- At first, my financial habits clashed with my husbands. He prioritized saving over spending.
- He was able to retired at 40 by making smart choices and enjoying a modest lifestyle.
- Now that he’s gone, I’m teaching our sons his financial strategies so they can live comfortable lives.
One of the first disagreements my husband and I ever had was over a pair of boots. They were creamy cocoa, knee-high suede, with a slender heel. I told him they were half-off the original $700.
“You spent three hundred and fifty dollars on a pair of shoes?” he asked, aghast.
It spiraled into a tedious argument, and I said what you should never say in any financial quarrel: “I spent my own money.”
“That’s not the point,” my husband retorted. “When we have kids, we must be united on what we prioritize.”
He was the saver, I was the spender.
After decades in sales, my husband was able to retire at 40, several years before we met. People assumed he’d had some stroke of fortune and that he now spent his time playing golf or buying art. But there was nothing glamorous about his choice. Long ago he’d calculated the passive income needed to support a modest lifestyle and stopped working once he hit that number. It was enough for a single man with limited expenses. Once I entered the picture, I kept working.
He was set in his ways
Over the years, I slowly absorbed his frugal habits. He scrutinized every credit card bill and regularly renegotiated cable and insurance rates. He drove the same car for 18 years. He only owned two pairs of shoes at any time. He bought his clothes at Goodwill — and he did that only on Tuesdays when seniors got 10% off. He railed against consumerism, fast-forwarding through commercials and firmly believing that most people need only a fraction of what corporate America tries to sell them.
Adjusting to his mindset wasn’t easy. I’d been a fashion editor, where a designer wardrobe was part of the job. I loved luxury hotels, roomy airline seats, and instant solutions — like buying a new dining set when a chair broke. (My husband would simply pull a spare chair from the garage, unconcerned that it didn’t match.)
He wanted to teach our kids to be savers
After our sons were born, my husband opened custodial accounts, bought them piggy banks, and read them illustrated books about saving.
While thrifty, he was never cheap — especially when it came to his family. He bought organic berries and antibiotic-free chicken. When our older son showed promise on the piano, my husband enrolled him in $200-an-hour master classes. (Now 23, that son is a professional pianist and composer with millions of TikTok views.) When our younger son became fascinated with aviation, my husband booked discovery flights and invested in remote-controlled airplanes. (At 19, he’s now a flight instructor.) Fundamentally, my husband believed money should support a sterling interior life — physical well-being, emotional wholeness, a refined intellect — not “flash and fripperies,” as he’d say.
Now I’m carrying on his lessons
My husband passed away from a heart attack during COVID. In the lockdown, my career as a freelance writer languished. The boys were entering periods in their lives when we had to think about college, cars, and the hellish landscape that is auto insurance for young drivers. My husband had always believed in saving for a rainy day and in his passing, we were in the middle of a downpour.
Luckily, our sons have their father’s mindset. They shop on eBay, and live at home to “stack cash.” I opened brokerage accounts for them. They have yet to embrace a long-term view, rolling their eyes when I explain compound interest and what they could save by 40. “We’ll probably be living in a post-apocalyptic world anyway,” they say.
“Be that as it may,” I reply, “just stash a few dollars a day and see what happens. It’s what your dad did.”
For me now, saving is the new spending. When I recently needed a winter coat, I drove past the alluring store windows, and straight to Goodwill. And, in my husband’s honor, I waited till Tuesday.
