A Budding Entrepreneur
Little ears can learn big ideas and beliefs.
Age is Deceptive
As a first-born grandkid, I spent my earliest years with adults. I was fascinated by their conversations and would listen in when they thought I wasn’t.
For the most part, grown-ups think children are merely thoughtless minions, to be attended to and kept “in line”. Barely visible. I was there however, to learn and they were just learning to raise me.
The 5 year old me, riding to my Aunt Carol’s in the back seat of my grandparent’s Pontiac, remembers the conversation from the front seat. Aunt Carol had married into an Italian family, the owners of 3 department stores in the 60s of central New York..
“Okay… no talk about politics or religion!” says grandpa.
He was a generally quiet, self-confident, retired Army nurse. He hated confrontations and arguing, until the drinks brought out his Scotch/Irishness. Then it was ON!
My grandma was a good 14 inches shorter than grandpa, but never shy of speaking her mind. She seemed to secretly enjoy a little chaos at our family get-togethers, and would take the safety off triggers to “motivate” conversations.
“Well, I agree. But they holler so much!”, was grandma’s reply, speaking of her sister’s family.
“They yell about mismatched socks or if it is raining. They’re Italian! Just let it go!”, was my grandpa’s final word on the subject.
Later, after the inevitable feast, whiskey sours were made, beer cans popped and cards were dealt. Fin-Pitch, Pinochle, Hearts, Spades, etc., were the games of choice, until things devolved into Charades….
As the only mobile shorty around, I would hang and fetch, watching how adult playing worked and hearing how conversations progressed. I was asked to sit in when someone had to get up from the table for a bathroom break, beer run or kitchen duty and eventually became a passably good card-player and learned to converse with adults (and when NOT to), even if they were slightly buzzed.
I got three truths and a secret weapon from these discussions.
Religion is unique to each person’s perception of it. So, arguing about it is futile.
Politics are another form of religion.
Italians are loud!
Grandpa was right! But my grandmother’s method of instigation was fun, too. Her slick ways of tossing in a word or phrase was like adding a candle to a simmering fire. A secret tool that has been in my pocket since.
“Religion’s in the hands of some crazy-ass people!” ~ Jimmy Buffett
I have carried these early lessons with me into my so-called adulthood. Though I feel spiritual, I leave the religion up to what is comfortable for them and I rarely comment on politics outside this house.
And I love Italian people, food and culture. They are like a welcomed wind on a hot day.
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Pocket Change
My family was always entrepreneur-ish. My first step-dad was an exceptional salesman who was always looking for opportunities, and a sucker for gadgets or a sales pitch. My mom is a force of nature when it comes to organization and a whiz at promotion. Together, they were in and out of the countless businesses, pyramid schemes and sales gimmicks that the 1970s spawned. Shaklee, Rich Plan, Amway, Mary Kay, Herbalife, you name it...
We moved frequently. At least once a year, it was joked that the “rent was due”, so we moved. I was not privy to the exact reasons. I was more concerned with starting at another school and the monsters that went there.
I found that having change in your pockets opened up more options. So, I hustled and found items that I could clean up and resell at my mother’s famous, ongoing garage sale, berries and apples that I could pick and sell door-to-door, wood to chop, snow that I could shovel. At 12, I worked at an aunt & uncles sub and pizza joint, washing dishes, cleaning, and eventually cooking. Allergies prevented me from lawn mowing and bringing in hay, which was fine with me.
My earnings were mostly spent on things every growing kid needs; model cars, gifts for family, a bicycle, a Hostess Apple Pie at the school cafeteria, and in my teens, an occasional sack of weed.
It seemed a logical progression in my family, where everyone worked for themselves, regardless of who cut their checks. My immediate family, aunts & uncles, second-cousins, etc., were hustling themselves. They were not “company people”. They were not union minded.
They were family strong, always supporting each other’s hustle du jour whenever it came up. We bought our clothes at Alfred’s Bargain Center, my uncle John’s store. We ate at family or friend owned restaurants. The brands we bought depended on the companies my kin were currently representing.
We always had a pile of samples somewhere in the house. Discontinued product lines, a pallet of peach/berry yogurt (slightly past the sell-by dates), single shoes that would become a pair when dad met up with another rep with their mates.
So, my idea of business coincides with my concept of family. I will always consider what my family of friends are doing when angling to spend money.
Support your budding entrepreneur! Happy Labor Day!
DustyNewt World ~ A map of where I have shipped my woodstuffs. See if your town is represented.
If you are enjoying what you see… I like it hot and black. 😉
Always an enjoyable read! It's nice reading about the grandparents, especially grandpa, who I have very little memories of. Good stuff, my man, once again!