Take thrift, that presumed state of misery and penny-pinching. Proper Yankee thrift, on the contrary, feels delicious. In my experience there is a kind of nausea that attends too long a time of buying too many clothes for too much money; of paying more for restaurant dinners than they are worth; of disgorging lavish tips for which one is not even thanked (as who doesn’t have to, these days).
When this malaise comes on, it makes me feel better, and less as if I were going to throw up, to flex the muscles of my Yankee Thrift. March 25, 1961
Fenton vase from a rummage sale: $1
Brass candlesticks from a Kennebunk yard sale: $1
Flowers from Wayne: ???