Letting Go

My dad brought an ancient Gingko log into the backyard. It sprouted leaves every spring. Without any roots mind you, or branches, but somehow through capillary attraction it sucked up moisture from the soil and pushed forth a few fan shaped leaves. Dad never got around to carving it before he died, but it became one more thing the salvage guys carted out.

Tightwads by nature hold onto things. There’s even a technical term for it. Sunk cost fallacy. It’s the too small clothes kept in the hopes of losing enough weight. Odd bits of string. Scrap paper. Little stubby pencils that barely fit in the sharpener anymore. We invested capital in these things and by jingo we want our money’s worth.

Eventually it leads to clutter.

This may sound blasphemous. There comes a point when it’s not worth holding onto. Face facts. Granted, the pencil lead has a tad more life in, it but the eraser is shot. The new pencil erasers are drying up even before you get to use them. You won’t lose those 50 pounds. I’m sorry, it’s true, you won’t. And if you lived to be a hundred, you won’t need more scrap paper. Junk mail will always come to your mailbox, you’ll always have a fresh supply.

It has spiritual implications. We hold onto habits because they’re comfortable. We hold onto stuff as a buffer for the future. We don’t really believe God will provide when we need it, but have to stockpile to insure protection against every contingency.

The first step is to admit you have a problem. “Hello my name is______, and I’m a packrat”. The second is to realize you have sinned by seeking to control your world, and to admit you need God’s help to overcome fears and put sin to death.

Always More to Learn

I don’t know it all, or even most of it. Each person has their own perspective and skills. Each live out of their personal repertoire of frugal hacks. Maya Angelou said when an old person dies it’s like losing a library. I would never have learned how to make good pie crust if it weren’t for Millie. Or attempt brewing dandelion wine if it weren’t for the check out guy at Sharp Shopper. Or see how to tie a knot on the end of a thread to mend something if it weren’t for Grandma. Old people know stuff. If nothing else they know the stupid things to avoid. But they know tons of valuable stuff too. What to keep and what to let go of. So ask questions, listen, apply, and grow.

The flip side is this. Frugality is not all there is. Younger people know stuff too. Our first born remembers how to get places when I’m disoriented. He can program the phone, do things on the computer (more than one way and without fuss or freaking out), and work the TV remote. Both sons tell me to lighten up and get perspective. Their optimism is encouraging, their dreams possible. Sometimes they have fun at the expense of work. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not too bad, to just enjoy life.

There’s always more out there to observe and master. And when your life is over, you hope you’ve done the best with what you have, and passed the good stuff on to others.

Too Frugal

At what point does frugality become a moral issue? When is the line drawn by cultural norms, instead of actual “wrongness” or “rightness”?

I just had a rather interesting back and forth with a PF blogger. He thought cutting a dryer sheet in two or putting two good nylon legs from two pairs together when the other legs got runners to save money was "too frugal". I draw the line at “thou shalt not steal” This command actually covers a broad range, from doing your neighbor’s finances good, to seeking to better your own.

So if I ask for free samples only to receive something free, with no intention to consider purchase, that is harming my neighbor’s finances. If I put money in the bank to gain interest or use it to start a business or get an education, that is seeking my own financial benefit, but is not wrong.

Another is “thou shalt not murder” Any practice that shortens life, or decreases health is eliminated. So avoiding the dentist for 20 years or eating only jelly sandwiches to save money when you have the means, is out.

Current gray areas include dumpster diving, trash picking, gathering aluminum cans off the street. In these cases the command to “honor your mother and father” comes into play. It includes the rights of authorities to enact laws. So if a dumpster has a “keep out” sign, it’s locked, it’s on private property, or the local laws prohibit it, then don’t dive. In the realm of “equals” these practices become issues, if they cause a brother to stumble, encouraging him to sin against conscience. In those cases, don’t tell him, or do it in front of him.

To withhold what is due God is a moral issue. You shall have no other gods before Me. If in order to save money I don’t pay the tithe, that reveals a heart attitude. I am worshiping mammon and not God.

There’s a different set of constraints and freedoms if God’s law is used as a moral basis for frugality. A greater freedom to pick mulberries from a tree in a field to munch on, or take a needed chair from a pile on trash day.

One point. We may be able to say definitively something is morally wrong (any form of stealing or coveting) but there's a whole range of preferences. I know someone that "never bought anything at a yard sale" and never would. But if another mom didn't buy stuff at a yard sales/thrift shops her family would go without the basics. The one lady has the means to decide either way. The other doesn’t. This becomes an issue when it causes a brother to stumble, when we look down on the “poor” man as a moral failure or look up to the “rich” one as somehow morally superior. If someone wants to halve their dryer sheets or double up on nylons, why do I think it odd? We shouldn't make distinctions where Christ hasn't. And if we are aware of a situation, don't we have a greater obligation to share with those in need?

Sort of a Book Review Possum Living

You have to admit the name is intriguing. I first heard the title mentioned in a Philip Brewer article for Wisebread over a year ago. Philip looks at his dog-eared copy when he wants perspective. After a bit of searching I found the book in it’s entirety on line. Read only. Then our intrepid library ladies tracked down a copy through inter-library loan. It’s easier to peruse in hand but had to be returned. I wanted my own and checked our favorite used book sites, only to find it was outrageously expensive to purchase. Happily, it was reprinted just this year and is available for $12.95. My sister Lisa gave it to me as a Christmas gift. (Thanks Lisa!)

PL addresses basic questions, “What is enough?”, and “Is there a way to live outside the money economy?” I’ve puzzled over ways to integrate Dolly Freed’s experiences into our current situation, eliminating any ethically shady bits. (There are plenty.) Several major strategies remain. Maintain a large garden, cook from scratch, preserve, learn how to fix things by reading library books, forage, and be content. I suppose in a pinch I could learn to kill rabbits for meat. That certainly would be a learning curve for the kid who freaked when her fish swallowed a hook. But our cellar isn’t good for rabbit breeding or chicken nesting either, as it tends to flood in heavy rains. So gratefully, that’s not an option. And there are always beans.

Dolly and her dad were content to live in a fixed up house, basically off the land, and never go anywhere. If it were a treehouse in the woods as home base, maybe I’d agree. Washington state, or Britain or France even. But a treehouse, or a small bungalow among trees. Not suburbia. Not all the time.

Would I recommend it? Try interlibrary loan first. It may not be your cup of tea. For me it adds ideas to the stockpile. I have big dreams and limited means. The romance of cross country travel, silent stepping in pine forests, musty marsh smells, hawk calls, salty sea breezes, churning brooks, cool water rocks. All these sing their siren songs. How to get from here to there though, that is the question. And Possum Living may just offer some answers.