money money money
growing up poor is a curse and a blessing…
it has made me paranoid of being poor the rest of my life, yet hasn’t helped me better understand or wrap my head around better financial planning….it’s made me more sensitive to how I view the world, and family life…and sometimes harshly or not so much…judge others… and myself.
the other day my oldest brother gave us younger brothers an impromptu lecture on spending…and in recent days both my parents have done similarly… I know times are tough, and it’s not like I or we go out of our way to not pitch in and carry our own, but I think sometimes the elders just assume and think the worse that you’re being young and shirking responsibility. sometimes I feel/get bitter about the past, or the present…that/when my younger brothers were spoiled and didn’t have to pick up their own slack around the house on finances…but I also know that we’re all wiser now and we’re not all ungrateful or not helping each other anymore either….
it angers me to wrestle with these things, especially when someone is nagging me about to do so.
poverty can foster empathy, I think.
someone once asked me why I was so generous, where did I get it from?
I knew the answer right away. it wasn’t far.
one of my earliest memories was being a poor schoolboy in California.
we were so poor and on welfare all those years…I had no idea how poor we were until now.
when teachers would have designated snack times for us once in a blue moon where we just lounge and watch a movie in class on a Friday afternoon…everyone’s parents packed them cool snacks…all my mom could afford was some cheap candy popcorn and soda…which is fine. I loved it. and some of the cheapest and greatest snacks we made at home was simply dipping white bread into soda.
we were so poor, some of the things I looked forward to most were free food…
like school carnivals, or most importantly….the academic awards for reading books…back then you could win free meals from Pizza Hut or Burger King/McDonalds for book readings.
one time there was something going on at school…and they gave out free ice cream….
I went back for round two…the teenage boy handing them out at first refused, and said each person only gets one ice cream, but his father came over and ordered him to give me a second ice cream. that is one of my earliest memories. and that has stuck with me for life…that is why I constantly pass it forward and am very generous. but don’t worry…I’m not a pushover either. don’t get on my bad side, lol.