By Mark Heeter

Photo by Oleksandr Pidvalnyi

The early days

It begins like most others, in its deep connection and relationship to my parents and family. My money story begins at around eight years old, when my father was laid off from the company where he worked for nearly 20 years. I remember that being a big deal and a strain that it caused, as he remained out of work for a couple years.  

During that time, I took on a paper route at the age of nine, beginning my string of jobs, working, and a career that continues today. I learned how to earn it, and I learned how to blow it. I was nine, after all. I think this was also about the time my mother went to work, to help pay the bills, I imagine. My older brother and sister also delivered papers and progressed into their teenage jobs, as my younger brother did behind me.

My dad worked for a couple years in a job that I imagine he didn’t like very much. Then he was hit with another layoff that led to another multi-year unemployed spell, lasting into my high school years. This knocked him backwards into a job that didn’t carry any prestige, in his mind, but helped put food on the table. His self-esteem and sense of financial security never recovered. One of the artifacts I have kept since he died is his card for collecting unemployment from all those years ago.

Mom worked, and she probably worked harder than I’ll ever know. She learned a career in insurance and succeeded for more than 20 years. But running through all of that, she provided for our family and was the primary breadwinner, while we were growing from small children to launched adults. She navigated strange financial decisions that my dad made, like buying brand new cars one after the other in pretty quick succession, and continuing to place a high priority on his vices. Our money troubles definitely weren’t invisible, but mom softened the blow.

Looking back, I don’t recall any “money fights,” but hindsight tells me a lot of the fights they did have must have been rooted in their financial strain. Money trouble spreads very quickly and can consume and rip apart families. But we have to learn somewhere.

The turning point

A defining moment in my money story, when I learned a pivotal lesson, was many years later and is seared into my memory. I was in the Army. I had just returned from a deployment and had a stack of cash that I was pretty self-impressed with. I had met a wonderful girl, and Kirsten and I both remember and laugh to this day, when I told her how much money I had: a whopping $3,000. That number I remember. Look at me, the big shot with three grand.

Kirsten knew that I bought things with my credit card, though. I don’t remember this number exactly, but I do know how small I felt when I followed that by telling her I had, I think, $2,000 in credit card debt. Wait a minute, I thought, doesn’t make my bank account so impressive. To her, it definitely was not.

She grew up in a different culture and obviously in a different family, with vastly different experiences. These three critical factors – the culture, the family, and the experience – had pushed her into adulthood with a completely and unquestionably different relationship with money than mine.

Something changed that night. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but the tables turned.

Shortly after that, I moved on from the Army and began my life and commitment to Kirsten in earnest. I got a job, first as a contractor for a few months, then into the government, where I built a career and remain to this day. I was always working. I began to earn more money, but just as importantly, I adopted Kirsten’s philosophy about financial responsibility and have since had a much different relationship with credit cards. And with improving the amount of money in my bank account.

The growing money story

From the earliest days of my career, I decided that I was going to save. I think it was my first boss, who I consider a close friend to this day, who told me to save and invest. I listened. I also realized that once Kirsten and I were married, and then had one son and another, I was going to join them in trying to build a healthy financial life. We needed each other to do that.

My money story has been very, very far from perfect. I have made many financial mistakes, a couple of them pretty big ones, and countless more that were smaller. But I always learn from them, and that has served me well, I think. For example, I learned how to buy a house high and sell it low, making my gain on the sale just about as small as I could. The buy was in a moment of FOMO. And the sell was in a moment of “this is too complicated, we’re running out of time, and let’s just get rid of it.”

Our next buy and sell went much better.

That’s my money story’s essential point, one that I think we can all appreciate. Learn. Keep trying. Make mistakes. Learn again. We’re all doing the best we can. We have moments of irresponsibility and moments of just not knowing what we’re doing, when it comes to our money. There are things in our money story that we can control, and those that we can’t.

Our money stories began very young, with the people we love the most. Money can make as many things possible as the lack of money can make impossible. These are stark differences that young children and their friends in the neighborhood can sharply see at a very tender age.

My oldest son is a fine young man, through college, out on his own, deciding things about his money, and making an even bigger difference in the world than the one he was making yesterday. I enjoyed being able to explain to him what a Roth IRA is, and making sure he knows he has to file his state income taxes, too, not just pay Uncle Sam.

His younger brother’s in high school, hasn’t started to earn his own money yet, but he will soon. He knows how to spend, though, and that’s perfectly fine. I can kid him about it. He appreciates the value of money. I want him to learn that spending will someday be an enjoyable byproduct of his hard work, and he’s supposed to enjoy that. With a guard rail here or there. 

Their money story – just like Kirsten’s – is different than mine. I only hope it can be a good one, with a great plot in the middle and a little bit of happily ever after.