Mrs. Foley was my first banker and my second grade teacher. She was entrusted with giving each pupil a small manila envelope and blue imitation leather bankbook for their weekly deposit into what was most likely each students first bank account.

Second row from right. Second seat.

My intermittent deposits resulted in accrued nickels and dimes that amounted to almost nothing. I wasn’t that kid that saved for a record player, nor did I cough up my paltry savings to UNICEF.

As kids the only money my sisters and brother and I asked for was for ice cream when the bells of the Good Humor truck rang outside our house. We weren’t given an allowance, and we didn’t care. My parents gave us everything we needed. We didn’t know enough to want anything more. My Dad successfully managed our household finances, and took on the responsibility of caring for us all. When I was growing up It was uncommon, if not unheard of to teach children about managing money. I left home not even knowing how to write a check.

My Brilliant Grandmother

Tillie was my maternal grandmother. She immigrated to the United States from Poland with the skills of a master seamstress. She gained her expertise growing up on a farm with her parents and eight siblings. They ate only what they grew, or breed, and then slaughtered. Her family had no money. No family had money in the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe; however, my grandmother had an inherent fiduciary talent.

Classic Machine

She earned a living as a dressmaker in America, and was a determined woman with a laser focus on excellence. At the age of sixty-three she earned a high school diploma so as not to appear uneducated. Wikipedia describes Mr. Potter (the fictional character played by Lionel Barrymore in the film It’s A Wonderful Life) as a business man with the ability to manage, plan and keep order. My grandmother had those skills.

She Kept Track

Her splendid knack for handling dollars and cents came naturally, and she reveled in the management of money.

Lace

My grandmother was widowed at age forty-nine. Her emotional loss was devastating, but she had the means, the knowledge and the aptitude to take care of herself financially. At the end of each month Tillie would remove the lace cloth that covered her dining room table and work on the protective plastic tablecloth underneath. With the precision typically reserved for instruments laid out in an operating room my grandmother placed her check book, bills, stamps, a “scratch” piece of paper, and a single pen on the dining room table to begin the monthly ritual of reconciling her accounts to ensure her financial security. No calculator. My grandmother was able to account for every single penny she either spent, gifted or saved.

After notating every transaction in the check registry she would lick each stamp, neatly address the envelopes, include her return address in the upper left hand corner, and place the neat stack of now paid bills on the kitchen counter underneath the phone, so that in the morning she would be ready to “go down” and mail them.

Make Believe

During my decade plus marriage a business manager made funds seem like Monopoly money to me. I signed off on tax returns, but didn’t really know what I was signing. My then husband, much like my father had done in my childhood, managed the money. In my marriage money seemed to simply appear. My children had everything they needed, and I had everything I wanted.

My Girl’s Handmade Sweaters

With my three very young daughters in tow, I sheepishly sat at the branch manager’s desk of a Santa Monica bank where many celebrities did business. A large bowl of candy on someone else’s desk across the room occupied my girls as the very gentle, very patient manager instructed me on how to manage my limited funds.

Mother Love

My tears and my shame in not knowing how to do this for myself (and now for my children) were obvious. The divorce changed my spending habits overnight.

Up Against It

While my grandmother took pride in her accounting skills I have no faculty for that, and even less interest. I know how much money I have (most of the time), but I don’t think I have ever balanced my checkbook. My mailbox overflows regularly, as I pick up mail only when I know the letter carrier won’t be able to stuff another envelope into the tiny box. To pay bills I scratch out addresses; scribble out checks, and slap on stamps. Some  are paid online, but I don’t like that method any better.

Uncertain Future

My process to manage my money is simple. Rudimentary as I have no stocks, no bonds, no investments, no property, no possessions that would be considered valuable, and no life insurance to speak of. If I retired tomorrow that fund would enable me to live comfortably until Tuesday. Unless something changes when I die my girls will not need a lawyer to interpret my will.

More to the point they will simply need to pay a visit to my apartment and divvy up the black and white remnants of my life.

I Love This Belt

A Cherished Accessory

Well Maintained

Cost More Than My Rent

28 Years Old

For My Girls

Only One of these

One of Two

Things I Wear Close to My Heart

My Black Books

White Read

My Little Girl

One on my right hand, one on my left

For the Girls

Love Tile

Enough for Everyone

M.D. In A Box

Love Note

My black on one side, brown on the other Hermes belt, an iconic Jesus and Mary belt, my collection of expensive black boots, black leather pants, purses, vintage black 60’s lamps, and my white milk glass collection.

That is the inheritance. But what do I actually leave to my much beloved daughters?

Transparent

To my darling M. Dixie (middle daughter) who looks like me, I leave her the face that will always remind her of how much I loved her every time she looks in the mirror. To my incomparable J.Lucy (first-born) I leave the bravery she possess that gives her the courage to say what she thinks and feels in a way that is respectful of others, but not dismissive of her own needs and desires. To my very dearest Zazu (youngest daughter) I leave the sense of vibrancy she has that propels her into the world with good humor and excitement.

Bound Together

And what do I really leave them? I leave them my good name. I leave them all of the people who will care for them and take their calls because they are my children.

Always Mom

I leave them with the certainty that while I probably will not leave them the means to be financially stable I left them with a rock solid foundation to love themselves.

The World for My Girls

To view Healing the World at the Frost Museum –  http://thefrost.fiu.edu/museum.htm

Jane Hart, Art and Culture Center of Hollywood Curator of Exhibitions will be featured as the Raw Writer on November 23rd.

If you would like to write Raw please contact me for submission guidelines.

BTW – On the bulletin board of my classroom photo is one of my first paintings. Three kids in Snow – third from left, top row.