforce
the idea that something can be procured for nothing.
This gaggle of economists favors taxes on consumption
rather than income. They hope to raise
public consciousness about the dangers of usurious interest rates from too
available credit cards. Credit card companies
took in $937 billion in interest last year.
Debts like this contribute nothing to our economy and stymie useful
spending. Whitehead et al. advocate a
full out public health campaign aimed at raising awareness of both the financial
cost (bankruptcy) and the social costs (divorce, suicide) of abundant “free
credit.” They suggest educating the public about credit and debt in much the
same way that smoking and environmental issues have become part of our
consciousness.
Maybe saving has become the new splurging
and living within ones means is “in” again, but what has the recession done to
us miserly types? The hardcore still
have their money in Mason jars and continue to save even more by avoiding
dental visits for their toothaches. I am
not in the Silas Marner or Scrooge McDuck class of saver. I am the ant or the tortoise, depending on
the parable. I buy day-old bread, go to
garage sales and put my meager savings in “safe” investments. Needless to say, I am now no better off than
my grasshopper/hare neighbors. I am glad
that saving is back in vogue, but on reflection, I think I should have ordered
the poached salmon in béarnaise sauce.
Tom
H. Cook is a freelance writer and therefore practiced in the art of living on
less. He still remembers presenting his
blue savings passbook to the teller at the local bank with his $12.00 of
birthday money.
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