A child knows when others have more — or spend like they have more

 MY issue with money is simple. I like it.

I don’t know if it’s the endless possibilities that I fantastically entertain, imagery of beautiful houses or clothing or jewelry. Or maybe just knowing that I could is what does it. And although I know that money isn’t that important, if I’m really open with myself, I’ll admit that it does draw me in.

Growing up there was plenty that I wanted. My parents worked hard and raised a large family, and money was not in abundance. But there was more to it. My father always cautioned us about living rich and not hanging our money on our windows. So we lived simply both because it was practical — there wasn’t so much money on hand — and also on principle.

As a child, though, it was hard to make that distinction. A child knows when others have more — or spend like they have more. A straight shooter, when my parents asked if I “needed” a sweatshirt or extra pair of shoes, I’d invariably say that I didn’t. I wanted it, sure, but I didn’t need it. And so it went; I asked only sometimes, and often was told no. Abundant wardrobes, childhood fads, and better brands were a nonentity in our home.