My dad was a farm boy.
After the barned burned down the farm was lost to dereliction and time.
So he enlisted for Korea and earn a GI-Bill degree in English.
At the age of 30 he learned that people were supposed to put their money in banks so for his birthday he opened his very first checking account.
Mom was a Baptist ministers daughter.
“I’m the Baptist Minister's Daughter” was how she would introduce herself to total strangers.
Were it not for the minister’s residences provided by the various churches she and her 3 siblings would have been homeless.
The Montana farm boy and the ministers daughter set out to create a new life eloping 9-months pregnant with $250 between.
Somewhere there must be a joke in that but I think it was on them because that happy union only lasted 6 years.
My sister and I grew up in publicly subsidized housing, on and off food stamps and various other county programs.
One of my earliest resentments occurred when a social worker appeared at the front door clipboard in hand to make sure A) The lights and heat were on b)The toilet flushed and C) The fridge wasn’t too empty
By 13 I had a probation officer.
Mom and Dad spent their final years in separate mobile homes in SOCAL having never owned a stick framed house or much of anything else other than a car payment.
Unsurprisingly, I grew up with a mindset of scarcity with “We can’t afford that” as its founding principle.
A major AHA! moment occurred when that turned around to “How can I afford that?”
This didn’t happen until 2011 so it’s kinda your fault, Gary, that it took me so long!
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
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