CHILDREN'S PROGRAMS :THE FORMATIVE YEARS

I feel very fortunate that my home environment provided me
with the beginning necessary for a future of financial independence.
My father started out in radio and TV repair, so our
house was the first on the block to have a colour television. My
brother and I thought this was good fortune in itself, but the
kind of children's programming that contributed to my freedom
wasn't the kind on TV. The use of money had important consequences
in our household, and it influenced our everyday life.
Its not that my parents directly set out to teach me their money
philosophy — I was a captive audience, and being impressionable
I couldn't help but absorb their gems of financial wisdom.
I listened, observed, and followed the rules, completely unaware
of the beneficial foundation being built around me.
"Teach your children well" was a line in a popular song
when I was growing up, and the money concepts I learned
from family interactions have served me well. One of my earliest
recollections is of my European grandfather towering over
me and demanding to know "What for you need this one?"
I have no idea now what the item was, but the point was
clear: there were needs, and there were wants. This concept
repeated itself regularly through parental idioms such as "You
don't need it," "We give you everything you need," and
"Money doesn't grow on trees." Sometimes, when my father
was in a teasing mood, he would let me think I might get
what I was pleading for. He would pose the same question as
my grandfather but phrase it differently. One time, he said,
"Suppose you tell me exactly why you need an 'X'."
That was the bait. I didn't know that my dad was only
doing this for sport and that, really, I didn't stand a chance
of ever getting my coveted 'X'. I was so easily led. Perking up
with hope, I answered too quickly, "Because I want it."
My father countered, "No, I asked you to tell me why you
need it, not want it." After seeing my crestfallen face, he continued,
"But go ahead, tell me why you want it," and he kept
the game going.
"Because I really like it," I answered.
"That's not a good enough reason. Try again," he teased.
"Because all my friends have one."
I think everyone knows the old "If all your friends jumped
off a bridge . . ,." wisecrack I heard next.
Finally, my mother ended my suffering by shaming my
father with "Stop teasing her! You know she takes you seriously."
I remember Dad slinking out of the room, leaving me
standing there and wondering what had happened.
When my parents were busy, whining was countered with
"Because I said so" and "Don't talk back," immediately followed
by some sort of punishment if it didn't stop. I became very well
behaved. Whether these parenting skills are considered politically
correct today really isn't the point. The real point was
well made: need versus want.
My parents controlled how money was spent simply
because they were the source of it. If they didn't work, they
didn't have it. But equally important, money didn't control
them. They were never "work slaves" since they chose the type
and duration of work freely They still enjoy "working" as long
as it's at endeavours of their own choosing. My parents started
out with little, but they quickly attained a comfortable, secure
lifestyle in their own way. They had control over income,
spending, saving, and ultimately their destiny.
The lesson in our home was that you only got something
if you worked for it. Working meant making something or
doing something that someone else would pay for. While my
parents covered all my needs, and I had a privileged childhood
with lessons, many vacations, special-occasion gifts, and
a lot of quality family time, there were still all those unlimited
wants every child has. (Only much later did I realize that
wants are limitless throughout life.) And they were of the
utmost importance to me. Even though I had the usual chores,
I didn't have an allowance. I was so envious of my friends
who were handed money weekly to spend as they pleased. If
I wanted anything from my wish list, I had to use the concept
of exchanging something of value for money. This became
one of the most important lessons in helping me to achieve
financial independence. There really are no free lunches.
Whatever I got was all up to me.
So how does a kid in grade school earn money? As it
turned out, my parents provided a great example. Exchanging
value for money took on many forms. My mother sold real
estate and ran an office. My father was an entrepreneur mainly,
but he started out working for an employer and then quickly
went into sales. Those were his day jobs. Other endeavours
included home building and renovating, but everyday opportunities
also provided spare cash.
While my father was working at an appliance repair shop,
a woman had her washing machine brought in to be fixed,
but she decided the estimate was too high. She also refused
to pay the charge to deliver it back to her house. No one at
the store wanted the machine, so my father took it home,
repaired it, and then sold my mothers old wringer washer.
The couple who bought it didn't have a car, so they were
happy the wringer had casters. Laughing at themselves, they
wheeled it down the street, around the corner, and presumably
all the way home.
Another time my father won a new television in a contest,
so my parents placed an ad in the paper to sell our old one. It
had a real wood cabinet but needed some TLC. I was paid to
clean it up, fill in the scratches, and polish the wood to a fine
shine. A man called for the details and came by when just my
mother and I were at home. He liked the TV but turned to my
mother seriously and said, "Lady, are you sure your husband
knows you're selling this?" After questioning her a few more
times, he bought it and carried it hurriedly out of our house.
Even in the driveway with the TV safely in his car, he kept
glancing down the street, wary of my father's untimely arrival.
At my father's renovation projects, I swept and cleaned to
make some pocket money. At one house, I agreed to razor
scrape and then clean the multipaned, leaded-glass windows.
I was up on a ladder in the hot sun for hours, scraping off
old paint and wiping each tiny, diamond-shaped pane clean.
Finally, when the job was done, I worked out my earnings to
be about one dollar an hour. The money wasn't worth the
effort I spent, and I never did windows for my father again.
What I gleaned from all this, however, is that a product or
service that someone else wants can be exchanged for money.
I also learned, though, that the exchange is not always fair
and that the amount of money paid doesn't always equal the
amount of work done. It was a valuable lesson that I applied
to my future jobs.
I soon found easier ways to earn money. I started making
velvet bookmarks with customized designs and sold them at
school. After a Sunday fishing trip with my brother and Dad,
I took a crayfish to school for "show and tell" and promptly
sold it to a boy in my class. Unfortunately, when he put it in
the aquarium at home, his sister watched in horror as the crayfish
immediately snipped off the tails of her goldfish and dined
on their helpless bodies. A few days later, he brought the crayfish
back in for "show and tell," this time laid out in a match
box, its stiffened form shellacked for all eternity.
Another way to earn money was looking for pop bottles
to return for the deposit. Some of the bottles came from my
grandparents' basement. On one occasion, I found a bottle with
the tortured remains of a large bug inside, frozen in its predeceased
position of reaching up toward the opening. Alarmed,
I ran upstairs with it. My grandmother tried to calm me down.
Explaining to me, she chuckled: "He go in, he not go out.
You see? — bug catcher!" Then she roared with laughter at the
bug's comeuppance. Old Country humour, I guess. I didn't get
it. And, as for that bottle, I decided to leave it behind.
My brother and I made regular contributions to the local
newspaper's Junior Press Club. Our work wasn't always published,
but often enough we won gift certificates from a major
department store. It was worth the time and effort, and the
coupons could be converted into cash at Mom's Bank.
At other times, I was told to "just look around" and find
ways of exchanging something of value for money. My parents
had an extensive garden and a big thicket of raspberries
lining the backyard. When the berries were ripe, I was allowed
to pick them and sell quarts to neighbours as long as I went
door to door myself. At my shy hesitation, my mother would
say "You've got a voice — use it!" just as her mother had said
to her when she was a child. My grandparents couldn't speak
English well, and they needed my mother to communicate for
them when dealing with others. That phrase, however, was
instrumental in driving away my shyness. Not only was I able
to sell produce to the neighbours, but I also discovered another
way of helping them to part with their money. The idea came
from the teachers at grade school who urged the students to
collect money for various charities by going door to door. No
problem for me: I already had experience doing that with raspberries.
But after talking it over with a girlfriend, we decided
that a front like that would be a great way to get money for
us! My friend never lacked confidence, so we decided to try
our idea on an elderly lady a few houses down the street. She
was very nice when we told her we were collecting money for
school, but then she wanted to know which charity it was for.
We really hadn't thought about it, so after stumbling around
a bit we just said we couldn't remember. I think she knew
what we were up to, and I was surprised when she went back
into the house and returned with a handful of change. We
eagerly took the money and skipped back to my house. But
our elation was short-lived. My mother was waiting at the
front door with her arms crossed; she had somehow managed
to witness the whole escapade. I quickly recognized that she
had a voice too, and she used it on us. She made us march
right back to that sweet elderly lady to return all her money,
and rightly so. By then, I knew what we had done was wrong.
It was also my first big lesson in financial risk management.
Easy money has its risky side — you can win big, but be prepared
to lose it all and suffer the consequences. I went back
to selling berries.
The garden was such a good source of food that my parents
jumped on the "homegrown" bandwagon and registered
me and my brother for children's garden plots at the nearby
Botanical Gardens. I hated going there, even though I won a
few prizes for my garden. I think the prizes were really for
Mom's weeding skills. Both my parents were thrilled at the
amount of produce the whole family now generated, and they
bought a freezer for the yearly bounty. Labels of "The Midnight
Canning Company" appeared on the jars in the pantry and
the containers in the freezer. One year produced such a bumper
crop of yellow beans that we ate them every single night for
a whole winter. To this day, I will not touch yellow beans,
and I can't for the life of me understand how my parents could
stand them at every supper. "We eat whatever we grow," they
said. Pride perhaps? The fact is, growing our own vegetables
was not only a cheap source of food but also a good education.
As an adult, I've enjoyed the benefits of a garden for
years, although you will never catch me planting yellow beans.
The garden was also an example of saving money. There
were two ways of generating savings: by spending less on what
was bought and by setting aside income. Those two acts
resulted in money in the bank. This concept was a given in
our household. "You have to save!" was equal in importance
to "You have to brush your teeth!" and said in the same manner
as expressing shock that anyone could ever think otherwise.
The garden saved us the money that would have been spent
at the market or the grocery store (less the minimal cost of
seeds) for the same food.
My first bank account was set up for me a few weeks after
I was born. All my relatives came to visit and gathered around
the bassinet. Fortunately for me, when my grandfather looked
in, I gave him such a big smile that he rewarded me handsomely.
Pulling out his wallet, he declared, "$20! I give $20
for her smile — for my granddaughter!" So began my savings.
My mother regularly added the baby bonus cheques to
that account as well. As I grew up and received earnings or
gifts of money, I was strongly encouraged to deposit at least
half of each amount in the bank. Saving money by spending
less was a more abstract concept, yet it also resulted in savings
by default. I learned that I could save money by not
buying something in the first place or by spending the least
possible amount on it.
We also saved money by not automatically replacing every
worn or broken item. First we'd judge if the item was really
needed or even still wanted; then we'd decide whether to fix
it, borrow one, or buy a new one. That is not to say we didn't
have anything new. My parents did buy new items, but for
things that didn't matter that much, well, why buy new? We
weighed value (price of an item) against effort (income to buy
it) in deciding how worthwhile something was. My parents
always thought about the trade-offs before making a purchase.
Add the importance of savings and you realize how unimportant
paying the highest price for almost anything really is.
Savings were used to get rid of debt, which in my parents'
case was the mortgage on the family home. There was no car
loan or any other kind of consumer debt. My parents believed
that, if they couldn't pay for something in cash, they couldn't
afford it. Rather than borrow money, they saved money until
they had enough for whatever they wanted; today this is known
as the seemingly archaic concept of delayed gratification.
My father, who enjoyed horseback riding on occasion,
made the mistake of introducing it to me. It started with pony
rides, and as I got older we spent quality time together on
trail rides. Naturally, I wanted my own horse, and, while my
parents could have bought one for me, they decided against
it. So it was my responsibility to satisfy my want on rny own.
Realistically, I knew I couldn't buy and board a horse, and all
I really wanted was to ride one, not to own and look after
one. Riding lessons, though, were within my grasp. I asked
for lessons instead of other gifts, and I did extra chores around
the house for money. I added half of my babysitting income
and paycheques from after-school jobs at a gift shop and the
public library. Naturally, the other half went into savings.
Besides delayed gratification, other solutions were either to
buy an item used or to make it yourself. I got new figure
skates one Christmas, but when I outgrew them the next year
my mother decided to buy me used ones. Through a friend,
she bought a used pair in my new size and in good condition,
but they were a pastel blue. I can't say I was fond of the
colour, but they were good skates, and no one stole them.
As a family, we travelled to Florida every other year in the
spring, and we went camping for summer holidays before we
had our summer house. I regularly went fishing with my dad
and brother, but I really just wanted to be in the rowboat that
my father had made. It seems to me now that he made a lot
of our worldly goods, but I suppose if he could build a house
he could build almost anything.
My grandmother was an expert seamstress and passed along
her skills to my mother. When I was little, she made beautiful
clothes — lovely suits for herself and cute outfits for me.
Evening classes enhanced her professionalism. When I was a
preteen, she encouraged my ideas and gave me final approval
on any clothes she sewed for me. When we went to fabric
stores, it was fun searching the notions department for tapestry,
ribbon, silk cord, and feather trims. I was getting too tall for
a favourite blue dress of mine, so my mother let me add a
row of matching blue feathers to lengthen the bottom. She
also let me choose fake leopard fur for the lining, collar, and
cuffs on a coat she was making for me. My own attempts at
sewing clothes were average at best, but I've always done my
own tailoring, thanks to Mom's teachings.
Heavy draperies, curtains, and sheers in the house were
also my mother's handiwork. The curtains in the kitchen had
tiebacks that were formerly a multicoloured plastic chain belt
that my mother and I shared. The belt happened to match
the colours in the curtains perfectly. My father took an upholstery
course and recovered our first sofa and chair, which
became my brother's "bachelor pad" furniture and later my
first living room suite. Led by my parents' example, we took
good care of our things and saved our money.
Hand-me-downs were normal, and I was too young to know
that rny wagon, snowsuit, and skis were originally my brother's.
They were in excellent condition and perfectly fine for me.
While growing up, I realized that it was somewhat unusual
for a family to be so self-sufficient. I discovered that people
hired decorators to paint and wallpaper their houses or contractors
to pour a patio, build a garage, or do other remodelling
work. I remember asking my father once how he was able to
do so many things (and everything was always done well). He
said, simply, "I learned." After more prodding, he admitted
that his father had taught him many building skills, and he
had taken practical subjects in high school and later do-ityourself
night-school courses. He also learned from his work
and read many how-to books. Similarly, my mother became
an expert in many areas simply by learning (courses, books,
friends, and family) and practising her skills.
I enjoyed the material benefits of their industriousness, but
I also questioned their lifestyle. It seemed to take an awful lot
of time and effort. What I didn't realize then were the financial
benefits of choosing self-sufficiency. Their lifestyle gave
them a huge head start in achieving security and freedom.
I wanted to have control over my destiny, just like my parents
did over theirs. So rny goal of early retirement and my
determination to meet that goal started early in life, when
most teenagers were thinking about future career possibilities.
My parents believed that a university education was the best
option, and the pressure was on to choose high school courses
that would complement my future university discipline. That
fateful discussion with my father went something like this:
Dad: "Do you know what you're going to want to do with
your life?"
Me: "Not exactly." (I was 14!)
Dad: "You're going to have to narrow it down. There are
two basic areas for the professions: science and math. You
could be a doctor, engineer, lawyer, or chartered accountant.
You won't take biology, so that leaves out doctor, and you
didn't like physics, so that leaves out engineering. You could
still be a lawyer or a C.A."
Me: "Do I really have to go through all that university
and become either of those? I'll probably get married and have
a family, anyway. Until then, what about art? Singing, dance,
and art are my favourites."
Dad: "The arts are fine for a hobby, but you can't expect
to earn a good income in that area, and you may never get
married, so you will have to think about being able to support
yourself. What else do you like?"
Me: "Money."
Dad: "Well, yes. Then how about accounting? You could
be an actuary or a C.A."
Great. Something to look forward to. It was my first realization
of the unpleasant things to come. By the process of
elimination, and the encouragement of my well-meaning parents,
I was to become a number cruncher.
FIRST STEPS
Recognize the difference between needs and
wants.
Be aware that wants are limitless.
Control money — don't let it control you.
Money is only a medium of exchange: you get it
or give it for something of value.
Value basically equals time and/or effort.
Time and effort are precious limited resources.
Risk must be assessed in any financial exchange.
The act of saving is omnipotent.
Savings are generated in two ways:
— paying out the least for the most; and
- keeping a high percentage of all sources of
income.
Practise delayed gratification: first earn, then
spend.