Ken Seifert
The Seifert children grew up at the tail end of the Depression. Although our economic condition began to improve after World War II, to this day we still have that "save for a rainy day" frame of reference.
In the late 1930s and early '40s our family would have a mild visit from Santa and the Easter Bunny. On our birthday we would receive one special thing. If we wanted anything above food, a warm bed and hand-me-down clothes, we were tutored: go ye forth to the outside world and earn the dollars to pay for your luxurious dreams.
My first bicycle was a skinny tired model with a taped front wheel. At the age of 12, I was engaged in our weekly dice game. The cubes were in my favor that day and a friend offered to sell me his bike for $9 to stay in the contest. At the conclusion of the event there was one winner out of 12. I bought everyone a nickel candy bar. I believe it was a Clark Bar. Not only did Mike lose his bike but the $9, as well. Dad told me it was worth only $7.
Years passed and I married Norma, a lovely girl from Corning, N.Y. We had great children and moved to suburbia, Andover, Mass. My oldest son, 12 at the time, announced he wanted a 10-speed bike. It seemed every boy in the town had to possess what Madison Avenue felt was appropriate for children whose parents had money to burn.
How much does this instant gratification cost, my son? Only $125, he answered. It was at this moment a new rule was established in our household. Mom and Dad would contribute half but the chief recipient must provide the rest.
After about a week, our oldest son announced he was employed. He had a paper route. For two years he served with distinction. On only one occasion did he drag his father out of bed on a cold Sunday morning. The snow was quite deep and completion of the route was in doubt.
On collection days, his mother told him to dress like a gentleman. Appearance is important and it just might produce better tips, she told him. She was right. To this very day, he has followed her sage advice. He was a good role model for our children who followed in his footsteps.
We had other rules. You will never acquire a job in the Andover Public Schools. That is called nepotism. You are free to seek jobs that are morally and legally sound. If you are really in a pinch, and are good children, your parents might assist in a phone call or two.
We never did. Our children never asked for help. They bought many extra pleasures in growing to adulthood. We never kicked in 50 percent. They have become extremely self-sufficient adults.
It all started with a $9 bike in a dice game in Buffalo, N.Y. as the Great Depression was fading. What a country!
