Pancake Night and Baked Bean Sandwiches Spawns an Entrepenieur

I didn't know my family was poor when I was growing up until I was well into my 30's. There were lots of tell-tale signs but either I was too dense to know or I didn't want to know. I think it was probably the latter.

In our family, every Thursday night was Pancake Night. It was a big coincidence that Pancake Night fell on the night before payday. But the ingredients where plentiful and always in the house. We never went hungry but I knew my parents struggled to make it from paycheck to paycheck.

Food became the barometer of my parents wealth. Saturday night was steak night (makes sense as it was the day after payday). As the payday got further away, the meals became less robust, culminating in the famous Pancake Night. My mother would get quite creative at lunch times and to this day, I still love a baked bean sandwich. I know, it sounds weird but she would take Wonder Bread and butter it and then smash Bush's Baked Beans in as the filling. Don't knock it until you try it! Every once in a while I get a jones for the comfort of a good old baked bean sandwich!

The funny thing is that I never ever heard my parents discussing money. None of us kids knew how much money my father made. Being children of the Depression, my parents main goal was to have more than their parents and provide more for their children. My father saw it as a personal failure if he was not able to give us something we wanted. Perhaps I was an overly empathetic child but I sensed that it broke my father's heart to say no so it was my personal goal at an early age to not give him the opportunity. I don't think I understood it 100% when I was a kid but my need for financial independence was a combination of not wanting to put my father in the position that he couldn't do something for me and also not putting my parents in the position of saying no to something I wanted. If I earned my own money no one could tell me how to spend it, right?

I was a regular Donald Trump with my entrepreneurial drive. I had many different businesses growing up from lawn care to babysitting but it was in 1977 that I built a kingdom out of rope. It was the year of macrame. I started with less than $5 seed money to buy some basic supplies and made as many macrame planters as I could. Then I went door-to-door in my neighborhood and sold my inventory and took custom orders. At 13-years-old, I knew how much profit I made on each piece. I actually made more profit on the fast and easy basic designs that I could make in bulk then I did on the custom pieces. The most detailed custom piece was a hanging table made with a giant piece of cut cypress about six feet in circumference. The time and effort it took me on that piece along with the high-end beads and rope made it one of my most expensive custom pieces at $350 but ultimately I would end up losing money if I paid the labor (me!) an hourly wage. I barely covered cost of supplies.

And then I learned how to make the pot-bellied owl hand towel ring. Sales went through the roof! These towel rings were made with a special macrame rope that you knotted through the body of the owl and unravelled it. Then you took a wire hair brush and teased the heck out of it until it was fat and fluffy. I couldn't keep up with the orders. The summer of '77 was all about the owl and I seemed to spend every waking moment making these horned creatures.

The demand for these owls was so huge that I had to hire an employee -- my mother! In addition to paying her 20% of the profits made from each owl (she still wore her hair in a teased up bee-hive a la Priscilla Presley and had much experience with teasing). Plus I also paid my parents room and board. It was only $50 a month and I'm sure it cost a lot more than $50 a month to feed me and house me. I was proud to pay that to my parents.

The laws of supply and demand caught up with me and the bottom fell out of the macrame business. Meanwhile in the world, the bottom was falling out of lots of things in the economy. Remember the lines for gas? But I had caught the bug for independence. I was no longer looking for a little pocket change but I was anxious to pay my way. Also, paying my own way gave me (or so I thought) the unwritten, unsaid permission to do what I wanted. I stopped asking if I was allowed and my motto turned into a philosophy I still use today. It's better to ask for forgiveness later than permission now!

I would continue to be blessed to have a job (or jobs)...knock on wood! I give my parents credit for jump starting my work ethic. Just think, it all started with pancakes for dinner and a baked bean sandwich.