SANDRA DEMPSEY POST

Financial situations were not something openly talked about when I was growing up. If they were, I didn’t hear them. We knew basics, but we also understood money conversations were private. It never occurred to me to worry about things like income, bills owed, house payments, or anything causing concern. My Mom was excellent with budgeting, and had firm beliefs about generosity, particularly for those struggling to make ends meet. My Dad had full confidence in her abilities, as did I, while learning excellent information and skills from her.
I worked my first job the summer after sophomore year in a small store next to a large apartment complex. A little bit of everything was sold there and shelves were filled with non-perishable food items, personal products, greeting cards, candy and more — all neatly arranged. At one side of the building were stools for sitting at the long counter that accommodated some 15-plus customers. Food was prepared for breakfast, lunch or dinner choices throughout the day. Customers watched their food cooking. It was a friendly, casual place to eat, whatever the occasion.
My job was to greet, be helpful, tidy up throughout the area, and be a cashier. I liked visiting with people and getting to know them, and I was very fond of payday. In 1964 my salary was a dollar an hour, and my Mom became my mentor. She was patient and committed as she introduced me to Financial Planning 101.
Terms like savings account, over-drawn, late fee, and other disturbing words were explained. It took practice, but I learned. And while my salary was modest, I knew properly budgeting money could provide generous deposits in my new savings account. Watching my money grow was very satisfying.
When school started in the fall, my paycheck was less, but I had made a good start. Financial goals weren’t completely established, but the discipline I learned was helpful. Not every purchase was necessary, and my Mom would gently point that out. I tried to respond gracefully, but sometimes grace was in short supply.
Flash forward to an engagement in 1970. It was always my plan to have children and be at home with them. My husband and I budgeted our money accordingly. We saved for a house, cut coupons, spent cautiously, and learned about true bargains. Even my Dad was very helpful, contributing information about ideal times to buy certain items and what stores offered best prices.
Some 52 years later, in home No. 3, we hired Marty, a dependable man, well-recommended to update our bathroom. It’s a cozy place needing a new look. Marty comes to estimate possibilities and cost. His figures sound reasonable. Kindly, but candidly, he responds to our questions, while explaining our bathroom is dated. I laugh, telling him I know it is, and I appreciate his candor.
Pride encourages me to explain why we didn’t make changes sooner, and sweet memories of my parents and their often modest choices make me proud. I learned their lessons well, and I’m certain they would agree on an upgrade. We have other rooms needing improvement, and I think the initial challenge is the hardest.
Perhaps photos and memories can remind us how
far we’ve come and how
grateful we are for lessons along the way.