Grandma: Now I Understand

I think I heard my Grandma Kinsman's voice the other day. She passed away years ago mind you. And it wasn't some big, emotional, "I miss you Jenny," or other such nonsense. That wouldn't be like her anyways. No, it was much more practical.

I was walking the "babies" in the double-stroller down the busy two-lane road in Haymarket. We were heading to Bloom; I had my coupons and purse stowed away beneath their little feet, and a long strip of Ritz crackers on top of the stroller. Well, I hit a bump and the crackers went flying. And that's when I heard her voice.

"That's over .60 cents of good crackers laying there. Pick them up fast." So, I did. She was right. I had bought the Ritz on sale at Giant for $2.50 if there are 4 rows of crackers inside that is like about 62 cents per strip. Not worth leaving on the street.

It is funny how my perspective has changed in this economy. In the past, I don't think dropping crackers would have made my heart jump. But now, to me it is tantamount to throwing hard-earned money away on the ground. Why would I do that?

I didn't always think like this. But my grandma did.

When I was much younger, say 9 or 10, I thought my grandma was great but a little screwy when it came to money. I would go to her house and sit at her teal-green Formica kitchen table. I would sip a cold diet-coke through a straw, perched at her l-shaped booth in her spotless clean kitchen and munch on Wise potato chips while she made her grocery list and cut her coupons. She was so meticulous about it. I'd watch Grandma Kinsman slowly write each item: Very-thin bread with coupon at Giant; two bags of goldfish on sale; one new bag of Wise potato chips on sale with coupon.

It didn't just stop with the coupons. She did this soap thing too. She would use regular bar soap; none of this push soap of modern days. Oh no, regular bar soap. And when you got the bars down to the sliver, she would collect them and put them in these little pink gauze bags and tie them up and use them in the shower like the loofahs we buy now, only with soap already inside them. She wasn't a wasteful one my grandma.

She was generous too, but not wasteful. She would take me to Long John Silver's, with coupons. Or treat us to a nice Sunday night steak dinner. Grandma even helped us take nice family vacations and helped me afford my studies in Oxford, England for six months. She could afford to do things like that. Why? Probably because she had lived so carefully and frugally that she had saved so much up over the years. The Depression had taught her well.

But back then, all I thought was, "What is wrong with this woman? The Depression is OVER! Doesn't she know that?"

Now, I look back and realize, wow--what a smart woman she was. She knew how to stretch a dollar! She knew how to make things last. There was a method to Grandma Kinsman's madness, and I should have been taking notes not making jokes.

I mentioned this to my sister the other day. I told her how smart my Grandma was about saving money.

"Of course she was," she snapped at me in the tone that only big sisters can perfect over time with years of practice. "How do you think I learned how to be this way?"

Well, now I was beginning to understand. My sister was older and had listened to my Grandma more than I did. So, now I could learn both from my memories of Grandma, and from her. Nice how that works. Come to think of it, I used to pick on my sister for being frugal too. Ironic, especially since for the millionth time last night my husband stared in wonder at our spotless glasses--and said, "I can't believe how clean they are." I smiled. "Yes, dear. And all for a dollar." Thanks big sister. We wouldn't have done it without your advice or our trip to the Dollar Tree.

Well, now my daughter Lanae is now part of Grandma Kinsman's legacy. In a weak moment, and I mean WEAK, I agreed to McDonald's this weekend. It was raining and I knew there was no bread left for sandwiches and everyone was hungry after coming home from church. So, I said, do what you will. And my daughter, after being told to order "anything" said, "I want the dollar menu."

I was so proud of her, given the chance, she now prefers the dollar menu. It is the smart choice and she knows it. I was so proud, I told my husband to pick her up a milkshake in the drive-through, the same milkshake I have said no to so many times. And when she couldn't finish it, she put it in the freezer at home for later. That's my girl.

I'd like to believe that Grandma Kinsman is smiling down from heaven as we speak.

Until we meet again. My recessionary tale will continue tomorrow.