Generational Wealth
My brother Tom, his fiancée, and I were sitting around talking about the state of the world.
And the scarcity of resources.
I think you can imagine how some of the conversation went.
We were talking about how hard it can be for a young couple or family to get established and begin building a life.
When I was younger, there seemed to be a pretty clear-cut way of climbing the ladder.
Today that ladder looks different.
And that got us talking about generational wealth.
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I came from an upbringing where, if you wanted your own car, you worked for it.
So work I did.
I wanted my freedom.
And I was pretty responsible for somebody who—well, if you know a little bit about my story—was also a bit off the rails.
But I had learned enough survival skills to navigate life at the time.
And I certainly knew more than my parents!
In my day, there was a fairly clear path toward homeownership.
You moved out. You got an apartment.
The affordable ones I lived in could be a little sketchy!
Then, if you were responsible—as my father tried to insist I be, God bless him—you could save enough money for a down payment on a small house.
And there were small houses everywhere.
Two bedrooms. One bathroom.
Have you ever heard of such a thing anymore?
Small little starter homes.
Oh geez. Reading this back, I’m starting to sound like my dad:
“Back in my day, you could get breakfast at a diner and get change back from a five-dollar bill.”
If you continued to save money, maybe found someone to partner with in life, and started making plans for the future—marriage, kids, career—there was a fairly recognizable path.
It worked for my parents.
It worked for my older brother.
It worked for many people I knew growing up.
And that’s great.
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Even though we’ve known each other for less than 20 years, my brother Tom and I lived almost parallel lives.
We both innately chose the road less traveled.
And at this stage in life, I think that made all the difference.
There were trade-offs, of course.
All the while, as I was getting older, there were examples around me.
My parents.
My older brother David.
They were starting families, building households, doing all the things.
Climbing the ladder.
And yet, for a large chunk of my life, I was arrogant enough to believe that—with very few exceptions—anyone older than me probably couldn’t teach me much.
In many ways, I was uneducable.
Of course I knew better than my parents.
Of course.
“I Did It My Way” was more than Sinatra’s call to the world.
It was mine too.
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But as we sat around that evening talking about the world, the economy, and all these things, Tom’s fiancée said something that sparked a memory.
She said there is very little generational wealth available anymore.
There was a time when more people had a little piece of land, a house, a business, or some property that they could keep and eventually hand down to a son or daughter.
And it stayed in the family.
Each generation got to begin one rung farther up the ladder of security.
That wealth was passed on and on.
And when I look at things now, at least in my own life, it feels a little different.
A little more scarce.
A little less certain where the next rung might be.
The father Tom and I shared had a beautiful piece of property in Oregon. But because of the economy and other circumstances, in order to live out his final years comfortably in his own home, he took out a reverse mortgage.
There was very little financial wealth left to pass on.
My father is in a similar situation.
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And I’m beginning to realize there is something beyond generational financial wealth.
Something that may be far more valuable.
It is something I turned my back on for many years.
Only in the last decade or so have I begun to recognize another kind of generational wealth.
The inheritance of wisdom.
It had always been there.
It had always been what my father was offering me.
When I got my first well-paying job in Los Angeles, Dad sat me down.
He ran a few numbers and showed me that if I saved just a small, truly manageable amount of my salary, then in 10 years, 20 years, 30 years, I could be very well off.
He was showing me a way to navigate an uncertain future.
Of course, I was:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dad.
I’m gonna buy a guitar.
A new car.
A drum set.
All the things I wanted.
And he still loved me.
He still offered his wisdom.
He still showed me what prudent financial choices looked like.
And he continued teaching in other ways.
By showing me what a strong faith can do for someone.
What marriage and family meant to him.
What sacrificing some of his own wants for the needs of others could look like.
And there it was.
The greatest gift.
It had been there all along.
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And you know what?
It doesn’t matter that so many of the investments he offered me over the years weren’t acted upon when he offered them.
As I recall them now, they become even more powerful.
They produce returns on my emotional health.
I have a larger bank account of patience that I can draw from for the people I love.
My storehouse of gratitude gives me balance and well-being.
Most days.
Yes, those “investments” won’t buy me the new drum set I’d like to get.
But I recognize now that the drum set would never be the source of my happiness.
The source of my happiness is much more than that.
And for me, that is the inheritance of generational wisdom:
Knowing what truly matters.
Recognizing the permanence of those things against the impermanence of all the stuff.
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And now I find myself standing in my father’s shoes.
Telling the girls the things I’ve learned.
The mistakes I’ve made.
The investments I didn’t even know were available to me.
And how sometimes the return doesn’t arrive until years later.
And you know what I hear?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Danny.
But I really need this new outfit.
I really want to go on this trip.
I really need a new hairdryer.
Ahhh, the circle of life.
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ROAR with Love,
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
