By Hana E. Zumstein
As far as money is concerned, I’ve never cared that much about it.
When I would receive money on birthdays or holidays, I’d place that money in a box and leave it there with no plans to spend it. When I was 10, I did spend some of my money on an oil lamp and a teddy bear, but I can’t remember a moment as a kid when I would save up for soething specific.
My parents made sure that my siblings and I had everything we needed, which could explain my lack of yearning for spending or saving. New shoes, clothes, and the occasional new toy wasn’t just a treat, but something I expected. My feet grew a size and a half over the summer? Mom was on it. Whenever my shoes got too tight, she’d come home with new shoes for me.
While my parents did make sure that we were unaware of any financial struggles they might have had — largely because they never spoke about money at all in front of us — it ended up being money that destroyed the family that I grew up with. At least that’s what it felt like.
My grandfather — my dad’s dad — owned a small bakery in the less desirable part of town. He had worked for other bakeries for most of his life, and finally was able to call this one his own. He employed my parents full time, as well as my dad’s other siblings occasionally. If I remember correctly, my parents were the only employees that stuck around long term.
My mom handled billing and finances, and my dad worked in the kitchen. My grandpa would occasionally help in the kitchen, but he was better as a salesman, according to my mom.
I remember there was an office big enough to fit a playpen for my siblings and me when my parents weren’t able to find daycare for us. I would wake up from naps to fresh cookies or sweet bread. During lunch time, my mom would let me eat with her at her desk, and I remember that made me feel like a grown up. My grandpa would let me help in the kitchen by having me stand on a footstool so that I could knead dough on the counter. The bakery was a second home for us.
Birthday Mourning
Then, right before I turned 8, my grandpa passed away. It was a couple of days before my birthday. While I remember a lot of family visiting with cake and presents for me, I knew they were visiting to attend his funeral. I won’t forget blowing out my candles over the cake my dad made, and seeing how so many of the faces around the table didn’t look happy. They were celebrating my birthday, but mourning the death of their father, brother and grandfather.
I don’t think I believed he was really gone at the time. He was loud and boisterous and I always felt like he would walk through the door at any time. I still feel that way at times.
My grandmother — grandpa’s wife — hadn’t worked in decades. She only went to the bakery on occasion while running errands or to say hello, but wasn’t much of a baker herself, let alone a business owner, and had plans to put the bakery up for sale. My parents offered to buy the bakery from her, and she agreed. My siblings and I were elated to hear this news. My grandmother told me that she felt like this would keep my grandfather’s spirit alive in that building. In the weeks that followed, I would walk around the bakery kitchen talking to my grandpa as if he never left.
Then, back at home days later, I remember my parents changing into business-looking outfits. The neighbor came over to watch me and my siblings while my parents met my grandmother at the lawyer’s office to sign the paperwork for the bakery. I was standing in the entryway of our home when I heard my mom sobbing upstairs.
Sobbing, incoherent speaking on the phone, my mom tugging at her just curled hair — that’s all I remember from that day. My siblings recall my dad shouting on the phone and asking us to go play outside with the neighbor. I don’t remember that, but I do know that that’s the day when my family fell apart.
My dad’s siblings weren’t happy that my parents were purchasing the bakery. They felt like it should have been given to all of them after he passed. Whatever they told my grandmother, it prompted her to call my parents and rescind the deal. I had picked up the kitchen phone to listen in on the conversation and heard my grandmother say something unsavory about my mother’s race. I don’t think I understood it at the time, but it explains her sobbing.
Days later, the lawyer called back and said that my grandmother wanted to sell the bakery to them after all. It turns out that if she gave the business to all of her children, she probably wouldn’t make any money off of it. None of the other siblings were interested in actually purchasing the business, and my grandmother wasn’t interested in working, so she made the decision to sell based on the advice from her lawyer.
New Reality
Ultimately, my parents acquired the business, but it wasn’t the same. They weren’t happy at first. My grandfather had left the bakery with a lot of debt that they weren’t aware of, and the toll it took on their relationship was noticeable. In the years that followed, my parents struggled with keeping the bakery afloat while trying to pay the bills.
Eviction notices, thrift shopping, and “poor man” meals became the norm. My favorite dinners from that period of time were noodles cooked in olive oil and pepper, cooked sausage with melted American cheese between slices of white bread, and ChiliMac, macaroni and cheese mixed with chili. My parents will recall this period as a time of struggle, but I didn’t see that at the time.
I remember calling my grandmother and leaving voicemail after voicemail asking if I can sleep over or make cookies like we used to do often, but she never called back. One of my younger siblings lamented at dinner how much he missed grandma. My mom said I chimed in and said something along the lines of, “Grandma doesn’t love us anymore.” We wouldn’t see her again, or anyone else from that side of the family, until we were teenagers.
I remember thinking that money ruins people, and if it weren’t all about money, our family would still be a family. We would still be going to grandma’s for holiday dinners, Easter egg hunts, and family game night, but we weren’t invited for the next several years. By the time I was 16 and we were invited to a Thanksgiving dinner, I didn’t feel connected to anyone. I was angry at them, in fact.
I didn’t see the connection at the time, but as an adult, I struggled with the emotional aspect of money. I was one of those college students preaching to my friends that money is a construct forcing us to believe that we need more in order to be happy, and I would always use the story about the bakery to reaffirm why I believed that, if only privately.
Ebb & Flow
Looking back, it’s no surprise that I got myself into a substantial amount of debt. But it wasn’t because I was spending a lot of money, rather I wasn’t paying my bills on time. This racked up a lot of fees and penalties, and I was already so afraid of becoming “money hungry” that it took a few more financial hits before I began taking my finances seriously.
Even faced with a myriad of consequences, I would get a panic attack while trying to write and mail a check, often waiting until “tomorrow” to do it. It took years of unlearning the idea that “money ruins people’s lives,” and “money is a construct I don’t need,” before I could have a semblance of a healthy relationship with my bank account. But it wasn’t until my car was repossessed — while I had more than $20,000 in savings — that I decided to make a concerted change in my behavior.
I’ve reshaped that childhood belief that money ruined my family into, “People that I loved valued money more than they valued their relationship with me, and I accept that.” In a way, it feels like my younger self has found peace in that situation. As my therapist would put it, I’ve learned that it wasn’t money, but people’s individual decisions that caused the rift between us. Money management is a lot easier now.
My parents still own the bakery. They were able to expand and purchase a new building a few years ago, and hope to keep it running a few more years before retiring. While they’ve developed a relationship with my grandmother and my dad’s siblings again, it’s not the same as it used to be. My siblings and I have had little interest in renewing a relationship with them, and I suspect that won’t change, although now I do reach out to my grandmother occasionally for a phone call.
I’ve learned that paying bills on time — although can be stressful — is also rewarding. I’ve also learned that the decisions I make can make a lifelong impact on others, so I’m mindful of the value I put on money and the decisions I make because of it.
But the most important lesson I’ve learned is to talk about money. Talk about the good stuff and the not-so-good stuff. Are you budgeting because money has been tight lately? Talk about that with your kids; let them know that finances can ebb and flow just like everything else in life.
When kids become adults, they begin their adult life with the lessons learned from their parents and other influential figures. If those lessons aren’t taught, then adulthood becomes more complicated.
