Kathleen Elkins
My dad doesn't like spending money — and he wouldn't mind me writing that.
He also doesn't like having excessive things. He keeps his space neat and tidy and buys only what he needs. An early lesson he instilled was the difference between a "want" and a "need," and he taught my brothers and me to spend only on the latter.
Gift-giving presents a challenge to my minimalist, money-conscious father, as it often involves spending money and spending money on things. He could opt not to buy us anything, of course, but he's more of a softie than he lets on.
His solution for his three kids, at least, is what he's coined the "go-to gift."
The concept is this: For any gift-giving event, such as a birthday or Christmas, he'll buy one "go-to gift" only after the receiver has successfully pitched him on why he should buy it.
I can pitch anything, within reason, but I have to convince him that I'll use it or that it'll add value to my life. As he likes to say, "Anything goes … as long as it's utilitarian."
His strategy is useful for him and me: He feels better about how he's spending his money, and I have to spend time thinking about what I value and what items or experiences could have an additive effect.
In 2021, ahead of a particularly busy road racing schedule, including the Boston and New York City marathons, I pitched him on a pair of carbon-plate running shoes. One year, he subsidized my gym membership for six months. This year, he's buying me a case of tennis balls. The activity-focused gifts are a relatively easy sell for my dad, who values health and movement just as much as I do.
He hasn't flat-out turned anything down yet, but when I asked for a pair of high-quality joggers one year, he had a few follow-up questions. That was in 2017, and I like to remind him that I still own and wear them seven years later.
Around the holidays, when his gift-giving tradition is particularly top of mind, it reminds me to spend consciously — to think before I swipe my credit card and ask myself why I'm purchasing what I'm about to purchase. Sometimes, I can justify it; other times, I can't.
The second money lesson folded into his tradition is to buy quality. Rather than trying to "save money" in the moment by buying the cheapest version of an item, I'd rather spend extra on something that will last longer and save me in the long run — something like the joggers that are still kicking after seven years and hundreds of wash cycles.
