Money Matters

I have always been kind of cheap.  Really, I re-gift like a pro and have a drawer full of presents – all bought on clearance – that I put in used gift bags with recycled tissue paper and can still deliver with the sincerity of a 1960’s Welcome Wagon hostess.  My friends all know this – at least they do now – which explains why they insist I take them out to dinner for their birthdays and they pick the restaurant.

 How I got to be this way is one of life’s mysteries.  My Dad was the most generous man I’ve ever known, yet somehow his generosity gene escaped me.  This is a guy who gave 1% of his small business’ gross income to an impoverished village in Haiti for decades, built schools throughout South America, supported orphanages in Romania and secretly paid utility bills for dozens of my hometown’s underserved.  He bought bikes for kids who didn’t have them and sent kids to college who couldn’t afford it.  He said once that the check he wrote to the Haitian village each month was the only bill he didn’t mind paying. 

 And thinking about him now, I realize he did teach me to hand over the Visa when it was really important.  In fact, here are three times in the last year when I’m glad now that I parted with my Benjamins:

* When my then-fiancé and I flew to Ohio on Dad’s birthday last August for a religious betrothal ceremony because he was too ill to attend our wedding.

* When I spent an idiotic amount of money to hook Dad up to a speakerphone, hidden behind a ginormous bouquet of flowers, during our October wedding so he could at least hear us get married.

* When I flew home last month as soon as I heard Dad had just a few days left, rather than waiting another day or two to save a vacation day.
  
 As I commit to weaning myself off of my stingy ways in 2008, I’m realizing that it’s an attitude thing, not a dollar thing.  (I routinely spoil myself with the finest goodies life has to offer so there’s plenty of water in the well.)  So last weekend I actually paid full price to buy a friend her birthday present.  It seemed like a lot of money to pay for soy candles, but I discovered that as I open my wallet a little more, my heart opens up a little more too. 

       I miss my Dad terribly but I’m thankful that I’m not haunted by “if only.”  And I’m not trying to tell you how to spend your money.  But I am saying that sometimes spending a few bucks along the way for someone else just might prevent some regret after it’s too late. 
      
       Thanks for the lesson, Daddy.  Rest in peace.