lifelessons

Boom Boom’s Life Lessons #17

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One of the many gifts that Boom Boom gave us was the torrent of quips about how one leads one’s life.   He could say so much by saying so little.   A statement at just the right moment resonated in my young, eager eardrums.  How I interpreted or applied it was up to me.  No more words were spoken because no more words were needed.

Today U.S. Government Series EE Savings Bonds as an investment are about as popular as Donald J. Trump is in Portland, Oregon as a president.  But way back in the 1960’s and 1970’s they were backed (and still are) by the full faith and credit of the United States and paid about eight percent interest per year.

And way back in the 1960’s and 1970’s Boom Boom brought one home every other week in his briefcase.   I just didn’t know it.  I didn’t know it, that is, until one evening after supper.

In Lesson #4 we shared that on a couple of weeknights each week he finished dinner and headed to our spare bedroom that housed his desk, his adding machine, my mother’s exercise bike, and most of all an undersized pool table.  Yes, it was crowded.  He needed to do some “book work” he always said.  He struck the adding machine keys so quickly that it was not possible to follow.

His one and only son loved playing pool (competition and geometry combined is a tasty combo) and asked for him to”crack em” almost every night that his own homework didn’t get in the way and after his father’s “book work” was completed.

But this particular evening was different.  Boom Boom asked that I help him with his book work.  At the tender age of eight or nine I had no idea what that meant.  I had no idea until he took the bond out of his briefcase and pulled a short stack of them with a rubber band around them out of his top drawer.

“Son, these bonds are going to pay for your college.”  “College?” I stammered.  You see the dollar amount in the corner of each?”  “Yes.”  That will be how much each is worth when they mature.  And almost all mature seven years after you buy them.”  “Mature?” I asked.  “Yes.  I buy them for half of what their face value is.”  “Face value?”  “It’s the dollar amount in the corner.”

“Where do you get them?”  “Don’t worry about that.”  “Let’s add them up together to see how we are doing.”  “Ok, Dad.”

From then on every two weeks we would add another fifty or sometimes even a hundred dollar one to the growing stack and cross out the total to write down the new total.

“Save your money, Son.”  I heard that refrain every two weeks as the rubber band went “whack” around the stack.  “When you need it for something down the road you will be able to afford it without borrowing.  Save your money, Son.“

Boom Boom’s Life Lessons #16.

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One of the many gifts that Boom Boom gave us was the torrent of quips about how one leads one’s life.   He could say so much by saying so little.   A statement at just the right moment resonated in my young, eager eardrums.  How I interpreted or applied it was up to me.  No more words were spoken because no more words were needed.

One of the positive learnings that came out of being raised Catholic and attending Catholic schools was learning to give back, or to volunteer for worthy causes.  Back then an optional group for men to join in that effort at their parish church was called “The Holy Name Society.”  Members met one Sunday every month after church to discuss past, present, and potential future endeavors that they collectively voted on as worthwhile to help the a person, family, or community in some way.

From that was born “The Junior Holy Name Society.”  Young and eager to emulate Boom Boom, I joined the group the first year that you could at age 8.  All of the fathers and sons would meet as the main group, then the two would split to hold their own meetings for a few minutes.

Boom Boom rose to the level of President a couple of years later.  I was in awe that he could speak in front of a group of 40 or so, and led them through many charitable endeavors.  His sincerity, combined with his knowledge, captivated his audience and much good came from that.  I liked being in the big meetings more than being with the juniors just to watch him.

One meeting’s main topic was the decision to rebuild a part of a widow’s house damaged by yet another strong summer southern storm.  There were some dissenters and disagreement voiced throughout the time spent on how to and the cost to do so.  Repeatedly Boom Boom called on others and others to voice their thoughts on specific parts.  We(he) even brought in a couple of construction guys to be able to answer some questions.

Through it all Boom Boom barely spoke.  He only asked questions along the way.  It seemed like an odd meeting to this 10 year old.  Driving home I asked, “Dad, why didn’t you talk more today?”  “I don’t know much about remodeling nor plumbing son.”  I sat clueless for a minute thinking about how this was different from his approach in the other meetings.  “Yes you do,” I thought and said.  “No, I don’t.  It’s important to know what you don’t know.”  

I didn’t know then that my dad didn’t know everything about everything.  But, now, looking back, I realize that he was smart even when he wasn’t.

 

Boom Boom’s Life Lessons #14

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One of the many gifts that Boom Boom gave us was the torrent of quips about how one leads one’s life.   He could say so much by saying so little.   A statement at just the right moment resonated in my young, eager eardrums.  How I interpreted or applied it was up to me.  No more words were spoken because no more words were needed.

Growing up, Daniel Joseph “Rusty” Staub was my favorite MLB baseball player.  Born and raised in NOLA, he signed with the Houston Astros for a then crazy 100,000 dollars in the early sixties.  Our family and his were friends.  My dad introduced me to him at an early age both in person and through the TV and newspapers.  I was hooked.

He went on to play in four decades (late 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, and early 90’s) for five teams (the Mets twice), amass 2700 plus hits, and late in his career set a modern-day record for pinch hits.

Growing up my conversations with Boom Boom were plentiful.  Rarely did one occur that didn’t start or end in baseball.  Rarely did one occur without a subtle or not so subtle lesson imbedded in it.

“Rusty went one for three last night Dad.  What’s his batting average?”  “Get a pencil and paper son and we will figure it out,” he suggested.

“Can we drive to Houston and watch Rusty play for our vacation?”  “Let’s sit down tonight with your mom and see if that’s what we want to do this summer.”  “We could go to AstroWorld too!”  “Sounds great son.  It’s a family decision, let’s talk to mom.”

“Why did the Astros trade him to the Montreal Expos, dad?”  “The Astros must have thought they were getting value back son.”  “What does value mean, dad?”  “Value means getting equal or better in return.”

In my teen years, “Why did Rusty turn down 2.5 million dollars over five years from the Mets, dad?”  “He asked for $200k a year for the next 20 years instead Wally.  He is setting himself up for the rest of his life son.”  “What does that mean?”  “Get a pencil and paper and we will figure it out,” he again suggested.

Rusty never held out for more money.  He never had a bad word to say about another teammate or coach. He never got tossed from a game.  And, most of all, he left the game with his head held high.  Over time he became a favorite of many for how he conducted himself on the field, in the clubhouse, and in life.

Happy belated birthday to Rusty!  He would have been 75 on Monday, April 1st, or April Fool’s Day.  But, Rusty was no fool.  He didn’t know it, but he helped Boom Boom teach an eager beaver a thing or two about sports, life, finances, and growing up “the right way.”

It’s great to have heroes in life.  It’s greater to have one that you can learn a lot from.  It’s greatest when you can share that hero’s journey with your ultimate hero in life.

 

 

 

 

Boom Boom’s Life Lessons #13

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As the summer of 1978 waned a big change in life was staring me in the face on a muggy mid August morning.  It was moving day.  I was headed 80 miles northwest of NOLA to start my freshman year at Louisiana State University.  Packing took all of ten minutes.  Three pair of shoes, clothes, toiletries, bed linens, and a backpack were all that were needed (not wanted) to share a small dorm room.

After mom and Boom Boom helped me get settled we were off to lunch, a bank, and a few words of encouragement prior to their return trip home.   At the bank branch Boom Boom took out 5 crisp $100 bills and handed them to the bank manager.  “Open up my a checking account for my son please.”  Soon I had a few temporary checks and a blank reconciliation ledger in my hands.

“I’ll walk back to the dorm so that you all can head out.”  “Call me if need more money this year son,” Boom Boom announced.  “How will I know?”  “Balance your checkbook” was the quick retort.  “I don’t know how to do that dad.”  “I would suggest that if you think you are ready to attend college and live away from home that you learn quickly. You should always know where you stand.”  “Ok, but how?”  “Subtract your checks and add your deposits.”

With a hug from both the Oldsmobile started and backed out of the parking place.   They stopped next to me as I began my walk back.  The window rolled down and mom said good luck once more.  Boom Boom said “balance your checkbook” once more.

It sounded like it was time to grow up.

Boom Boom’s Life Lessons #12

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One of the many gifts that Boom Boom gave us was the torrent of quips about how one leads one’s life.   He could say so much by saying so little.   A statement at just the right moment resonated in my young, eager eardrums.  How I interpreted or applied it was up to me.  No more words were spoken because no more words were needed.  Today, to kick off 2019 is a personal favorite.

After parking in the spot of his choice came the one mile walk to Tulane Stadium in the New Orleans Saints first years.  Boom Boom was sometimes a buyer and frequently a seller of excess tickets to each home game.  I was but 7,8, and then 9.  I watched.  I listened.  I learned.  He sometimes sold them for more money than other times.  He rarely sold to the first person he encountered.  He always kept the better seats for us.

One Sunday morning early in my tenth year and the Saints fourth year we turned the corner onto Willow St.  The stadium was quite visible a few blocks down.  The crowd, though still somewhat sparse, already had the supply and demand side represented.  He stopped cold.  From his coat pocket came three tickets.  “Son, put this one in your back pocket.  It’s the seat next to me.  Take these two and sell them for us.  I’ll see you in the stadium.”  “Ok,” was the best I could utter.  Quickly he strode into the distance.  I felt alone, all alone.

I bounced from one opportunity to another and then I made the sale.  Excited, eagerly I made my way to the stadium and then to the seat next to dad.  Have your sandwich he said.  “But,” I countered.  “I’m talking to this gentleman next to me son.”

Eventually he turned back to me.  “Well, how did you?”  “I sold them for $4.50 each.  I got $9.00,” I beamed.  He looked at me for what seemed like forever.  “Ok, son, I’m glad you sold them.  But, I don’t think that you got fair market value today.”

Fair.  Market.  Value.   Fair.  Market.  Value.   The words ricocheted around in my cranium like a pinball gone rogue.   I had no idea what those three words strung together meant, but it didn’t sound too good.

I wanted to ask.  He wanted to talk about the soon to start game and all of the strategy that the home team might employ.  And, so we did.

The lesson was more about getting “it” than it was about what “it” was.  Wasn’t it?  I’ve chased Fair Market Value and then some ever since.