Five Bucks

Interlude

Five Bucks

A Lesson from My Father and His

"Can I play one more game Dad? I really want to try and win one of those stuffed animals." I was very young, standing with my Father in front of a carnival game in our hometown.

He opened his wallet to show me a single five-dollar note. "My Father once told me to always go home with something. Five bucks is the minimum I bring home. I never go under that." 

My Grandfather passed when I was just old enough to have some vague memories of him. He was an impressionable man with a big personality. I knew my Father loved and missed him very much. Whenever he told a story or shared a lesson from his Father, I listened intently. His voice seemed to change as if he'd gone back in time, reliving the moment, his eyes becoming windows into my family's past. I may have been unable to explain it at the time, being so young, but I felt it and understood. 

I nodded with a smile, and we walked away. "We had fun. There will be plenty more carnivals and games to look forward to. But keep that in mind, okay? Always go home with something." 

It's funny, I've never forgotten that lesson. To this day, that moment lives on vividly in my library of memories. That doesn't mean I always listened, though. Wandering the globe, as I have done, brings with it financial insecurity that most people would be uncomfortable with. A five-dollar note in my wallet was a saving grace many times over the years, helping me to scrape through until the next round of funds came in. 

Recently, however, I returned to the carnival that evening with my Father and took that lesson onboard. Why? I'm not sure, to be honest. Maturity? Age? A slower pace of life? Whatever it is, that lesson, passed from my Grandfather to my Father to me, has become incredibly important. Now, a five-dollar note in my wallet is standard issue. 

The financial worth of a folded five-dollar note hidden behind my cards pales in comparison to the symbolic value. It's a symbol of shared intergenerational wisdom rooted in family history. After all, what is history but a recollection of people, events, and lessons? Five bucks is part of my family history between my Grandfather, Father, and me—a history that brings me closer to a man who passed when I was a child and a man I don't see nearly enough these days.

As we grow and gain independence, it becomes too easy to reject lessons from our parents. As we build lives of our own, we find new ways of living and going about things. Ways we may see as better. It's likely our parents did the same, as did our grandparents, and so on. Using our upbringing as a base to build and improve on, we search to find a so-called "better way". It seems to be the natural way of things, and that's okay. We would be wise to not get caught up in this "I'm going to do it better mentality" though, for there's immense value in what our elders pass down to us. Ignoring them would be a great mistake. 

I've travelled the world, learned languages, and had great adventures. My Father lives in the town he was born in, speaks one language, and reads of adventure. Does that mean I've lived more or better than he has? Of course not. We've just lived differently. We've followed our own paths. Does my portfolio of travel and experience mean he has nothing to teach me? Absolutely not, and it would be ridiculous to think so. 

My Father has lived on this planet for twenty-six years longer than me. We may live differently and not always see eye-to-eye, but he's taught me so much and continues to do so today, as I'm sure his Father still teaches him. For our family histories are where profound lessons await discovery, dormant, preserved in blood and familiarity, available when we need them. 

That five-dollar note tucked away in my wallet doesn't represent currency; it represents a bond to the family that created me and shaped my early life. To me, five bucks is a lesson of lineage, a symbol of value beyond all things material. To me, five bucks is priceless. 

Today is my Father's seventieth birthday. A milestone worth acknowledging and celebrating. It's the first time in six years I'll be able to give him a hug and wish him a Happy Birthday in person. I don't put much stock in material possessions, as most lack meaning. Instead, as part of my gift to my Father this year, I've written this. You're reading it, but I wrote it for him. Why share it, then? To remind the reader that, regardless of where you've been or what you've done in your life, lessons from those before us are invaluable and something we should never take for granted. 

Today, on my Father's seventieth birthday, he'll read this online just as you are, only it'll mean something different to him. The five-dollar lesson is something only he and I will fully understand. It's something we'll connect with.

I urge you to reflect on lineage lessons from your life and find a way to reconnect to your history. While you do that, I'll hug my Father and hand him a small gift: a five-dollar note.