I dont know exactly why I am on this tangent. My stubborn, loving grandfather Fritz j. Peterson was a Swedish immigrant, and like most Swedish and German immigrants of the time was a republican. He wasnt well educated. my relatives didnt have servants, they were servants. And I am a proud working class boy. my grandfather was the chauffeur for Col. David C.Dodge, a founder of the denver and Rio Grande Railroad. He lived in a mansion that had an elevator. My grandfather lived above the garage, my grandmother was a domestic servant in the house and my mother, like Sabrina, grew up in these circumstances. My grandfather worshiped Col. dodge and was rewarded in the middle of the depression, when col. Dodge died, with a $10,000 inheritance. He saved half of it and spent the other $5,000 to buy a house at 859 South Gaylord St. In Denver, in which he lived until his death in 1973. when he left the Dodges, he went to work as a carpenter and cabinetmaker for the D&RG. He stayed there until he retired at 65. My grandmother didnt work outside the home but was well employed as my bossy grandfathers cook and housekeeper. my grandparents were very careful with money, not only because they remembered the Depression so well but because he did not earn a lot of money. I believe he never made more than $8,000 a year and with that--and by being thrifty--he was able to lend money to my mother and father and to lend me the down payment on my own first house in 1972. His penny pinching annoyed me. He didnt have a checking account because he couldnt stand the fees, he paid his bills in person and in cash. He would walk a mile to avoid putting a penny in a parking meter. I didnt realize it but such stringency allowed them to spoil me. my father is a different story, but everybody I knew was more affluent than we were and that was even true in a working class neighborhood in Salt Lake City. my friend Morris and I lobbied for the same christmas presents. he got better stuff and I was regularly informed that we couldnt afford things. When my grandfather died, he had no debt, he owned a house and a car and had $25,000 in the bank. When my mother died she had his house, a car and $80,000. She was not college educated, my father was a liability and my mother had worked all her life as a secretary at the veterans administration. Learn how to type, she told me, because you will always be able to find work. And I did and she was right. I type for a living, too. When my mother died in 183, I got and sold the house and I got the 80 grand. I was able to enjoy the fruits of their labor. They certainly had never spent much on themselves. Im not sure what the moral of this story is, but my advice to younger friends is: do what you want to do when you want to do it. Pleasures you deny yourself now are experiences you will never have. Why deny yourself so your ungrateful children can buy the Maseratis.
Posted on: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 19:31:01 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015