Why I am Not aTightwad

Back when I was a young mother, “The Tightwad Gazette” was a hit among our circle of friends. Most of us were under thirty, in first-time jobs, starting families and households. We loved Amy! We needed this kind of advice, and for people my age (now over fifty) it helped us feel normal as frugal people, and not like paupers when we compared ourselves to the consumer culture spreading through our society like an influenza virus. Amy and her family lived in Maine, like our little group, and many of us shared the same conditions and challenges her family had.

via Amazon.com

We learned to make our own granola, bake our own bread, darn socks, clean with baking soda and vinegar, establish car pools for work and playgroup, refinish furniture and power-shop garage sales and thrift stores. We used it up and wore it out, made it do or did without. I admit: My mother and grandmother taught me most of this, but it was new to the people who had moved to almost rural Maine in the late sixties and early seventies, looking for a quieter, healthier way of life. Amy helped them find it, as they had left a suburban and urban world that was rapidly evolving into the greedy, status-hungry mess we now see.

Amy and her frugal companions never advocated harming your family by neglecting nutrition, good sanitation or medical care. They advocated giving gifts and helping others. They did not mean “tightwad” as in miser; it was a humourous play on how others characterized them when they saved buttons and zippers from old clothes that they then made into patchwork quilts or diapers. They weren’t hoarders. If you want you can find photos and interviews on video with Amy at her home. It is spare and clean. Her collections of reusable items are well organized.

But times have changed. And this is why I am not a tightwad. We are just poor. I do employ those old ways of keeping body and soul together; I have food in the house at all times because I have a supply of dried foodstuffs in the pantry – beans and lentils, flour and cracked wheat, potatoes, onions, carrots, turnips I bought in quantity, which should last us at least a couple of months. We have firewood, and we installed a woodstove because we could not afford to heat with oil or electricity, which were the existing systems in the house. Our reasoning was that it is cheaper here; seasoned firewood is available from our landlord; and in the worst case, we can scavenge wood, which we can’t do with oil, electricity or propane.

Back when I was a young householder, it was possible to buy or rent a big old house in rural Maine with barns and sheds, acres of land, and maybe a woodlot. A couple of Jotul stoves and a big garden  later, you were good to go. This isn’t possible now. The houses are older and losing condition if they weren’t renovated 30 years ago. Woodburning stoves are expensive and old ones are no longer acceptable to insurance companies. For someone without a woodlot, cords of wood in an area where there is high demand can run as much as oil overall.

Many of us have to look at living in smaller houses, and even micro-homes, less than 500 square feet. Ours is less than a thousand, but since we use only four rooms principally, we use about 700 square feet of living space.

This is why I can’t be the classic tightwad, and I’m not sure I am inclined in that direction. We can’t afford the space to store all the bits and bobs to be re-used; we can’t trawl the thrift store and garage sales for items to be stored for later. All my extra fabric, notions, items for resale and out of season coats have to be stored in a dresser and one closet. In a micro-home, there would be even less room, and it makes no sense at all to rent a storage locker for $25-$100 a month to store items that could be purchased new for less. I’ve seen what happens when people with a tiny home start to store those things – the vintage finds for resale (that don’t get sold); the bags and boxes of extra clothing the children outgrew and haven’t yet grown into; the hardware, kitchenware, linen, toys, appliances, and even lumber for the house that is not yet built, and can’t be built until the two acres is cleared of sheds, old trucks in various stages of cannibalism, piles of scrap metal to sell, and firewood to cut and split.

I limit the saving. I don’t stock up unless I am certain I can use it within its lifespan. I am the opposite of a hoarder – I get rid of things when they have not been used. I find this is the only way to live in a small house without getting overwhelmed.

There is still plenty to be learned from Amy and the tightwads of my generation. But I think we are all going to have to look at the reality of downsizing – of consuming less – of turning old things into new things by recycling rather than storing for later. So if you have trash bags full of old detergent bottles for the Scouts to turn into bird feeders, well, just go ahead and take them to the recycling center. It’s time.


5 thoughts on “Why I am Not aTightwad

  1. One reason I love your posts, MJ, is that we are so close in age (by 6 months) and also because we both sort of grew up in the same area (Metro DC); we tend to share many similar experiences. I subscribed to the Tightwad Gazette when a young woman and it was up there with the gospel. I just never knew where she got the energy.

    And now, like you, I live in a small-ish place and can’t give “real estate” to flea market, yard sale or thrift shop finds. I almost think that’s just not a part of my life stage now. Like you, I find myself jettisoning stuff that I once gave place to. Having less income (I don’t and refuse to refer to my life station as “poor” because I have a wealth not of things) makes it more imperative to really THINK about the role of our “stuff” and I’ve seen more and more as time goes along that it’s all just a nuisance. LOL!!!

    Thanks for this trip down memory lane and your thoughts about how frugality translates into today. I’m constantly telling the hubster (who is an absolutely chronic “storer”) to use it or find someone who will. There’s an old-fashioned word “stewardship” that comes into this that you tagged this with. It’s gonna come round and be fashionable again as we all have to re-examine “downsizing” which I think of as RIGHT-sizing.

    • I didn’t move down to the DC area until I was in my twenties; I actually grew up in northern Maine, not far from where I live now. My husband and I are of the same mind about keeping things. We both suffered in previous relationships with partners who were hoarders, and “suffer” is not an exaggeration.

  2. Magdalena,

    A Fantastic post! As the virus of greed is reaching its terminal stage, we all need to take a good hard look (myself included) Here are three links of interest that chime in with the sentiments of this entry.




    Please excuse my banging on about the same old, same old, but it has genuine potential. Rather than being a middle class, idle, late-sipping load of codswallop, these principles can truly help, in my thinking.



    • I look back on my upbringing, and see that attitudes changed from about 1960-1980. My family’s “virtues” were thrift and fortitude, and by the time my younger sisters were in university and in the world, their attitudes were more of seeking creature comforts and success. They consider me madly naive, and even a bit dangerous because of that, but I don’t lie awake nights worrying about how we are going to buy a bigger house, or afford a vacation or trade up our cars. I don’t have to worry about having fashionable clothes or if we can have a night ont he town. We are past doing those things!

  3. Magdalena,

    You ar not alone in identifying the two-decade window of 1960-1980 *with particular emphasis on the era from around 1965-1975) as a pivotal turning point in community attitudes away from an outlook that valued others, put family first, valued relationships over things to one in which self became centre, the ‘me’ choice became an inviolable human right and feeling good became essential to seek after, whether through luxuries, large homes, high-end vehicles or via countless other bits and pieces employed to more often than not fill the ‘god slot’ in our neurology. More frighteningly, huge swathes of Christianity became enamoured with the notion of ‘Prosperity Gospel’ which, tragically, is still largely the case today.yes, greed and egocentrism have always been with us, but since the self/feminist/sexual revolutions of the 60’s and 70’s, what is good is termed by the world, and most of the church as evil, and what is evil winds up being championed by these self same groups as good. Camels and eyes of needles anybody?

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