IT'S ONLY MONEY

My father often quipped, “What are you worried about…it’s only money.” Those words always registered with a pensive puff from my weary mother. The scene is as clear as day to me now.

My parents, raising four children in the 1940s and 50s, didn’t have spare change from my father’s hard-earned money. Not only did my father work as a letter carrier for the U.S. Postal Service (see The Jolly Postman blog post, dated August 23, 2022, at sharonmarkcohen.com), but he also took on part-time gigs, such as light trucking, to supplement his government paycheck. My mother remained a stay-at-home mom, meticulously handling the household chores.  

Undoubtedly, my father was equally concerned, but in his jovial way, he was attempting to calm my mother’s nerves when an unexpected bill came in. As a child, I heard the conversations, although sometimes they resorted to speaking in Yiddish to keep us in the dark. Regardless, I felt secure and loved, and, as my mother contently uttered in her final days, we always had food on the table.

When termites ate the support beam of our current home and the work to repair the old damage entailed massive amounts of electrical and plumbing work, remembering my father’s words gave me a certain sense of tranquility. For now, we still have food on the table. Hopefully, the termites ate their fill, and we’ll know from no more damage. 

With that, I think of the current homeless situation in our country, not to mention the hunger in the rest of the world, and wonder what those parents tell their children to calm their nerves and stave off their hunger. I’m sorry my father’s levity cannot solve those ills.

Homeless scene in Hawaii