Good ol’ Hamlet
cynically excuses his mother for her marrying his uncle in a month after his
father’s death. Her quick marriage was
all in the name of economy. The left
over roasts served at the funeral dinner made for good cold cuts at the wedding
reception.
Thus an early
reference (by Shakespeare, no less) to the Scandinavian reputation for being
tight. However, I think my own “economy”
came more from the non-Scandinavian side of my heritage, from my maternal
grandfather.
I remember him sitting
in the chair by the south doorway, where a disabling stroke landed him. Within his reach were ashtray, matches,
blanket, and a rope-and-pulley device he was supposed to use to rehabilitate his
arm that was paralyzed by the stroke.
Mostly, he tended
his cigar. One cigar lasted him a long
time. When it went out, he would relight
it. When I visited, he would ask me to
reposition his ashtray. When I got it
where he wanted it, he would say, “That’s the stuff, son.” (That same ashtray still stands in the
farmhouse basement.)
He would relight
and smoke his cigar until it was too short to hold between finger and
thumb. Then, he would stick a toothpick
into the butt and smoke it down to a nub.
If you don’t consider the number of matches he used, there wasn’t much
waste there.
I seem to have
inherited his thrifty habits. Someone
near and dear to me usually says I am “cheap”, sometimes changing that to “thrifty”
when are among lesser-known acquaintances, when she is trying to put a good
face on things.
In my singing
hobby, we sometimes are required to download and print copies of music. (Supposedly, we have paid the fee to make the
copies, thus staying within the bounds of copyright laws.) I always print front and back of the page. Many other fellows simply print one side,
avoiding the hassle of printing front and back, but using twice as many pages.
Once while
rehearsing with my quartet, I shared my copy of the music with a fellow
singer. He turned the page, searched for
the continuation from the first page, and realized page two was on the back of
page one. He remarked about the use of
both sides of the page.
In reply, I was
tempted to say something about saving a tree for tomorrow. Instead, I shared with him Grandad’s using a
toothpick to get the most out of his cigar.
I explained I was by nature, thrifty.
At the time, I
was still driving the old Dakota pickup with its six feet of glass pack muffler
that didn’t do a lot of muffling. The
boys said they always knew when I was coming because they could hear me a mile
off. They gently suggested I should look
for a new pickup.
I protested that
the old gal still ran great, even if it was a little loud and looked pretty
sad. Ted said, “Yeah, you have a lot of
toothpicks left in your box, don’t you?”
I laughed
heartily. When you tell someone
something, you never know if they are truly listening. I knew Ted heard my Grandad story and had
taken it to heart.
Yes, I still have
a lot of toothpicks in my box.
Once, a nun’s
siblings noticed how sincerely she had taken her vows of poverty, as her robes
were threadbare and patched. They
decided to go together and buy her new clothes.
They were surprised some time later when they found her wearing the same
old clothes while the new outfit hung in her closet. By way of explanation, the sister told her
siblings, “Old habits are hard to change.”
I concur.
No comments:
Post a Comment