UNITED STATES—A friend of mine told me about his stint as a server at many fêtes at the Playboy Mansion. With an edge of disgust in his voice, he grimly told me how A-list celebrities came and scooped up all the freebies offered. They were shameless about it. Armloads, truckfuls they made off with, to hear my friend tell it. They were rich and had every reason and plenty of means to avoid this degrading act, branded pejoratively as “freeloading.” But really it is being supremely “Scottish.”
Hearing about this A-list behavior set me free to be defiantly “Scottish.” On my own terms. This Hollywood dish set loose a scrappy “Scottish-ness” conditioned by my parents’ Depression-era beliefs, honed by the Great Recession, and alloyed by a deep embrace of abundance. I, for one, believe when abundance stares us in the face, it is a duty to take advantage of it—to celebrate what is given and learn to recognize all the good that constantly comes our way.
But what is “Scottish” exactly!? Your dad turning off lights could well be “Scottish,” or Cary Grant clipping coupons when he was a multi-millionaire, but that’s just half of the story. Kathryn Hepburn, as described in Garson Kanin’s irresistible memoir “Tracy and Hepburn,” embodied “Scottish” and its paradoxical nature to a T: “There are times when Kate turns curiously money-mean, economizes strangely, does without, makes do and mends. At such moments, she will explain, ‘Don’t forget I’m Scottish.’ [Yet] She is instinctively extravagant, blindly so,” writes Kanin. “She is madly generous. Her friends and family and co-workers are the constant recipients of the most imaginative forms of largesse.”
Now that is really the point of “Scottish,” to free capital, respecting it to the utmost, for pursuing greater pleasures and performing vaster deeds of kindness. That’s what it’s all about, and it’s not about money. This is a subtlety often lost in the vulgar shuffle of penny-pinching antics. So be vigilant about banking fees and the cashiers’ accuracy because it means more fun and life and charity. More money in the pot is, but a bonus.
In terms of eating style, it’s obvious that eating frugally and wisely will help the flow of more funds for better purposes. Consider, how the stingy/generous paradox can work in your own food choices: economize, yes, but ultimately base your choice on quality. After all, it’s going in your mouth. In other words, eat the least and the best. And don’t run with the crowd that eats the most for the least.
I will grab all the fresh fruits and veggies I can when the occasion offers, especially those products of nature that are easy to carry, like apples, carrots, oranges, walnuts and watermelons (though a watermelon is kind of hard to fit into your pocket). I had the cheek to ask for an apple from a tony 3rd Street salon that had a beckoning bowl of apples visible through the plate glass; you could tell the apples were going to go to waste. So why not?
Cake is special, now. It’s darn near synonymous with love; the bigger the piece being offered, the greater the love. I don’t often take the cake (though on occasion I’m the child who cuts to the chase and fingers the frosting), but I do take it for loved ones who love cake. I seek to be always on the look-out for things that loved ones may enjoy: in re-gifting is the reconciliation of often conflicting food styles, when I can appreciate what is offered with loving eyes for what another person may enjoy.
Further, to be Scottish means to be endlessly inventive and pragmatic: look always for ways to kill three birds with one stone. Killing three birds is exploiting hidden opportunities to repair, trade, utilize what is given—and altogether avoid bringing money about the mix. Like I said, being Scottish isn’t about money, but rather, devotion to thrift on behalf of benefits for oneself and others.
Humorist Grady Miller is the author of “Lighten Up Now: The Grady Diet,” available on Amazon Kindle. He can be reached at grady.miller@canyon-news.com.
By Grady Miller
