Character Building

HAVE YOU THOUGHT about what made you the person you are—the way you think about money, life, your behaviors, your likes and dislikes? When I look at my own life, I can clearly see the impact of my childhood.

My mother and grandmother made a lot of my and my sister’s clothes. I recall those paper dress patterns all over the apartment. Is that why I dislike shopping for clothes? I’m happy to let my wife and daughter decide what I should wear. The notion of shopping is an anathema to me.

Neither my parents nor my grandparents went to college. In fact, college was never mentioned in my house. Instead, as the Silhouettes sang, “get a job” was the order of the day. Is that why I never thought of college until I got out of the Army, eight years after high school? Or why I vowed that our four children would go to good colleges—and it was my responsibility to pay?

My father worked 12 hours a day, six days a week. For most of my youth, he wouldn’t get paid if he didn’t sell a car. I worked nearly that much myself. I worked at home after a day in the office and on vacations. I always had my laptop handy. As I saw it, hard work and creating results were the ways to move ahead.

Is there any doubt why I have disdain for quiet quitters, who someday will moan about not receiving what they deserved from their careers? Surveys say 50% of workers do just the minimum to get by. We used to call them losers.

My father was forced to retire at 66, and then my parents lived on Social Security alone. I vowed never to be in that position. I stayed with one employer, earned a pension, saved, invested and worked until 67.

I lived in a small apartment until I got married. Taking care of a house, inside and out, was never my forte. Is that why I break out in a sweat within 100 feet of a Home Depot? Is it why I pay experts to make repairs? I wasn’t unhappy leaving our house of 43 years for a condo. Someone asked me how I could leave all the memories behind. The memories didn’t reside in the house—I have them all within me.

My parents were affected by the Great Depression. They had no trust in the stock market and so never invested. Banks were not to be trusted, either. What modest money they had was in a checking account. I began investing when I was 18—not successfully at that point, but consistently thereafter. My parents would be shocked at my financial position today.

My parents were frugal. My mother never wanted to spend money. She reused aluminum foil. My parents never had a credit card. I consider myself erratically frugal. I agonize over a small purchase and then spend thousands on something else. It’s worse the older I get. I use credit cards just to earn rewards.

My mother was a real homebody, never wanting to go anywhere. She once refused to go to Germany on a trip my father won in a sales contest. I always felt sorry for him. Is that why I can’t stop traveling? I know the one regret I’ll have is not seeing more places. Still, I’ve ridden a camel in Morocco, kissed the Blarney Stone and placed a prayer in the Western Wall in Jerusalem.

One of my grandfathers was cool and detached. I have no memory of him coming to our apartment as a child. Neither my grandparents nor my parents came to my Little League games or school events. Is that why my wife and I spend many happy hours in retirement attending grandchildren’s soccer, baseball and lacrosse games, band concerts and other activities—and why we did the same for our children?

I think I know what made me me. Have you thought about what made you you?

Richard Quinn blogs at QuinnsCommentary.net. Before retiring in 2010, Dick was a compensation and benefits executive. Follow him on Twitter @QuinnsComments and check out his earlier articles.

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