Incredibly Wealthy

Incredibly Wealthy

When I was a teenager, my father and I had an argumentative relationship. It seemed to me that whatever I said, he took the opposite side. We had some epic arguments. One that especially sticks in my mind is the question of our family’s economic condition.

I maintained that since I couldn’t have everything I wanted we were poor. My father countered that we were NOT poor; we were incredibly wealthy. You can imagine my astonishment. What was he talking about? 

I looked around my crowded house. All three sisters shared one bedroom while my three brothers shared the room next door. My father’s father, my mother’s mother, and the six of us shared one bathroom. My closet was pretty empty. My friends wore the latest fashions and rode three-speed bikes. I wore a school uniform (which I hated) and still rode my “little kid” bike.

We didn’t go on vacations or eat in restaurants. Sure, we visited family and were fed until we burst, but how could homemade pasta fagioli compare with a Big Mac or trips to Disneyland? We didn’t snack because there weren’t any in our pantry. We had dessert on Sundays only — a half-gallon of Neapolitan ice cream which disappeared in a swirl of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry in seconds. 

Our clothes and furniture were hand-me-downs. We watched the picture on one TV set but heard the sound from another picture-less one perched on top. My father hand-built our stereo and we all crammed into our old station wagon whenever we traveled.

Where did my father see wealth in this picture? 

After I stormed about a bit, I confronted my father again. Where was this wealth and how was I missing out on it?

 He told me. I didn’t believe him then, but I understand now.

He said, “You have your health.” 

My father suffered from ill health most of his life. As a child, he had severe asthma. He spent his early years trying to breathe. As a young man, he lost a leg to cancer. He survived because he had to — he was a husband and father to five young children. Now we were six, all healthy, and he fathered like any other, teaching us to ride our bikes, coaching Little League, and flying kites while on his crutches with his inhaler in his pocket. 

He said, “You have your family.” 

My mother cared for her husband, six children, her mother, and her father-in-law without complaint. She worked in and outside of the home yet still bagged every lunch and cooked every dinner. My siblings, as annoying as I thought they could be, were (and still are) my closest friends. Our huge Italian family loved us with a passion. I had more cousins than I could count.

He said, “You have your faith.” 

We attended church as a family every Sunday. The gifts under our Christmas tree may have numbered fewer than our friends had, but the reason we celebrated was engraved in our hearts. 

He said, “You have laughter and joy.” 

We had Nonna’s “practical jokes” — putting our shoes away where we would never find them (our closets) and mixing up our dozens of socks. We had Grandpa’s symphony of whistles. We giggled our way through dinners and family car trips. We sang — oh, how we sang! 

He said, “You have love.” 

Never in my life did I not feel loved. My father argued with me, but I knew he loved me. My busy mother loved me. My annoying siblings loved me. My grandparents loved me. My innumerable aunts, uncles, and cousins loved me. And I loved them.

Incredible wealth: family, faith, health, joy, laughter, love.  My father was right. We were incredibly wealthy. 

I hope you and your family are too.