The other day I was thinking about my predilection for frugality. At times, I feel like I am outlier in a world of spendy people. I don’t mind being an oddball. I love being frugal. I like having just the right amount of stuff. It’s a relief to only have to maintain things I use and cherish. I shudder when I think of how I used to blow through money frivolously – especially when I was financing those purchases with credit card debt and home equity loans. I bought so much excess stuff that enslaved me to work trying to keep my head above water. My life changed for the better when I stepped off that treadmill, found minimalism and returned to my frugal ways when I was in my 40s.
I think my frugal nature started with my roots in Tamaqua. There were so many examples of people who lived frugal, but rich and complete lives.
Aunt Essie, Uncle Bob and Uncle Russ
My Aunt Es was a retired schoolteacher. She lived with her brother, Uncle Bob (a railroad worker), in the downstairs half of a duplex. In the upper half lived their brother, Uncle Russ (a retired railroad worker). Essie and Bob had never married. Russ’s wife and 3 children lived with him in his upstairs duplex until his children moved away and his wife passed away. The duplex had been their parent’s home.
Essie and Bob shared a car. The three siblings ate dinner together every evening. There was one shared washer and dryer for the home. The brothers did the maintenance on the furnace, the house and the cars. Russ did all of his own chores (except for making dinner).
I suspect all three contributed to pay taxes and utilities.
All three read the paper every evening. Bob and Russ belonged to the volunteer fire department and would hang out there once a week playing cards and drinking beer.
On pleasant evenings, they would sit on the front or back porches and socialize with our neighbors.
Essie had a pinochle card club that met weekly in someone’s home. She belonged to the town’s women’s club. She had lots of friends she’d see every week. She read all the time. She would crochet and knit. She walked everywhere. We’d go on long nature hikes in the woods. We’d walk “downtown” to buy groceries. We’d walk across town to meet with her friends.
Once in a while we’d eat out at one of the 3 family restaurants in town or go to Heisler’s or Leiby’s for ice cream. We’d go on vacations their sisters cabin on a creek in Reading. We’d visit state parks. We’d take road trips to Sunbury to have lunch with my other 2 Aunts who were nuns in a convent there.
The Betz’s
One of my best friend’s Richard lived a few doors up the street from me. His father worked at Sears. His mother was a homemaker. Bobby, his older brother worked at the market down the street when he wasn’t at school.
I thought the Betz’s were rich because they had a color TV, an art conditioner, and wood paneling in the living room. They had a basement full of board games that we played all the time.
I remember when Bobby went to college that Richard’s older sister Elaine got to “move up” into the attic.
It was around that time that Mr. Betz left Sears and the family purchased a small corner store in town. The entire family worked there. I remember many nights after the store was closed that Mr. Betz and his wife would sit at the kitchen table with Elaine (who was in school for accounting) going over the books and tallying the receipts for the business.
The Betz’s went on one vacation every summer to the beach. It must have been somewhere in the south, like Maryland,NC or SC because they would come home loaded up with fireworks for the 4th of July. Every 4th, they and our neighbors would shut down the entire alley and have a huge 4th of July celebration. Everyone brought food and drinks. Kids were there. Grandparents were there. Teens were there. It was the best celebration ever.
Katherine and Mary Hegarty were sisters who were Essie’s friends. They lived together in a home on the other side of town. I knew them from visiting them with Essie and from seeing them at Pinochle night. Sometimes, after an exhausting afternoon swimming at the Bungallo Pool, I’d drop in to see them on my walk home. They were my friends too – even though they must have been in their 70s while I was around 6 years old.
Years later, I learned the Hagerty’s father had the town blacksmith. His old shop is now a historic landmark. I’d pass his old shop when walking to the pool and would peer through the dusty windows at the ancient anvil and hammers.
Gramma and Grandpa
My Aunt Essie’s house was not only an upstairs/downstairs duplex, it was half of a side-by-side duplex. The other side was where my Grandparents lived. Gram was a retired telephone operator. Grandpa had retired from an industrial job and was the maintenance for our town’s local Catholic school.
They had 4 kids. The older two grew up and moved out – my mom and my uncle Bernie. The younger two kids moved in and out several times after graduating high school.
For fun, my Grandpa went to the bar every night and liked to watch football. My Gram talked on the phone, read, crocheted, watched game shows on TV and like to go shopping.
I remember my Grandpa building a full bathroom in the basement for Gram so that she didn’t have to walk up the stairs to the 2nd floor bathroom when she was older and her arthritis bothered her knees.
I know they occasionally went on vacation. Once they went all the way to California to visit Uncle Bernie.
I also think they really enjoyed being around me and my sister. We spent a lot of time with them.
Arlington Street
I remember neighbors would leave their car keys on the floor mats of their cars if they double parked on the narrow street so anyone could move the car if it was blocking traffic.
Parents rarely paid for babysitters. The street was full of kids racing from babies to teenagers. If you needed someone to watch your kid, a neighbor did it. And then you’d return the favor when they needed it.
Our summer highlights included getting Mr. Softee ice cream when he drove down the street after dinner, catching lightning bugs in jars, going to the park to watch free movies and buy penny candy, and playing “It tag” for hours and hours.
Other than a few quarters for ice cream and candy or running to the market for something, I can’t remember ever needing money.
We shopped at Johnny’s market down the street for produce, milk and bread. The market was downstairs. Johnny and his family lived in an apartment above the market.
We shopped at Raymond’s for cigarettes, ice cream, and candy. Raymond’s storefront was in the front room of his mother’s house. Raymond worked the store with his mother. They lived in the back in a apartment. When you went into Raymond’s a bell would ring and his mother would often apple through the beaded curtain that separated her living room from the storefront.
We also shopped at the butcher shop for sandwich spread and sausages, Paperman’s Deli for cheese and deli meat and the baker’s for fresh Italian bread. Like Raymonds, all of these little one man stores were located in the front room and the owners lived in apartments behind or above them.
In summers, the farmer would drive down the street twice a week and ring everyone’s doorbell while shouting “Farmer!” He sold corn, tomatoes, eggs and other produced he grew on the farm. He drove a pickup truck that looked like it was 100 years old, like he looked. But both the Farmer and his truck were tough as nails.
Milk came from the milkman and was dropped off in insulated boxes on our porches.
If I had to guess, none of these people ever made much money. I don’t recall any of them ever talking about money either. They always seemed to have enough to buy me an ice cream and pay for their shopping. They were all quite generous with their money, their time and their love.
I remember every single one of them spending time with me (and many other kids). I remember getting treats from them and Christmas and birthday gifts. I remember seeing them drive the same car for decades, mend old clothes, use tools that were inherited from their parents, and take care of their families, their community, their friends and their businesses.
No wonder I want to be like them.