TAKE MY ADVICE - Opening segment (Scroll down for earlier chapters)

      

  

 

      I have always been told, “It’s better to give than to receive.”  I agree.  I've always found it far more enjoyable giving advice than receiving it. 
 

       During my earlier years, I especially enjoyed giving advice to my younger cousin, Lester.  Being a year older, with far more life experiences, I felt I knew what was best for him.  His father felt I should consider what was best for me.  So I considered what was best for me; it was helping Lester. 

               

      One of Lester’s goals was to become rich, so he could someday retire to an island in the South Seas or, maybe, to senior housing in Goodland, Kansas.  

     His mother didn’t like his talk of riches.  Every time Lester brought up the subject, she would say,” I’ll slap your jaws.” (This is really true! I’m not making this up!)  

     While his mother had Lester’s jaws in her crosshairs, his father was telling him to keep his chin up.  “Hold your head high,” he’d admonish Lester.  I figured that would only put his jaws in direct line for a good slap.

     Having Lester’s interests at heart, and thinking I might profit from our friendship, I was willing to step in between his mother and his jaws, if necessary.

     Having amassed a sizable fortune, myself, and knowing Lester wanted to become rich, I offered him my sage advice. “If you want to make more money than you’ve ever seen in your life---even more than lunch money, you can’t walk around with your chin up and head held high,” I said.

     “Why not?” asked Lester, with a quizzical look.

     “Well, first of all, your mother is going to slap your jaws.  Secondly, money doesn’t grow on trees; it falls out of pockets.  If money grew on trees, holding your head high would be good advice.  You could spot the money right away and pick it, while the bills were still crisp.  But as any financial genius, or anyone who plays ‘kick the can’, knows, money is on the ground: on sidewalks, in parking lots, and under carnival rides that turn you upside down. So take my advice; keep looking down, because the money is on the ground.”

     Lester was a bit hesitant to take my advice, claiming he hadn’t fully recovered from the barn incident.  “Forget the barn,” I said.  “We’re talking big money here.” 

     Since Lester was primarily interested in becoming rich, and trying to avoid his mom’s wrath, he decided my advice was the best he’d heard since we’d built our campfire in a haystack.  So he tucked in his chin and hung his head, knowing if he kept looking down for the money on the ground, it would be only a matter of time before he became filthy rich.  After giving me a small percentage---say fifty percent---for my advice, he could then fulfill his dreams of early retirement in Goodland…I mean the South Seas.

     I think Lester would have enjoyed life on an island in the South Seas, but a debilitating maple bar addiction caused his plans to take a detour.  It happened one morning on the school playground.  He and a friend were walking along, discussing the latest financial trends, and playing kick-the-can, when they both spotted some money on the ground in front of them.  Visualizing a maple bar, Lester ran for the money.  At the last minute, his friend tried to push him aside.  Just as Lester looked up, his front tooth collided with a tetherball pole.  The tooth fell to the ground.  Lester didn’t get a maple bar, but he did receive a new, shiny gold tooth.  His father wasn’t happy, feeling Lester should have been paying attention to where he was going.  

  

    I suggested Lester get help for his addiction.  His father said something to me, but I couldn’t understand it through his clenched teeth.   

    

    I decided to go into hiding.  I kept a low profile while Lester recovered from the trauma, and attended several MBA ---Maple Bars Anonymous---meetings, and listened to his father explain, once again, why it wasn’t a good idea to listen to my advice.  

To be continued...check back soon