Whilst discussing financial matters with my 33-year-old son yesterday, I began thinking about some of the economic circumstances of my early life, as compared to what is considered "normal" today.
I was the fifth of five children (Good Catholic Family), born in 1949 when my father was 35 years old. For the first 5 years we lived in subsidized housing (now would be called, "Section 8") in Pittsburgh's "Hill District," which was then as it is now, depressed and mainly "colored."
When I was 5, my grandmother was in financial distress because her only income was SS (about $60/month), and she couldn't afford the upkeep, utilities, and taxes on her house. That house was in East Liberty, also a rather depressed area. So we (7 of us) moved into Grandma's house, with the understanding that my parents would pay for some needed repairs, keep up the house, pay the taxes, and the house would eventually be put in joint ownership with my mother so that when Grandma died, "we" would get the house. The house was worth about $5 thousand at the time. (Now, with inflation, it's worth about $50 thousand).
My parents never had a savings account. We never went on a vacation. We ate in a restaurant exactly one time before I went into the service at age 19 (my mother had been injured in a car accident and couldn't cook Thanksgiving dinner). None of my siblings went to college. I went for one year, gave it up, and went into the Army. My parents' contribution to my education at that time was this: As long as I was a student in good standing, I didn't have to pay room & board at home ($15/wk). Although I ended up with a BA, MBA, and JD, all were done after I was financially emancipated, and they never contributed a dime (not that I ever asked them). Yet we didn't apply for any student aid because my father considered the questions on the application too personal, and he refused to fill it out. "Going away to school," was a concept that was as remote as going to the moon. The only schools under consideration were the ones that I could walk or bus to.
My mother died of a stroke in 1969, and she had been in charge of managing the family finances. Unknown to my father, she had taken out loans just to pay for food and bills. It seems that when my older sister and brothers had left home and stopped paying room & board, there was not enough money coming in to keep the wheels turning. Again, there was no savings account. Dad had to borrow money for Mom's funeral. It took him a decade (more or less) to get out of debt, at which point his "net worth" was the house - worth about $15 thousand by that time. He sold the house and lived with my wife and I for the rest of his life.
Although there were many times in my childhood that I was disappointed that I couldn't get something because we couldn't afford it (eventually one learns to stop asking), I never thought of myself as being "poor," and in fact such an assessment by a friend would have brought about a fight.
And with all of this in memory, I hear working-class people talking about how a family of four can't live in a three bedroom house (we boys slept four in the same room), or borrowing a mountain of money so their kid can go to a private college out of state, or vacationing at Disney, or leasing a new Ford Explorer (or whatever). When I've said to friends that their kid (or grandkid) ought to try Community College, or go into the service before college, they look at me like I'm crazy.
My parents used to buy a 4-year-old Chevy or Ford, keep it until you could see the street through the rust in the floorboards, then buy another 4-year-old Chevy or Ford. It's all we could afford - and if truth be known we couldn't even afford those old junkers.
WTF? People really seem to feel "entitled" these days.
I was the fifth of five children (Good Catholic Family), born in 1949 when my father was 35 years old. For the first 5 years we lived in subsidized housing (now would be called, "Section 8") in Pittsburgh's "Hill District," which was then as it is now, depressed and mainly "colored."
When I was 5, my grandmother was in financial distress because her only income was SS (about $60/month), and she couldn't afford the upkeep, utilities, and taxes on her house. That house was in East Liberty, also a rather depressed area. So we (7 of us) moved into Grandma's house, with the understanding that my parents would pay for some needed repairs, keep up the house, pay the taxes, and the house would eventually be put in joint ownership with my mother so that when Grandma died, "we" would get the house. The house was worth about $5 thousand at the time. (Now, with inflation, it's worth about $50 thousand).
My parents never had a savings account. We never went on a vacation. We ate in a restaurant exactly one time before I went into the service at age 19 (my mother had been injured in a car accident and couldn't cook Thanksgiving dinner). None of my siblings went to college. I went for one year, gave it up, and went into the Army. My parents' contribution to my education at that time was this: As long as I was a student in good standing, I didn't have to pay room & board at home ($15/wk). Although I ended up with a BA, MBA, and JD, all were done after I was financially emancipated, and they never contributed a dime (not that I ever asked them). Yet we didn't apply for any student aid because my father considered the questions on the application too personal, and he refused to fill it out. "Going away to school," was a concept that was as remote as going to the moon. The only schools under consideration were the ones that I could walk or bus to.
My mother died of a stroke in 1969, and she had been in charge of managing the family finances. Unknown to my father, she had taken out loans just to pay for food and bills. It seems that when my older sister and brothers had left home and stopped paying room & board, there was not enough money coming in to keep the wheels turning. Again, there was no savings account. Dad had to borrow money for Mom's funeral. It took him a decade (more or less) to get out of debt, at which point his "net worth" was the house - worth about $15 thousand by that time. He sold the house and lived with my wife and I for the rest of his life.
Although there were many times in my childhood that I was disappointed that I couldn't get something because we couldn't afford it (eventually one learns to stop asking), I never thought of myself as being "poor," and in fact such an assessment by a friend would have brought about a fight.
And with all of this in memory, I hear working-class people talking about how a family of four can't live in a three bedroom house (we boys slept four in the same room), or borrowing a mountain of money so their kid can go to a private college out of state, or vacationing at Disney, or leasing a new Ford Explorer (or whatever). When I've said to friends that their kid (or grandkid) ought to try Community College, or go into the service before college, they look at me like I'm crazy.
My parents used to buy a 4-year-old Chevy or Ford, keep it until you could see the street through the rust in the floorboards, then buy another 4-year-old Chevy or Ford. It's all we could afford - and if truth be known we couldn't even afford those old junkers.
WTF? People really seem to feel "entitled" these days.
