Green stamps

Remember these?

Yep. S&H Green Stamps. My cousin recently posted a comment about them on Facebook, asking if anyone was old enough to know what these were.

Most people answered yes, they did. Because their grandmother collected them. That made me feel really old, until I learned they were actually in use until the late 1980s.

Sperry & Hutchinson (thus, the S&H) began offering stamps to U.S. retailers in 1896. The retailers, such as grocery stores and gas stations, bought the stamps from S&H and gave them as bonuses to shoppers based on the dollar amount of a purchase.

The stamps were perforated and after collecting several pages, we then moistened them (usually by licking - ugh! They could have made them taste better) and mounted them in collectors books, which were provided free by merchants. The books contained 24 pages and to fill a page required 50 points, so each book contained 1200 points.

The books could then be exchanged for gifts from the local Green Stamps redemption store.

My mother once gave me the twenty cents for a round trip fare and sent me downtown St. Paul on the Grand-East 3rd Street bus line to redeem several books of stamps for a surprise birthday gift for my father. It was a black, goose-necked desk lamp for his home office.

I thought nothing of it at the time, but now I realize how important it often was for a housewife to collect green stamps.  This enabled my mother to get a gift for Dad, not only without him knowing about it, but because money was tight and the stamps were received with her grocery purchases.

There's nothing better than the feeling of getting something in the way of a bonus. Kind of a reward, a sense of satisfaction of sorts, a frugal feeling.

I definitely think they should bring them back.

Thrift shopping

How many of you like a bargain? Okay, okay, I see all of you are raising your hands.

So how many of you love to snoop around in thrift shops?  If you have never done so, you just don't know what you might be missing.

Forget garage sales.  You have to drive around to find them, park two or three blocks away, and then discover all they have are dirty children's clothes, odds and ends of dishes, small appliances that may or may not work, or puzzles with pieces missing.

But at most thrift shops, donated items are cleaned, tested, and tend to be in sets, like dinnerware or kitchen canisters. Really gross stuff gets rejected as this gives a good thrift store a bad name.

My friend and I ventured to the charming town of Cambridge, Minnesota, one day last week. This was a half-way meeting point for both of us, she from St. Cloud and me from Lindstrom.  Our purpose in meeting was to catch up on our lives as we don't get a chance to visit very often, and to treat ourselves to lunch and a good visit.

We accomplished our goal with a two-hour lunch at Hermann's Bakery and Cafe on Main Street that was absolutely wonderful. A cozy table by the window outlined with lace curtains and looking out on Main Street decorated with yellow autumn mum plants provided the ambiance for a yummy spinach salad, freshly baked cinnamon bread, and creamy Chai tea.

But our minds during lunch were fixed on the view directly across the street: the Shalom Thrift Shop, which beckoned as we ate and demanded our attention. Neither of us were about to resist.

Like most thrift shops, it is staffed totally with volunteers. One of the nicest thrift stores I have seen, it's more like a department store - neat, clean, spacious aisles, well organized, and with professional-looking displays.

The shop started in 1981 with a ladies' church group offering free clothing in a parsonage basement one day a week to those in need. It quickly grew from the basement to a grocery store parking lot, to space in an entire house, to a shoe store, to its present location, an old Ben Franklin store on Main Street.

All items were spotless. Dishes sparkled, clothes were clean, books were categorized, and Halloween costumes and decorations were prominently featured.

There was even a quiet library sitting area where you could take a break and peruse the books on the shelf before making the decision to purchase a book.  Hmmm, a paperback for 35 cents? Or a hard cover book for a dollar?

Greeting cards were ten cents each. Again, categorized by occasion and neatly lined up with matching envelopes.

Entertaining as it was, and notwithstanding the wonderful time spent with my dear friend, I approached the checkout line with a full cart. A tissue holder in a southwestern design for our home in Arizona, a cake pan, a pair of slacks, a book, a Tupperware picnic set, a wooden salad serving set, three boxes of hardware for our Arizona bedroom, and nightlight bulbs.

Grand total?  Seventeen dollars!

The real value, however, came from realizing that my purchases were a vehicle for helping someone in need in the local community. All donated, with pleasant volunteer staff that sort, clean, fix, stock, and ring up a sale, that $17 might go into a gas tank for someone searching for a job, buy a clean blanket, pay for bus fare, or furnish a child with school lunches.

Next time you see a thrift store, check it out. Bargains abound for you, and benefit a neighbor as a bonus.

Spending an afternoon with a friend?  Diane and I can attest to the fun an afternoon of thrift shopping can provide.

Pinching pennies

In today's shaky economy, pinching pennies is talked about a lot. Thriftiness is almost in vogue. New and used stores are popping up all over. There's even a publication called Cheapskate Gazette. Everyone is pinching pennies.

When I was a newlywed; then the mother of one; then two, pinching pennies meant survival.

Like many young people, my then-husband, Gary, and I, he twenty-one and me nineteen, were giddy with the freedom of being on our own for the first time. Credit came readily and we were easy prey.

And, after all, we were both working and it was fun to spend money on all the things we wanted to furnish our new apartment. Department and furniture store shopping was a regular activity for us.

When I became pregnant, I was told I would need to resign my job when the baby was born as my employer, a railroad company, didn't keep new mothers on the job. They claimed to experience "potential high absentee rates" among mothers. This wasn't acceptable.

Can you imagine any employer getting away with this practice now? But this was the mid-60s. Times were different.

So we found ourselves with little money and in debt. We owed much more than we made. We precariously juggled the bills each month, holding our breath as we sent in all the minimum payments. What was left was what we lived on. And there was a baby on the way.

Then we learned my pregnancy wasn't even covered by my former employer's hospitalization. Our newly-purchased insurance called it a "pre-existing condition" and denied coverage as well. Now we would also owe the hospital and doctor.

So we learned very quickly about pinching pennies.

We moved to Ohio where my husband was offered a job at a sandblasting company. There were promises of advancement there.

We loaded a U-Haul and away we went. Gary's boss co-signed a loan so we could buy our first house, a former carriage barn converted to a small home.

I went to work part-time at the local hospital, working evenings when Gary was home with our two little children.

We lived on next to nothing. But the lessons of economizing come back to me now:

Using a half-pound of ground beef in a recipe that called for a full pound. And a half-can of mandarin oranges in Jell-O, saving the other half can for another day.

Packing lunches of stewed tomatoes and peanut butter sandwiches for my working husband. Making and freezing homemade Spaghetti-Os for children's lunches. Seven cents to make vs. 17 cents to buy.

We had friends that gave us pears and cherries from their trees, if Gary would pick them. From his boss, we got free tomatoes for the picking. I canned everything I got my hands on. How rich I felt looking at my stocked cupboards of home-canned goods. How gratifying to know I was contributing to the well-being of my family, financially as well as nutritionally.

Today, as I'm writing this, I'm making a double batch of spaghetti sauce to put in the freezer. Tomatoes from our garden. Onions from our garden. Garlic from a neighbor, swapped for some of my fresh basil. As the sauce simmers, I'm feeling thrifty.

Pinching pennies, once again. My lessons of economizing coming in handy. This time, more out of wisdom than necessity.

But either way, it feels good. And gratifying. Things money can't buy.