Money

TSWNSTTA (part two)

My Mom and Dad encouraged it, and I bought what they were selling. For me, it tasted good. I liked the Kool-Aid.

Saving. My Mom and Dad encouraged it. I liked the program. The idea of money in a bank. 

I had (still have them) modified piggy banks. One is an enclosed beer can from a nearby brewery we would tour as a family. Root beer samples and beer can piggy banks were free gifts, handed out to all the children at the end of the tour. (I can’t imagine that would be allowed, today. Beer can banks for the children.) 

My second modified pig bank, it’s also an enclosed can. This one, it was a send away for it promo - dog food can (bank).

I still have them, two old cans, modified pig banks, with slots in the top. They’re both full of coins, maybe some paper too (who knows)? Maybe some collectibles worth millions. Maybe I’m sitting upon a million dollar coin in a can? (Yeah, probably not. But maybe, who knows?)

I digress… two enclosed cans with slots cut into the top. 

Saving is what I’m talking about. 

Scott enjoys it - saving. 

Weirdo…

^^^^^

My Mom and Dad, they pointed me in the right direction. They brought me with them to a nearby (walking distance) bank.

They suggested I might consider taking a few bills from the hiding place, under my bed and depositing said currency, opening an account at the neighborhood savings bank.

Said banking people, they treated me kindly. I sat down with my Neighborhood Banker, a Bank Woman I think, and I was given a nifty deposit book with a groovy embossed textured sleeve. Bank book and sleeve, it felt fancy, important. 

And best of all, I was introduced to the concept of - Interest. 

What, really? That’s a real thing? 

If I deposit ten dollars with your bank and I don’t touch it, then each month, your institution will add your money to my money? You pay me to hold on to my money and keep it safe from the outlaws I see in the movies and on TV? 

Really???

Money can make money? Really???

That’s it. I was hooked.

I loved it. Loved the concept. Money - in the bank. Money making money. I liked that idea. It felt good. Powerful. 

I was all in…

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Growing up, my Parents, they were generous. Not right away, things were not purchased on a whim. But holidays were big at our house… Christmas, Birthdays, Easter, any excuse for giving - my Mom and my Dad always gave their three children almost anything (within reason) that we wanted. 

My Dad worked long hours, a blue collar, union man. 

My Mom’s life revolved around her home and her kids. She wanted her house and her yard and her stuff to be nice. She wanted to give her children most anything they wanted. 

We wanted for nothing. My Parents were loving and at the same time - great providers. 

No issues, no money issues, when I was young (and my heart was an open book)

There weren’t any money issues - - - that I was aware of.

<<<<<

But if this ever changing world in which we live in, makes you give in and cry…

(song lyric: Paul McCartney and Wings)

Older, high school age, certainly college - I became aware of a split. My Mom and my Dad, they were not on the same page - with money. 

They were reading from different books.

I became aware, my Dad, while happy to provide, he was frugal, a saver. My Mom, not so much for herself, very little for herself, mostly for us (her kids), kids and home, but still - she spent. Mom was a spender.

And then, if a couple can’t talk about it - TSWNSTTA - The Things We’re Not Supposed To Talk About - in this case, money, well then trouble is to be expected.

Couples should not be clones. Clones don’t make for good Partners. One person strong where the other is weak. That’s good stuff, a good formula - synergy.

But money… well there’s a thing - same page thing. Couples, Partners, thick and thin, they need to be on the same page or close to it when it comes to . 

My Mom and Dad didn’t or couldn’t effectively, productively talk about money. And so, ergo, 

my once happy home, became a place of disagreement. 

Save it or spend it? (How about - a little - of both? Middle child, I tried to work it out. But… no dice. I couldn’t do anything to bridge the gap.)

Nope… heels dug in deep, Syracuse soil, (once) good ground. Trouble took root, grew like a weed and corrosion was the result

 - live and let die (song lyric, a sad one).

And why? And for what? 

Money? Money. Money!

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And finally, it came time for me to start making my way, a beginning of my own. 

I was an hourly worker. 

No salary (allowance) from my Parents. Not in my home.

I got paid for tasks completed. Washing my Grandma’s front porch with a rag and bucket of suds - spring cleaning, that was my Grandma’s thing - spring cleaning. 

Mowing my families, long, rectangular, grass grows fast in Syracuse - yard. Clearing snow in the winter. Lots of snow to be cleared in the winter. White gold, that snow. Snow = dollar signs (Substack, don’t know why, won’t publish dollar signs)

And then came a couple of hand me down jobs tossed my way from a great friend. Mowing grass at the place where my Friend's Dad worked. Cleaning a Doctors office at the place where my Friend's Mom worked. (It felt good. Work and a paycheck.)

And then I scored my own gig. Busing and washing dirty dishes, scaling half thawed fish every Thursday, in prep for fish fry Fridays at a nearby (walking distance) department store restaurant. (Wow, I am old. Department store restaurants. Yes, like coffee shops in Target, or a McD’s in the back of a Walmart. It was a thing.)

Maybe the best job I ever had. (The Waitresses I worked with were fun loving and cool. I was in high school.)

Money plus fun, fish scales be damned. Fish scales wash off and then one (Busboy, that’s me) goes dancing with Waitresses. Disco, don’t knock it. 

No romance. Just dancing. Simple fun. Money for drinks and good company. Dancing and lots of laughs. 

That was enough….

>>>>>

But then they sent me away

To teach me how to be sensible

Logical

Oh, responsible, practical

(you guessed it, more - song lyrics; wonderful Supertramp - The Logical Song)

^^^^^

I could go on and on, and bore you with (money - win, lose, draw) details 

Some hard knocks and some good luck - years - experience - money

Let me cut to chase - one thing I’ve learned - one thing true

What they tell you about “hard work”, well Friend, don’t you believe them…

Hard work, hard work… that’s boss talk.

Hard work will not make you - rich.

Yes, work, but work smart.

And looping back, not to my cool can slot, pig banks, but after that… the real banks, your friendly Neighborhood banker and his magic… remember?

Interest. Money making money.

Make your money, after you’ve (hard work) earned it - make Your (hard earned) Money work hard - for you - for you and for your future.

We’re doing well. We’re doing fine. But if we knew then, what we know now.

Money + Interest (compounding) + Time (persistence, stay the course)

Well then, there you have it. 

Money

(Or at least, enough, more than most).

^^^^^

File under: If I knew then, what I know now…

Tell your kids. Tell your Grandkids.

Save $200 per month - 5% return - compounded for 45 years = $892,064.90 

The same, sock away 

$200 per month - 10% return - compounded for 45 years = $5,237,865.83

Does 10% sound like a high rate of return to you? It’s not. It’s not crazy, not impossible.

The S&P 500 (index funds) averages 10% returns over long periods of time, if one stays the course through thick and thin (and there will be “thins” = falls). 

Don’t bail, in fact, buy when you’re young and the sky is falling. Buy when everyone sells, when you’re young, when you’re still young. Buy fear. 

Exercise discipline and stay the course, and well - you don’t have to be Super Elon to become rich, to have enough.

And then, when you do have enough, more than enough even. Imagine.. More than enough.

Well then, with more than enough, one might do some big good. Be generous. Kind.

Take care of self - first, family - next, and then maybe community, country, world.

Money. Just one of the TSWNSTTA - the things we’re not supposed to talk about. (But we should. Yes - do. Talk about it.)

Money. Be its master, not its slave. 

Money. A tool.