Worth & Value

For What It's Worth #1

Even though we seldom realize it before adulthood, many of our parents’ more benign ways of moving through the world leave an impact on us.

Until this most recent musing, I would have said my mother’s daily routines and beliefs influenced me much more than those of my father.

It’s certain I inherited (or absorbed) my mom’s good housekeeping practices (although not the strict regimen),  her skill at organizing, her tenaciousness when there’s a job to be done and her usually sunny outlook.

While writing the 2009 memoir for my sons, I delved deep into my father’s psyche, outlook and mannerisms. In doing so I came across many more ways than I previously realized in which I mirror my father (in addition to the love of spirited debate and arcane knowledge).

My father was not a businessman … in career or in thought processes. He worked with engines, electricity and cables. He understood machinery, knew how to rewind and rebuild motors, manage recalcitrant and balky drive trains and coax old, worn-out elevators back to life.

Dad was the epitome of “honest to a fault.” For instance, when he was on call for customers’ after-hours machinery breakdowns he chose to charge his hours beginning with the time he arrived at the client’s business and he did not charge mileage. He could have—all the other repairmen did. He felt that practice simply wasn't right or fair to the customer.

The creases in his palms were permanently darkened from the oily grime he encountered every day as he worked to provide for our family of four.

When Dad arrived home in the evening he immediately went through the back door and down to the basement. He took a cleansing shower and changed into clean clothes. Up from the make-shift basement shower, refreshed and ready for the evening, he met Mom at the kitchen doorway, where they always exchanged a welcome home hug and kiss.

In some of his free time, Dad enjoyed checking out thrift stores and garage sales (although “garage sales,” per se, weren’t as common as now). He enjoyed finding small pieces of broken, non-working equipment which he tried to bring back to life or repurpose.

Once in a while he’d cart home some piece of furniture, dish or appliance for Mother’s approval. She seldom thought his finds were all that great. I remember Dad telling her the seller “… only wanted [this or that price], but I said that was way too low," which caused my mother further chagrin.

I recall more than a few times when my dad sold an item he no longer needed or things he owned more than enough of -- maybe a set of tires, or some firewood he’d cut from one of the many trees on our property, or that “too good to pass up” second-hand whatsis he bought for Mom. It never failed, when the prospective buyer came around, my father downplayed the value, and invariably reduced his already low asking price.

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For What It’s Worth #2

When I see something I would truly enjoy having, something I maybe looked a long time to find, I’m often surprised to see the item isn’t as expensive as I would have thought. No, I don’t request that Target, Cost Plus or the local consignment store mark the price UP for me (with an income lower than “middle,” I usually don’t buy the item anyway). However, I have been known to offer a non-profit thrift store more money than asked for an item.

When selling (a piece of furniture, for instance), I often minimize the value and end up practically giving the item away—while profusely thanking the buyer.

I also tend to dismiss the intrinsic worth of my artistic talents in, for example, poetry, essay, or decorating. Over the years I’ve been hired to give advice on decor and gardening and I’ve been hired to help edit essays for submission and books of poetry for publication. In every instance, I demur when it comes to my fee. I essentially undersell myself.

I began working at 16-1/2 and have continued to work through the years. I’ve been employed by good companies and in friendly environments and always felt grateful for the jobs.

Never once in all this time have I asked any of my managers for a raise in salary. I’ve received bonuses, as well as salary increases, but not because I’ve verbally promoted myself. I simply do not know how to do that. I await the largess of my employer, hoping my performance warrants an increase.

Oh, yes: thanks to both my parents, I know how to clean up pretty darn good. 

There is no such thing as absolute value in this world.

You can only estimate what a thing is worth to you.

Charles Dudley Warner 1829-1900, American writer