I think as we grow older; which by the way is not for the faint of heart, we begin to reflect more. I guess partly because we have more to reflect upon. Does that take away from forward thinking? I think more about recording the past in some way, in order to keep from losing it.
I remember in my younger years, I just wanted to forget the past and focus on the future, which for me, was to work more hours, in order to amass more material goods.
I have become a business owner, starting out young. I remember as early as eight years old. I read on the back page of a comic book that I could purchase all-occasion cards from a company in White Plains, NY, and sell them to my friends, relatives, and neighbors. All I had to do was come up with the seed money – I’m thinking $20. I’m not remembering what I did to earn it, but earn it I did – mowing and raking lawns, and delivering papers, probably.
My best friend, and next door neighbor, Marc Ciriello, had a paper route and I helped him deliver. He earned $30 a week! Holy crap, that was a lot. Because he was a year older, he sold his route to me. I was in the delivery business even then.
I also caddied at the Fairlawn Golf and Country Club, and occasionally at the Firestone Golf and Country Club (a PGA course).
The reason I was so driven by money was instilled in me by my Dad who made it so painful for me to ask for money. Mostly I had to earn it by cleaning the mortar off of recycled bricks that he wanted to use on the outside of the house. He paid me a penny a brick. I remember having to be taken to the hospital because a chip of mortar embedded itself into my eye when I put a hammer to chisel.
So when I asked my Dad for money, he would take out this enormous ledger book and open it. Imagine this old, crusty, gray, monstrous book, making a creaking sound as it opened, like a basement door, opening upon a black abyss in a horror movie. Then, slowly, carefully, accurately, he would write, Jim, 1 dollar. How painful is that? It drove me to earn and never ask him for money.
Consequently, it led to me working for money, and more of it. I worked at a bowling alley at 12 years old, fixing and removing lodged bowling pins in the machines. Then at thirteen, I took on a second job at the filling station next door to the bowling alley. My Dad said I was too young to be responsible for closing the station at midnight on the weekends, but I did it anyway.
I became an assistant janitor at a Catholic 1-8 grade school – age 14. I did that until I was 17, while at the same time washing dishes in restaurants and other jobs. Then, I lied about my age and got a job at St. Thomas Hospital in Akron, OH, as an orderly. My best friend, Marc had become an orderly and I wanted to be like him, plus the work was interesting, and it was helping people. It paid, $1.21 an hour, and that included uplift for working evenings while attending high school.
I was one of the few that owned their own car in high school. The problem was that I had to work; Monday, Wednesday, Friday to pay for the car. Then I had to work Tuesday and Thursday to buy gas for the car. Then I had to work Saturday and Sunday to have money when I got to where I was going. So what did I have to say when my friends said; let’s go out Friday night? I can’t, I have to……go to work.
It took years for me to hear the words my father repeatedly told me; son, get your money situation over early in life, so you can then figure out what life is really supposed to be about.
The money situation is still not to my liking, but I have definitely figured out that life is not about work!