Willy lives the definition of ‘frugal’ ~ February 16, 1984

David Heiller

What does the word “frugal” mean? To some, it means being prudent or economical. It means you can save money, because you are cautious and thrifty. These are virtuous qualities.

Looked at from another angle, frugal brings up images of Silas Marner hunched over his pile of gold, carefully counting each penny, literally a penny-pincher. It means tight-fisted, uncompassionate, scrimping, tight, or worst of all, stingy.

Both definitions are right, and you can probably recall people in both categories. People who would give just about everything they own to help another, and people who would hardly part with a dime to give to a crippled beggar in the street.

There is a third definition of frugal too, which comes to my mind when I think of a man I know. His name is Willie Boyer, and he lives in rural Tamarack. When you live in rural Tamarack, you know you live out in the country.

I first met Willie in the winter of 1977, when I was caretaker for some property and buildings where he lived. I lived in a house near Willie’s shack, and part of my job was to look in on the 74-year-old man every day, to see that he was doing all right. I might as well as have looked in on a sleeping bear, or a brush wolf. Willie was about as self sufficient as either animal, and needed my help about as much.

Willie read his philosophy books by kerosene lamps.
Willie died 1988, still on his own.

As those winter months passed, I got to know Willie, and I got to know the meaning of frugal, in a practical sense. He lived in a tarpaper shack that was just big enough for his bunk, his cook stove, and his table, where he would work, or play chess with a chess magazine. He collected all his own wood, dragging it in from the woods and stacking it in large tepees in front of his shack. He cut the wood with a buck saw or cross-cut saw. A lifetime as a logger had taught him all he needed to know for making wood.

He had no telephone, or electricity. He would light a kerosene lantern for reading or working at night. He would listen to his portable radio for news. He got his water from a hand pump.

All this was new to me, and impressed me for its frugality. But there are quite a few people who live such lifestyles, even in the Askov area. Willie went beyond that. He didn’t buy any clothing, not even at Goodwill. Relatives or neighbors would bring him hand-me-downs, and that was all he wore. He didn’t go out much, so he wasn’t concerned about appearances.

He didn’t waste anything. I remember being impressed about what he would do with old sweaters. When the sleeves would wear out, he would cut them off at the elbow, sew up one end, and make socks out of them. When he broke his only straight edge razor, he grew a beard. He also grew all his own food, with the exception of wheat, for the flour for his sourdough.

David and I outside of the house he lived
 in that winter on Willie's property.

Willie did have expenses, such as butter, a dozen eggs, kerosene, an occasional binge for ice cream, when company arrived or some books on philosophy. But I bet he spent less than $1,000 a year.
After I left that place in the spring of 1977, I kept in touch with Willie. His letters would come on recycled envelopes from junk mail, and he would write in pencil on the back of Reader’s Digest sweepstakes letters.

Now Willie has moved to a new house he built about 20 yards from the old shack. This house he built mostly by himself, from timber on his property. He is still the most frugal man I know. He can get by with next to nothing. He never married—it wasn’t practical or absolutely necessary for him.

There is no moral to this story, no snappy ending. I just think about Willie at times and wonder. In our society, when people can make a million dollars a year and end up paupers ten years later, I wonder. When people have what we have, from color television sets, clothes that go unworn and dinner at a restaurant once a month, and complain about the hard times, I wonder.

Think about it the next time you need a new pair of socks. Don’t throw those old sweaters away.