Find links to other articles by Bernadette Noll HERE.
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Long ago and far away, I was living in Washington, D.C. One day I found myself many miles from my house with only two dollars in my pocket, in change. And this wasn't just what I had on me — it was all the money I had to my name. Should I take the bus home, thereby further and completely depeleting my change stash, or walk and reserve this last two bucks for something more necessary? I was enjoying the walk until I approached a rather posh area, dotted with expensive shops and boutiques — yet another reminder of my dire financial straits. I was so desperate that day, even window shopping was painful.
Once home I was greeted by my roommate sorting through the day's mail. Tucked in with the usual assemblage of junk and bills was a hand-written letter. Seeing my mom's penmanship, I grabbed it out of his hand.
"My mom:
the queen of
get-yourself-
something-nice." |
As I opened the envelope, a check slid out. I let it fall to the floor as I read the short note inside: "Happy Spring! I hope the days there have been as glorious as they are here. A little something for you to brighten them up even more. Treat yourself! Love, Mom." My mom: the queen of get-yourself-something-nice. As usual, her timing was perfect. If ever I needed a bit of treating, it was then. Of course I had bills that needed paying, but they would be covered by my next paycheck. More than that, I needed something to lift me out of the doldrums brought on by the state of my diminished funds.
I was out the door in a flash to get to the store to spend the check from my mom. Having grown up during the Depression in a working class family, my mom knew what it was to go without. During those years of distress she was allowed temporary escapes from the the strain of financial straits by her comparatively well-to-do godmother, Aunt May. Aunt May was always sending gifts in the mail or arriving for a visit and giving little presents to my mom or taking her out for a treat. It wasn't that the gifts were so big or extravagant; it was that they were at all, in the face of unpaid bills and other hardships of the Depression. These items were procured with no connection whatsoever to day-to-day monetary needs; they were completely and unequivocally guilt-free. And they made a lasting impression on my mom.
As a testament to her Aunt May my mom now sends no-occasion, get-yourself-something-nice checks to lucky recipients such as myself, my siblings, and various nieces, nephews, and grandchildren. In the years since I moved out of my parents' house, these gift checks have arrived quite randomly. I am told by other family members that they too receive them quite irregularly. They are not large sums, but they are great in their sentiment and their lack of contingency. Over the years I have accepted them quite graciously with the exception of a few bone-headed years in my early twenties when I felt that my mom's gifts were making me slack off.
| "There is nothing quite like spending free money. It is so completely unattached and guilt-free. " |
There is nothing quite like spending free money. It is so completely unattached and guilt-free. The fact that the money spent is earmarked for frivolity means that when I'm picking out earrings or trying on a shirt, not once do I think I should be saving this money for some necessity or worrying about some bill. After all, to not spend it on something nice would be to defy my own mother. And there is nothing like a bit of self-indulgence every now and then to help one get through a period of paltry finances. I look forward to the day when I can carry on the legacy of my mom and my great Aunt May. Right now I'm stealing change from my daughter's piggy-bank, but I'm gettin' there.
Bernadette Noll is a is a freelance writer based in Austin, Texas. On being a full-time writer, she says, "My life is forever colored by ten years in the restaurant business. It's always in the back of my mind that there is only one letter difference between writer and waiter."
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