Making do

How to be a string-savin' cheap Yankee bastid

by Sally Cragin

Illustration by Lennie Peterson

Cheapness in Tritown celebrates many forms. Most lifelong Tritownies think nothing of eating bologna-end sandwiches, yet they still give generously to a good cause. (A fine example'd be the time all the checks in the Sunday collection plate at All Faiths, Tritown's resident tabernacle of creeds, had holes in the corner from everyone trying to jump-start the cheap ballpoints they'd picked up for free at the local Subaru/ Winksta dealership: "Our 15th Year Driving You Around.") When everyone else was equipped with blue PVC buckets for separating glass and plastic, paper and aluminum, Tritown, for once, was ahead of the game. Bossycow Farms yogurt and cottage cheese may not burp as crisply as Tupperware, but as long as you keep them out of the dishwasher (and who'd admit to using one of them?), they're good enough. And with modest care taken to unwrap the cellophane off the iceburg lettuce, you'll never have to waste Saran Wrap on the kids' half-nibbled PB&J.

Whenever he encounters a particularly conspicuous new example of thrift, Hollis the Mountain Man reopens what he calls the "string- savin' cheap Yankee bastid" contest. This time, Delia Ellis Bell the Partial Yankee (there was a questionable great-great-grandmother) had held the early lead. Her instincts at the Bargain Notions Center for remnants and bolt-ends are such that she will happily buy both designer treasures and the most hideous mistakes and mis-stitchings of the textile world (wide-wale orange corduroy, chartreuse Ultrasuede). But only, only on markdown. And her cheapness doesn't end there. A wiz at her grandmother's Singer, she has transformed this cloth into holiday presents for her circle: usually ties for the men, vests for the women. The ties, though arguably tasteful, run narrow (so she gets extra), and the vests have suspiciously large armholes. "I'm seamstressed out," she announces on December 26.

Of course, Hollis's great-aunt Winnie (named for Lake Winnipesaukee, though she can't swim) could be a gold medallist too. At holiday time, Hollis has been known to wrap presents in aluminum foil and the colorful plastic twisties from old Tritown Bugle rain-liners, but Winnie has been recycling paper and bows for years. It can take her 20 minutes to tease off the Scotch tape, stick-on bows, and gilt paper from the gifts she receives -- and it ain't because of her arthritis. "Aluminum's too expensive to waste on presents," Winnie scoffs, and she's got a drawerful of shimmery scraps to reuse. Hollis has personally received a baked potato on three separate occasions from the same piece of foil (easy to notice, because it was inscribed in laundry marker: "Banana Bread").

"Do not ask for whom the cheapness bell tolls," intones Delia one afternoon at Happy's Coffee & Qwik-Stop (30 kinds of doughnuts, 20 kinds of lottery tickets, one kind of coffee) after hearing Hollis opine at length. "It tolls for thee, Mr. Restaurant-butter-pats-in-the-fridge."

He folds his arms, bulky in pre-winter layers (the choicest from the Salvation Army spring-thaw sale), and sets his jaw. "Delia, you know that in the budget battle, your discus of discounts lands farthest!"

Delia's jaw drops, and her eyelids narrow. "Hollis that is a really fabulous use of imagery, but you're completely full of it. Do I live under a leaky roof that's waiting for more shingles to fall off a pallet at the Tritown Homeporium? Did I spend winters freezing my assets off because pellet coal was $1.99 a ton? I think not," she concludes primly, and then waves at Big Theresa (of the T 'N T Hair Salon), who's substituting for $erena the Waitress, who might finally be having that baby. "Big T," says Delia. "Need a refill."

Big T wanders over. "Gotta charge ya, hon," she says. "'Nother two bits."

WHAT??? Since when?!?"

Hollis smirks to himself and surreptitiously slides his change to the edge of the table. (Pennsylvania and Delaware with their hideously Lilliputian figures. At least Tritown's home-state has so far been spared such embarrassment.)

"Since $erena started having complications," Big T says quietly. Delia blushes to the roots of her slightly too-frizzy hair (off-brand conditioner never works, does it? But does she learn?).

"Oh," she says, taking out a dollar. "Well, in that case, can you bring me another day-old doughnut?"

Later, Hollis realizes that there is a means test for string-savin'ism, but he has, as of yet, failed to answer the questions honestly, for obvious reasons.

Hollis the Mountain Man's first draft of the string-savin' cheap Yankee bastid index

Give yourself one point if you are guilty of the following (and an extra point if you substitute the words "smart enough to do" for "guilty of").

One point each for serving restaurant pat butter, margarine, salt, pepper, sugar, or artificial sweetener at home. Half a point for fast-food ketchup, hot sauce, or mustard. Two points for purloined dinner rolls.

Three points: Hasn't bought maple syrup in years because a bottle of Karo corn syrup with imitation maple flavor and a pinch of cinnamon is good enough, darn it.

One point if you use coupons weekly, but an extra three if you don't because everything you buy is in-bulk, off-brand, or fell off the back of a truck.

Did you know you can microwave together the inaccessible ends of all your stick deodorant and decant the pleasant-smelling greenish mess into one of the empties? Yes? Four points.

Do your tires fail of uniform baldness rather than uneven wear or catastrophic punctures? One point.

Bonus points: Give yourself five extra points if you sleep more than 10 hours a day (sleep is cheap!).

And skip immediately to the playoffs if you have a drawer labeled String Too Short To Use that's full up?

Score:

1 to 5: Modest, garden-variety parsimony.

6 to 10: Grasping tendencies indicated.

11 to 15 and up: Well, Hollis is working backwards to this. He's hoping to have the final draft done by the New Year's, so all his friends can save even more money. Write him with your suggestions c/o: aiolia@aol.com.

Thanks this week to my SSCYB friends and family, especially Pete Greelish, whose imagination (we hope!) is as rich as his suggestions are cheap.

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