BY: TIM WATTS
When I was a boy, my Dad would sit in his chair, wood-stove crackling, corn cob pipe in mouth, needle, thread, darning egg, sock in hand. His motions were fluid, methodical, contentment his companion. Eventually, Mom would look up from her knitting and say, “Allan don’t be so cheap! Why don’t you throw those old socks away and buy new ones. No one darns socks anymore!” Oh boy! Here they go again! Mom calling Dad an old fashioned cheapskate and Dad droning on about frugality, our ethical responsibly to use things until they have returned to their original elemental state. This scene played out in the town of Easton where I grew up in the late 1960’s, early 70’s. It was a time of change. Farms falling by the wayside, houses going up, small independent markets disappearing. Clotheslines, veggie patches, fruit trees, common sights in many yards faded, were traded for a “better way”. A clothesline might mean you couldn't afford an electric dryer. A veggie patch that you couldn't afford to eat otherwise. An ethic, the ethic of frugality had become something to reflect on with a polite chuckle all the while stepping “forward”.
Recently I was telling a friend about my Dads darning. She laughed and said that she also darns socks. We talked about these old ways. About the ethic of frugality. Her families roots go back to a village in Palestine. Mine to a village in Massachusetts. Despite the miles, despite the cultural, religious and language differences, we, our parents, our grandparents shared a common thread. An ethic, the ethic of frugality.
It occurred to me then that frugality could be a connective, collective common thread, a useful tool for a fresh discourse? Most anyone anywhere that successfully manages anything anywhere embraces frugality even if they don’t use the word itself. Whatever their political leanings may be they have in common frugality. Liberalism, Conservatism, 2022, angry faces, fingers pointing, fists pounding, voices screaming, could promoting and adopting frugalism open space for folks of varying stripes?
What frugality brings to the table is thoughtfulness, a shift in tempo. Though my Dad has long since passed I can still see his face, hear his voice. “Timothy, please count to ten before acting! If what you're about to say or do still feels right then go forward. If not, please don’t.”
My job on campus is collecting recycling and composting. As a campus community and as a culture we waste much! We communicate poorly! Perhaps it’s time for a collective ten count? A dip of the toes into frugalism? Does the empty box go in this bin or that? Are the words we are about to speak healing in nature or harmful? There is much at stake!
Father Sky above. Mother Earth beneath our feet. Our collective Mother, their child, Mother Nature, wincing at our bit, bleeding from our lashes. What shall we do?
Tim Watts is a custodian that takes care of recycling and composting here at Stonehill.
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