Money doesn’t grow on trees but grows on intelligent minds.

Matshona Dhliwayo

Carpenter is a small town of 90 souls in northeastern Iowa. As a child, my family lived down a gravel road less than a mile from the main highway going through town.

My best friend Todd lived just across the street in a ranch house, and back in those days we were “thick as thieves” as the saying goes. It was a time marked with riding bikes all over town without parental supervision, running to the tiny grocery store for an ice cream and also visiting the mother of one of my sister’s best friends who made the best chocolate chip cookies in the world (at least in an 8-year old’s opinion). It was a world where kids went trick or treating unsupervised in October and came back with a haul that would fill multiple garbage bags, without worrying about razor blades or other harmful “tricks” coming into play. In other words, it was as picture perfect and nostalgic as a family in a Stephen Spielberg film.

The last I knew, Todd was a police officer in Minnesota, which I’m sure makes for an interesting career these days.

Anyway, back to the lesson learned. If memory serves me right, it was springtime in Carpenter, and my dad was already hard at work in the barn, feeding our horses and cattle before turning them out into the pasture for the day.

Todd & I had been regularly bothering our parents for money for candy, movies, toys and games, and to another adult it would have been obvious that their patience was running thin with constantly doling out the dollars.

My mother, being the creative type, decided to teach us both a lesson.

“Boys, do you see that small tree over there on the far side of that second pasture? The one a bit obscured by that other larger tree?”

We looked at each other and then squinted our eyes to attempt to focus on the tree Mom was referring to. “Yes, way far over there?”

“Exactly. I’m pretty sure you don’t know this yet, but you’re both old enough to be let in on our little secret, which is this. Every time a handful of years have gone by, the sun and the moon align in just the perfect way…and that’s when it happens!” she proclaimed as if it were Haley’s Comet coming around after 75 years or so.

“What happens???” we both shouted in unison.

Mom looked at as if she was about to impart to us the secret location of the holy grail. “When conditions are right, as they are today, that little tree grows dollar bills in addition to leaves.”

After hardly skipping a beat, we both tore away from mom, scaled the first of several pasture fences, and flew across the fields as fast as our legs could carry us.

After finding the tree…just a regular old tree, our trip back was considerably slower and lacked any sense of enthusiasm.

“Hey! There wasn’t any money on that tree?” I said with a large dose of childhood angst.

She smiled a bit of a Mona Lisa smile, leaned down so she was looking at both of us on our level, and said “About that. You see, money doesn’t grow on trees.”

Dejected and just a bit angry, we stomped our way back into the house. Mom reached into her purse at that point, slipped out a few bucks and turned and gave them to each of us.

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To this day, my major purchases take me back to that early life lesson. I tend to be frugal and want the most out of my hard-earned money. I usually consult Consumer Reports as well and online reviews before making that type of purchase, and always remember that trees are just trees.

Thanks Mom!