PART I: THE BACKSTORY
If you've been reading my blog for any period of time, you know that, for many reasons, we've had to be careful with our money for decades.
We knew what this was like as kids -- we both grew up in very modest circumstances.
The Brick's dad served in the Navy until retirement -- then went to work for a friend who owned a pest removal company. Unfortunately, Good Friend took advantage of Clyde's time and effort...and permanently affected his health.
Dad ended up doing some civilian work for the government, then had several heart attacks and was forced to retire again. His wife worked for the FHA (Farmers Home Administration) for at least a decade, to help keep bills paid. Clyde died in his early 50s; it wasn't until Mom married George, the father-in-law that I knew, that she finally became what you would call 'comfortable.' The Brick and his brothers and families became sons to George, who had no children of his own. And when he died, he left everything to Mom. Who had become so frugal, she in turn left enough to us to be able to pay off our house and begin a nest egg.
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My parents weren't far behind. Pa worked for a tractor sales and repair business my uncle founded. When he retired, the business went to his sons...and my dad, who had put in decades of faithful work as the service manager. One of the sons helped himself to business funds, and didn't bother to pay items like taxes and workers compensation. Finally the business was closed, and its assets put up for auction. My folks lost everything they had put into it...something that one son regretted greatly, and has tried to make up to his uncle and aunt ever since. (Son #2 could have cared less. Guess which one did which?)
The folks, fortunately, had paid off the farm when I was in high school. (It originally cost $10,000 -- a fortune to someone making $100 a week back then.) Dad worked the farm all those years, saving what he could. He ended up buying equipment at the auction for pennies on the dollar -- abetted by farmers who still wanted him to repair their equipment. Then he went into business for himself. In his late fifties.
That's what a sterling reputation for honesty and integrity will do for you -- even if you're not financially rich.
What my dad DID insist on, however, was saving a little each year, no matter what -- and carrying adequate insurance. When he died, more than ten years ago, the Mama was left reasonably well off. She rents out the farmland, and it -- plus their savings -- are enough for her to pay her bills, give presents to her family, and still have enough for going out to eat and a trip now and then.
What both sets of parents taught us was simple, but invaluable:
*It's not how much you make -- it's how much you spend.
*Always set some aside for emergencies. Even if things are fine now, something will come up.
*Save some money every year -- even if it means you have to go without temporarily. Even a little is better than nothing.
*Don't spend the money you saved -- ever. (Both our mothers were and are far too good at this. I wish the Brick's mom had splurged more. Shoot, I wish the Mama would treat herself more, as well!)
Finally:
*Your reputation is priceless.
Never, ever sell yourself out -- or short.
This was hugely important to both sets of parents. The Brick's dad stood up for neighbors who were being taken advantage of -- and not fighting back. And he paid for it...because those neighbors were black. (They were also good friends, something you didn't see much in 1970s North Carolina. But that was the way Clyde operated.)
The Mama and my dad refused to sell off their land in bits and pieces...because it was part of the family legacy. (My great-great-grandparents were homesteaders there, and Grandpa and Grandma Cumings lived there for decades.) They endured lower pay and crop failures, yet insisted that bills be paid first. The only vacations we went on were to visit family -- and we camped along the way, with few exceptions. Our idea of a lavish night out was the Thursday night root beer special at the A&W drive-in. (Dad finally took the Alaskan cruise he and Mom had always wanted, but was too sick with cancer to really enjoy it. He died not long afterwards.)
When the Brick and I got together, in 1981, we were both college students. I was living in the attic of a college professor's house, cleaning, looking after their daughter and walking the dog, in return for room and one meal a day. (Plus lunch, if I walked the dog again.) I graded papers for a little additional money, and my parents were covering my tuition. (I'd saved faithfully through high school for college, but that money went for my B.A. This was grad school.)
The Brick was wealthy, in comparison. He'd just come out of 6 years in the Navy, but his savings had gone for a new car (purchased on discount, because his brother was an engineer for Ford). However, he also got $400 monthly from the GI Bill. (I remember being stunned at how much that figure represented!) During the months we dated, he wined and dined me lavishly, with Greek salads, subs and Italian food -- delivered!! (I'd never had that before.) We went out to eat. We went to movies! He must have been a millionaire. (grin) I soon found out.
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| Yep, that's us. We didn't have a clue what we were getting ourselves into. But at least we were doing it together. |
When we married, the day after Christmas in 1981, 9 months after we first met, my M.A. degree was barely finished. (I turned in my Master's paper three days before. 'What are you going to do during break?' my professor asked. When I said I was getting married, he laughed -- he and his wife had done the same thing.) Our bills were paid, and we'd rented a cabin up north for our honeymoon. We only had enough extra cash for one day's worth of skiing, and maybe a meal out.
We'd packed groceries for the rest of the time -- and a tv to watch Michigan in the Rose Bowl. Which turned out to be a blessing -- a huge blizzard halved our guest list on our wedding day. We made it to the cabin, but ended up getting snowed in for several days. (Oh, the burden of having to stay snug inside with your wonderful new husband!)
We came home to the Brick starting up school again (he was barely a junior). We moved into an apartment so small, you could literally walk its length in a dozen steps. A surprise birthday party, with a dozen guests invited, meant that my brother-in-law spent the evening lying underneath the table -- to try and ease up the jam of people.
We had our classy Ford Mustang -- and a Kawasaki motorcycle. (My ancient Duster had gone to Little Brother, to help him at college.)
I had a full-time job, managing a church office. (For not much.)
The Brick had a part-time job as student engineer for the Michigan Union.
(For more than I was making.)
And there was that blessed $400 every month from the GI Bill.
But that was it.
(MORE IN PART II: LIFE)
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