Bubble gum, Tootsie Rolls, Licorice, and Root Beer Barrels. My allowance would buy a package of each, and with the change a pack of baseball cards. Occasionally I’d buy a five packs of bubble gum and that was it, my allowance was gone.

Candy was a big part of my youth. Candy purchases taught me the purpose of money. Well, the eight-year old me thought moneys purpose was to get stuff that made me happy; candy! And I was very very happy.

Eight years later, I had graduated from candy to Twinkies, Ho-Ho’s and the less popular Chocodiles. My allowance had been replace by a pay check. My handful of happiness have way to a shopping bag full of euphoria. The sixteen-year old me grew to see happiness increase as money on hand increased.

Between sixteen and twenty four I ditched sweets cold, shunned them like a friend turned thief. A warrior’s purpose replaced the boy’s self-pity. Demands for money were greater than supply, but discipline kept all in balance, I was happy.

Eight years later, I had relapsed. A million excuses hung from my frame. A failed marriage, grandparents passed, purpose forgotten, a surge in money unable to buy a smile; balance had been lost. Had I taken the time to look out from the extra hundred pounds I wore I would’ve seen my remedy, had I.


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