My husband retired at 40, and now I teach our children his thriftiness

• At first, my financial habits conflicted with my husbands. He prioritized savings over spending.
• He was able to retire at 40, making smart choices and enjoying a modest lifestyle.
• Now that he is gone, I teach our sons his financial strategies so they can live comfortably.

One of the first disagreements my husband and i have ever been over a pair of boots. They were cream-colored cocoa, knee-high suede, with a thin heel. I told him they were half the original $700.

“Did you spend three hundred and fifty dollars on a pair of shoes?” he asked, stunned.

It turned into a boring argument and I said something that should never be said in any financial argument: “I spent my own money.”

“That’s not the point,” answered my husband. “When we have children, we have to be united about what’s a priority.”

He saved and I spent.

After decades in sales, my husband was able to retire at 40, a few years before we met. People assumed that fate had happened to him, and now he spends his time playing golf or buying art. But there was nothing glamorous about his choice. He had calculated long ago passive income required maintain a modest lifestyle and stopped working when he reached that figure. This was enough for one person with limited expenses. Having entered the picture, I continued to work.

He was set in his ways

Over the years I slowly absorbed it frugal habits. He scrutinized every credit card payment and reviewed cable and insurance rates regularly. He drove the same car for 18 years. He had only two pairs of shoes at a time. He bought his clothes at Goodwill — and only did so on Tuesdays, when senior citizens got 10 percent off. He railed against consumerism, fast-forwarding advertising and firmly believing that most people only needed a fraction of what corporate America was trying to sell them.

Adapting to his way of thinking was not easy. I was a fashion editor where designer wardrobe was part of the job. I loved the luxury hotels, the spacious seats on the airlines, and the instant solutions—like buying a new dinner set when the chair broke. (My husband just pulled a spare chair out of the garage without worrying about it not fitting.)

He wanted to teach our children to save

After our sons were born, my husband open storage accountsbought them piggy banks, read illustrated books about savings.

Although he was thrifty, he was never cheap, especially when it came to his family. He bought organic berries and antibiotic-free chicken. When our older son started playing the piano, my husband enrolled him in piano lessons for $200 an hour. (This son is now 23, a professional pianist and composer, and has millions of views on TikTok.) When our youngest son became interested in aviation, my husband booked sightseeing flights and invested in remote control airplanes. (At 19, he’s now a flight instructor.) In essence, my husband believed that money should support a pure inner life—physical well-being, emotional integrity, a refined intellect—not “flash and bits,” as he called it.

Now I teach his lessons

My husband died of a heart attack during COVID. During the quarantine, my career as a freelance writer slowed down. The boys were entering periods of their lives where we had to think about college, cars and the hellscape that is car insurance for young drivers. My husband always believed saving for a rainy day and when it passed we were in the midst of a downpour.

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Fortunately, our sons have a fatherly mindset. They shop on eBay and live at home to “collect cash”. I opened brokerage accounts for them They have yet to embrace the long term, rolling their eyes as I explain compound interest and what they can save up to 40 years old. “We’ll probably be living in a post-apocalyptic world anyway,” they say.

“Whatever,” I reply, “just save a few dollars a day and see what happens. That’s what your dad used to do.”

Now for me savings are new expenses. When I needed a winter coat recently, I drove past the attractive storefronts and straight to Goodwill. And, to my husband’s credit, I waited until Tuesday.