From the Great Depression to Great Money Lessons What my Poppa, the Accountant, Taught Me about Personal Finance through the Generations

Lessons from My Poppa The Power of Grandparents as Personal Finance Educators, Inspired by an Accountant's Experience During the Great Depression

Grandfather counting money

“Keep the nickel, I’ll owe you one,” my grandfather cheekily told the cashier, who promptly turned down his offer. Unfazed, he pulled out a dollar bill and received 95 cents in change. With a menacing scowl, he warned the cashier, “Remember this!”

Benjamin Sheft, my grandfather, never took money for granted. Every time we dined in a restaurant, he scrutinized the check as if it held the secrets of the universe. As he paid cash, he peeled off dollar bills with such precision, it felt like he was shedding his own skin.

Growing up, no one tried harder than my poppa to teach me about money—earning it, saving it, and even losing it. But his noble efforts were met with limited success.

According to a survey by the British financial services company Legal & General, grandparents played a significant role in passing down financial and money-saving advice to their grandchildren. Almost a third of grandchildren (30%) credited their grandparents for teaching them valuable lessons about finances[^1].

Similarly, Charles Schwab issued a guide to grandparents about teaching financial literacy to grandchildren. The guide emphasized the importance of discussing money in everyday situations and instilling responsible money management from a young age[^2].

My poppa’s journey began when he migrated to the United States from a Russian village at the tender age of two in 1909. His father, who barely spoke English, was a tailor. At 20, poppa got married and became a father at 21, raising a daughter who was profoundly deaf from infancy. He was the first in his family to pursue higher education, earning a degree in accounting from the City University of New York.

During the Great Depression, he tirelessly looked for clients, going door to door on foot, offering accounting services to businesses in his neighborhood. He audited the books of dry cleaners, auto-repair shops, and everything in between, striving to make ends meet.

However, in the late 1940s, with the postwar boom in full swing, poppa’s fortunes started to change. He partnered with someone and opened an accounting firm, conveniently located across from Grand Central Terminal. There, he handled taxes, bank records, payrolls, and whatever else came his way. I always marveled at the view of the Empire State Building from his office.

In the early 1950s, he moved his family from the Bronx to Manhattan’s Upper East Side, a neighborhood that had recently transformed. No longer overshadowed by the Second Avenue El, it had become the epitome of swankiness. He sent his son to prestigious universities, eventually buying a spacious house in suburban New Jersey as a gift for my parents. Poppa also indulged himself with a Cadillac, the quintessential symbol of American financial success. They joined a country club, where he enjoyed golf, smoked cigars, and savored his Scotch on the rocks. Broadway shows, opera, ballet, and extravagant trips across Europe and Asia became regular highlights of their lives.

Yet, despite his achievements, poppa perpetually believed he was a day late and a dollar short. His son, my Uncle Leonard, once confirmed this claim. One day, poppa admitted to me, “I sold my stake in a garden-apartment complex too soon. I wanted quick profits.” He shook his head in regret, “If I had held on longer, I would be a millionaire now.”

For poppa, the thirst for more was insatiable. Perhaps he never fully recovered from the wounds inflicted by the Great Depression, even after all those decades.

Poppa’s intention was to teach me about money—to count it, watch it grow—but I couldn’t quite grasp his perspective. I grew up spoiled, assuming money would magically appear whenever I desired. I squandered the $5,000 of gifts I received for my bar mitzvah in 1965 within a decade. Adjusted for inflation, that cash would be worth over $47,000 today. Similarly, the $17,000 in wedding presents my wife and I received in 1979 vanished by the late 1980s, an amount that would now be worth at least $74,000.

Before learning from poppa’s guidance, I had to make my fair share of mistakes. It took me until the age of 35, driven by the responsibility of raising two kids, to cultivate a strong work ethic. And it wasn’t until I reached 45 that I finally rid myself of debt. Some of us are slow learners, but eventually, I got my act together.

In a forgotten film noir, a character once uttered, “Everything is addition and subtraction. The rest is just conversation.” Money truly boils down to those simple principles.

While our parents and grandparents can impart valuable knowledge, some lessons can only be learned through our own experiences. Poppa taught me that invaluable truth.

About the Author: Bob Brody, an essayist and consultant currently residing in Italy, is the author of the memoir Playing Catch with Strangers: A Family Guy (Reluctantly) Comes of Age.

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