Less than three years ago, I shared some personal stories about the most important people in the beginning of my life—my mom, dad, and siblings. They all loved me in their own way. The years I spent with them taught me so much, one lesson was that these people helped to inform my relationship with money.
It was much easier to write about my family members' money story, (maybe that’s why I haven’t written a blog in nearly 3 years), than writing about the lessons of my own relationship with money. My reluctance to write about it is that I could come across as a know-it-all. The look on my children's faces when I go on and on with my wisdom is a dead giveaway that I can produce boredom in others. So, my story must be embellished to the point where I can make something up that is fun - or at least heartfelt. I recognize there is a spectrum of uncertainty that is in all my life stages, including where money has a role. I don’t underestimate the fear I have felt during this journey. Nor can I ignore the uncertainty of outcomes I often confront, when I don't know exactly what is going to happen.
In these blogs, I’m offering a glimpse through the window of me— questioning myself, my life, and my future. They will cover the major milestones in my adult life, from my journey to college up until today. All
of my major life events included different degrees of fear, and the solutions to overcome the fear was uneven at best. I am still on this journey, aided by lessons of the past. Initially, I’ll start with my first time away from home.
It was the Fall of 1987, and I was moving to Minnesota! The Twins were on their way to a World Series
win and I was on my way from rural Nebraska to Central Minnesota in a new (to me) 1978 Mercury Monarch with only an AM radio. In retrospect, the days leading up to my drop-off in Collegeville were a confusing mix of my emerging ego and a deep worry as to whether I was going to “make it”. My parents and older brother Jim dropped me off. I suspect everyone could sense how worried I was but I acted like I didn’t have a care in the world. The first person I met was a fellow Nebraskan. I thought, “Oh wow, this is so cool.” As we went to shake hands, I dropped the shoebox of cassette tapes I was holding. The only cassette that fell out of the box was a
Dionne Warwick tape! The little street credibility I had, evaporated. I tried to recover by muttering something about my mom putting her tapes in there. My first potential friend, a fellow Cornhusker, just walked away. “My god, I am doomed. Why couldn’t Mom have been listening to her Willie Nelson cassette?” I wished. (First ego blow!)
Even though my ego was deflated, I continued to finish the move on that Fall day. My parents and I went to Mass in the most amazing worship structure that was built by the St. John’s Abbey. It was time to say goodbye to my mom and dad. My mom and I walked arm and arm to the car and she was warm and happy for me. She and I, the last of her eight children, had done our grieving in advance. My dad was walking some 30 yards in front of us by himself to the car. I didn’t think much of it until as he turned to face the passenger door, we saw him weeping. This was unexpected and rare and then I started crying. We all hugged each other. I knew I was loved. They slowly drove out of the lot. It was then I felt a kernel of confidence in my resilience to walk through fear and come out all right. I collected myself, turned toward my dorm, and did what most 18-year-olds do: I celebrated my independence. I was as excited about this as I had ever been. I met Dave, my roommate, who was about to be a most patient receptor of my naive exuberance.
I knew no one at St. John’s University (SJU) when I arrived but soon started to meet so many great people. Slowly but surely, I made some great connections. My classes were amazing and I soon learned that I was not in high school anymore. I remember my first Theology exam. As soon as I sat down to take the exam I read the first question and thought, “wait, what did that say?’ I took a deep breath and reread it. Again, I was not clear. I skipped it and moved onto the next question to settle my escalating nerves, again nothing. Five questions in and I only had one shaky answer. A sense of panic as I took the exam blinded me, so rather than drawing on proper preparation of the material, I did the next best thing. I prayed for the Holy Spirit to come down and take the test on my behalf. Here arrives ego death knell number two. Oh wow, “Time to get to work’, I thought.
I planned to play basketball for SJU. Back then, there was no organized off-season training, you just showed up and got in shape. In the first week of being on campus, I walked down to the gym to see who was playing. There were a lot of future teammates in a pickup game, running around, hitting shots and strutting their stuff. These players were better than anyone I played with and against in high school. I remember thinking in a point-blank way - I am not going to be good enough. After a few practices into my first season and I knew that wasn’t true anymore. However, I carried around that uncertainty for six weeks prior to the onset of our first practice - another blow to my already pounded on ego. In retrospect, I needed this to build strength within uncertainty and be comfortable in the uncomfortable notion, that whether I wanted to or not, I had to forge my own path.
All the things I was unclear about are too numerous to mention in one installment, but there is one item in particular. MONEY! I was in charge of my own. I had less than I preferred and I could not figure out how some 19- year-old kids had brand-new cars. How were those few affording Heineken at the bar? How much money did I need for the weekend? How much money for gas? How much money for my trips to St. Cloud to stock up? I knew things back home were tight, so I tried to be judicious. I could stretch a $5 bill a long way on Saturday night. I took the bus a bit more. I loaded up at the cafeteria before a night of studying. It all seemed to work out because it had to. There is wisdom in making scarcity work. I knew I wanted to make the future different. I just had no idea how. My relationship with money changed during my four years at SJU. Like the rest of my life, it had its ups and downs. I think the metaphor of money and the term “value” as it relates to spending took shape then. I started linking what I cared about and what was meaningful to me and how money would play a role in that.
Uprooting from a familiar place to a completely unfamiliar one left me uneasy. I felt more exposed as I wasn't sure what my success would look like. I dug in and started to discover some extraordinary things rooted in an ethos that was substantive and fun. I'll talk more about this in my next writing.
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