One of the greatest gifts a parent can give a child is to teach them how to manage their money.
It’s a lesson I’m in the midst of with my daughter, J. At her age (17), the equation is pretty simple: Summer Job + Money Earned = Car. Obviously, there’s a learning curve but – after several missteps – I think she’s starting to catch on, albeit grudgingly.
She’ll thank me later. OMG, my mother used to say that! Which is appropriate. My knack for money management came from her, and she learned it from her father – my grandpa.
He was the patriarch of my extended family. The reason Grandma cooked a big, Italian meal that brought us together on Sundays. And I was the apple of his eye. His first-born’s first born, and the only granddaughter. To Grandpa, I could do no wrong.
When I think of Grandpa, I remember loving bear hugs, church, cigars, mixed drinks, American-made cars and Al Jolson tunes. During his lifetime, he was a radio personality, a bartender, an auto parts salesman, a battery expert for the U.S. Navy’s Landing Ship Transports during World War II, and a minstrel show performer. He was active in our church as an usher and “knight” and, to this day, when I go to church I feel like I’m visiting him.
Grandpa had a rich, booming voice that resonated when he sang around the house. He assumed the best of everyone, never met a stranger and was quick with a smile and firm handshake.
My continuing revision of Growing Pains allows me to return to a time when he was vibrantly alive, seated at the head of the dining room table, asking for my permission to have his customary, post-meal cigar.
I miss him, but I’m doing my best to ensure his legacy continues. Which is why J is going to learn how to efficiently handle her money. She may appreciate my efforts later, but it’s really Grandpa she should thank.
It’s a lesson I’m in the midst of with my daughter, J. At her age (17), the equation is pretty simple: Summer Job + Money Earned = Car. Obviously, there’s a learning curve but – after several missteps – I think she’s starting to catch on, albeit grudgingly.
She’ll thank me later. OMG, my mother used to say that! Which is appropriate. My knack for money management came from her, and she learned it from her father – my grandpa.
He was the patriarch of my extended family. The reason Grandma cooked a big, Italian meal that brought us together on Sundays. And I was the apple of his eye. His first-born’s first born, and the only granddaughter. To Grandpa, I could do no wrong.
When I think of Grandpa, I remember loving bear hugs, church, cigars, mixed drinks, American-made cars and Al Jolson tunes. During his lifetime, he was a radio personality, a bartender, an auto parts salesman, a battery expert for the U.S. Navy’s Landing Ship Transports during World War II, and a minstrel show performer. He was active in our church as an usher and “knight” and, to this day, when I go to church I feel like I’m visiting him.
Grandpa had a rich, booming voice that resonated when he sang around the house. He assumed the best of everyone, never met a stranger and was quick with a smile and firm handshake.
My continuing revision of Growing Pains allows me to return to a time when he was vibrantly alive, seated at the head of the dining room table, asking for my permission to have his customary, post-meal cigar.
I miss him, but I’m doing my best to ensure his legacy continues. Which is why J is going to learn how to efficiently handle her money. She may appreciate my efforts later, but it’s really Grandpa she should thank.
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