Thinking Out Loud

By Gerard Meister

I ran into a couple of happenings the other day, which illustrated just how much the world has changed and then again, how much it has stayed the same: I was in Starbucks getting my weekly supply of a couple of their superb coffees. My tastebuds over the years have become so sharp that I no longer drink single blend coffees. My favorite recipe is four measures of Sulewesi to one measure of decaf Espresso. And yes, I am a bit of a pain when it comes to coffee, but so is my wife (which is why my coffee madness works out and why we pack Starbucks’ supplies when we travel).

The bill came to a little over eighteen dollars and I remarked as the cashier swiped my credit card, “Gee, that’s nearly the price of my first car!” Everyone laughed and by everyone I mean all the people in the store under thirty (which was everyone but me).

Now having center stage (my favorite place), I went on: “Well, the reason it was so much money (more laughter) – it came with a rebuilt carburetor, which knocked the price up four bucks.” (For racing fans, it was a 1933, four door, two tone -red and black- Chevy.)

While shopping last week, I had stopped at my local deli to get a small container of my favorite oil-based, Greek olives. The bill was a little over three dollars and I absent-mindedly handed the boss (he was cashiering that morning) my American Express card.

“You don’t have three dollars?” the boss exclaimed, as he reached for the card.

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking, “ I said, and as I reached for my wallet added: “I can’t remember if my wife gave me my allowance.” In truth, I didn’t mean to say “allowance,” it just slipped out. And the laughter, as you would expect, was uproarious.

Much to my chagrin, I did have a fairly full wallet (some fifty bucks) so I paid in cash and slunk out of the store somewhat red-faced. But actually, dear reader, it was my allowance! And here is the full story: For seventy years now as man and boy, I’ve been getting a regular, weekly allowance. First it was my wonderful, kindly and understanding father, who supported me with weekly stipends all the way through college and grad school.

Since my wife and I wed right out of school, when I got my first real job and a paycheck I was already a husband. As was the custom back then, the wife took care of most things including budgeting the money, trying to make ends meet from paycheck to paycheck. Naturally, I gave her my check – we both worked – she made the weekly deposits and gave “an allowance,” which really meant: that was all I could spend if we wanted to pay the rent next month. Quite frankly, I was happy with the arrangement then (less headaches for me) and still am today. After all, why change a good thing. Interestingly, in real dollars the fifteen bucks my father gave me in the early fifties is worth a lot more than the forty-dollars I get today. But believe me, I’m not complaining, I’m still happy with the arrangement. Wouldn’t you?