Happiness? Perhaps not, but money can buy security

I first learned about money from my very Irish grandfather, James Toolan. Pop Toolan worked on the railroad, as my family put it, and was big on handing you a gorgeous, huge silver dollar from time to time.

As a 6-year-old, I didn’t have much knowledge of what I could buy with it, but I knew it had value by the “oohs” and “ahs” of my aunts and uncles, as I held it in my outstretched hand.

Back then, it seemed that coins whether it was a penny, nickel, or dime really meant something. Believe it or not, as a young boy I could go into any of the many neighborhood markets in Allentown and get two Red Hot Dollar candies for a penny, or for a nickel, I would buy a huge, gorgeous, delicious candy bar, or enough licorice or packaged sugar to keep my young motor running at top speed.

In the summertime, once a month, my mom would grace me with a half dollar. The half dollar was kind of like the silver dollar’s little brother, but still an impressive piece of coin. This meant I could swim all day and on a beautiful summer evening, and I could buy my version of the perfect meal at the pool’s concession stand.

You see back then; a half a dollar would buy you two of the best mustard-smothered hotdogs you ever tasted. Plus, I could get a snow cone and two pretzel sticks to smash the cone’s ice down until it became a cherry-flavored watery mix of heaven.

Can you imagine a waiter serving you a pretzel by cracking it in and half with their bare hands today? Not to mention the bees and flies fighting for a piece of the culinary action. But I enjoyed every bite at the concession’s well-used picnic tables. Ah, the good old days when germs were just part of our world and didn’t seem quite so life-threatening.

Back to my uncles. All of whom were about 10 years away from their return from World War II. They were laser-focused on one thing and that was making a living to support their young families. They were ironworkers, CPAs, business owners, salesmen, and grabbed any other work these tough-as-nails war heroes could.

This was baby boom time and houses needed to be bought, young children fed, cars to transport, with a little leftover to enjoy the fruits of post-war American life. It wasn’t easy, but it was heaven on earth from my perspective. We all felt we lived in the greatest country on the planet.

I learned more about the value of money when at 21 years of age, I got a job at Mack Trucks.

I bought my first home, a gorgeous row home to my eyes on St. Cloud Street for $19,000. A bit later, I bought a brand-new car for $2,900 and left behind some hard times following my father’s bankruptcy. I was back on my feet and grabbing my piece of the American dream. Maybe it wasn’t a huge piece by some standards, but it was big enough to put a smile on my face.

My concern about today is the dream that creates passion and love for this country is a much further reach. That same home is almost 10 times the amount I paid for it.

Yet wages have come nowhere close to keeping up with that pace. The greatest way to feel you own a piece of the American dream is the purchase of real estate.

After all, who can’t love a country when you own the very soil and whatever is beautifully constructed on top of it?

I’m watching cautiously what money can do on the international scale. I see more countries interested in engaging with China because of its financial prowess. I’m shocked to see so many longtime PGA pros jumping to the new Saudi-owned LIV group because the money is so abundant. Like it or not, money is power and can provide great influence.

Now more than ever, we’re competing globally, and the competition is fierce. You see, there’s no coasting in the 21st century. It’s now important to have the mindset of constant self-assessment in a world that’s moving at a rapid pace.

I know it won’t be easy, but here at home, I’m hoping in some way we can improve our ability to lift others up. To lift up those who may not be fortunate enough to have generational safety nets. To ensure that those who may have been left behind feel that they too own a piece of the American dream.

When I think back at my uncles and our family friends, many of whom were Italian, Irish, Jewish, Syrian, Puerto Rican and other nationalities, and who at most were on their second generation of American life, it was clear this became their country.

They loved it, and they would fight to the death for it.

So, I close with a well-known phrase, “Money can’t buy happiness” which is true. But it can buy security, and security can go a long way toward developing happiness.

The happiest people I know pursued a career to ensure security, and at some point, were at peace with what they accumulated and their position in life. Chasing money for money’s sake is a surefire way to miss the joy.

A well-balanced life of appreciative love can bring much happiness to families and be passed on for generations to come.