I grew up in a middle class household where middle class values were always kept in mind. Despite my father’s progressive income from his job as a systems (IT) manager for a fairly large construction company, my parents instilled middle class values in me and my two siblings. Our parents gave us everything we needed while stressing the differences between us and spoiled children.
Still, there were times that I can look back on now and see that we weren’t so unspoiled as I may have suggested up to this point. Christmas was a big deal for us. I can remember circling everything I wanted for Christmas in the Toys R Us catalogue every December with my little sister, 3 years my junior. We generally got 90% or better of the gifts we requested. Were we spoiled on Christmas? Maybe not by today’s standards, but I certainly think our parents gave us more than we probably deserved.
I can remember tennis shoes being an important materialistic possession growing up. Friends and neighbors of mine would show off their $100 pair of Nike’s and laugh at me for wearing a modest pair of off-brand tennis shoes, bought for a fraction of the cost my friends’ parents were coughing up every year, not to mention for multiple children. My brother still talks about how embarrassed he was when my mother bought him a pair of shoes, off-brand of course, that had “5,000s” in the name. I guess “5,000s” was supposed to convince kids that the higher number, the cooler the pair of shoes. Unfortunately, the Nike swoosh is all that mattered to our generation.
Most of my neighbors were middle class as well, and a number of the households ostensibly managed the class status because both parents were working. My mother, however, did not work while we were growing up. She was (and still is) an amazing housewife and mother, who cooked a hot meal for us 9 times out of 10. Her famous, yet seldom declaration of “fend for yourselves” meant that no hot meal would be served up for us that night and we would have to make a sandwich with lunch meat or heat up leftovers in the microwave.
A close friend of mine, who I’ve known since preschool, and who was raised just up the road from me in our oddly extended neighborhood, lived in a middle class household with both parents working, and an older brother, two years his senior. It was sometime between grade school and junior high that I discovered his parents’ combined income matched that of my father’s. The revelation made me proud of my father, but I did not gloat or act like I was above my friend or any friends for that matter. I did not think less of my friend’s parents either. After all, despite my father’s fortunate income, everyone knew that a pair of brothers, mutual friends of ours in the neighborhood, had parents who owned a supermarket in town. Their house was the largest in the neighborhood, and they had an in-ground pool with a hot tub.
With that in mind, I’m happy to report that our mutual friends from the big house never gloated or showed off their status. They shared their games, welcomed us all into their home, and were the obvious products of good parenting; parents who instilled the value of hard work in the mind frame of their children.
My high school classmates came from far more diverse backgrounds. I had friends who lived with only one parent whose single-parent income was likely blue collar, though the job itself gave the appearance of middle class income. That is, they worked in an office, front desk at a hospital, etc, but were paid blue collar salaries.
Other friends and classmates had fathers who were mechanics, police officers, or worked in an office setting, and mothers who were housewives like my own. There were certainly classmates of mine whose mother and father both worked and still only made a combined income of $40-45,000/yr. Nearly ten years out of high school, that reality still exists for some of today’s younger American households.
My middle to upper-middle class status (as I mentioned before, my father’s income grew substantially as I progressed through high school) had an average impact on my educational aspirations in high school. I knew college was where I’d end up, but I had a less conventional idea as to where I’d be in five years and how I’d make a living (touring musician). In a way, the combination of my maturity level (the typical teenager’s) and the perception I had of my father’s stressful office job, led me in the opposite direction of that which one might expect a person with my background to pursue.
My feelings changed after the pizza shop I worked for--since the summer after my freshman year at college--came under new ownership sometime in 2006. My hours were cut back, as was my hourly wage. It was around this time that my father introduced me to the idea of taking a job with the company he worked for. By the spring of 2007, I was sent down to Cheshire, OH, to work as an office manager in a construction trailer at Kyger Creek, a coal-fired power plant.
The combination of my hourly wage and monthly per diem put my income--after taxes & 401K deductions--slightly above the median of the U.S. (middle class!). While I saved, I also spent more than I should have. I guess you could say I splurged because it was the first time I had earned enough money to support myself and my girlfriend, and still have enough left over to save, buy things we wanted, go out to dinner, etc. Did my values change? Not really. I still new the value of a dollar. I still new the value of a hard day’s work. I certainly wasn’t being handed a paycheck for nothing. I just wasn’t mature enough to think about long-term goals, and therefore I wasn’t prudent enough to save more than I actually did. By the time the economy went south and a lay-off was knocking on my door in June of 2009, I regretted my financial naivete.
On the other hand, a friend I’ve known since high school has always managed to save his money. In high school he was reading books on how to manage one’s money. He’d buy Reese’s Cups at Garbriel Brothers for a quarter a piece, and turn around and sell them for a dollar each in class. He’d grab a handful of napkins from the lunchroom cafeteria and sell them to classmates for a few nickels when they needed to blow their nose and there was no box of tissues in sight. I once saw him lick a piece of hard candy off the cafeteria wall for ten cents and a few pennies while the entire study hall watched in disgust. I credit his parents for his responsible and disciplined frame of mind, but I doubt they’d like to take credit for the candy on the wall incident.
My friend didn’t go to college. He joined the Air Force immediately out of high school, and he’s been to Kuwait/Iraq probably half a dozen times. He bought a house in Georgia, but last time I talked to him I believe he said he had moved to Missouri. When he’s home for the holidays, we see each other about every other Christmas or Thanksgiving season. I can still remember talking to him during lunch in the cafeteria when he told me he planned to retire by the time he was 35. He’s the cheapest person I know, and I’m going to hold him to that assertive aspiration.
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