"Dad, dad, can I have a dollar for video games?" asked my thirteen-year old son as he breathlessly burst into my office.

"But I just gave you a dollar," I objected.

"I’ve already spent it, Dad. I’m out of money. Can I have another dollar - please?"

"See you back here in an hour," I mumbled as I handed him a crumpled dollar bill.

It was early summer - 1983. I sat and stared at the empty space where Pete had been as his footsteps faded down the stairs and the heavy front door of my downtown accounting office thumped shut. It was time this kid began learning about responsibility. It was time he learned to budget.

I had been thinking about my son and his money for some time. His mother and I were divorced, and he had recently come to live with me. I now had an opportunity to make a difference in his life, and I very much wanted to make the most of it.

Pete was a good student. He worked hard and he played hard and he had a perpetual hole in his pocket. In many ways he was just like his mother. Good characteristics - if he could just learn to manage them.

On the way home that night I broke the news to him. Effectively immediately he was to prepare a written weekly budget. It was to be complete. There would be no midweek corrections.

"But Dad!" objected Pete. He was aghast. Learning responsibility was not high on his priority list. Video games were, and he was afraid they were about to disappear from his life.

"But Dad nothing." I responded. "You must learn to manage your money. I’m not trying to take all the fun out of your life. In fact, once you get the hang of it you will have more fun than you do now. I expect you to play some video games. You’ll need to list everything at the beginning of the week and add it all up. I’ll look it over, and if it’s reasonable I will give you the money. Fair enough?"

"Do I have a choice?" Pete was not convinced.

"No. Also, I want a report at the end of each week that tells me what you spent." Life was getting tough. Pete was getting his first real taste of the Golden Rule - "The person with the gold sets the rules."

As the weeks of summer faded into fall we found ourselves in an easy rut. Pete submitted a budget that always came to $15, and a report for the prior week that neatly summarized how the previous $15 had been spent. The reports were very similar; sometimes they were identical. The process has become stagnant.

"Dad, can I have some money for new clothes?" asked Pete, a few days before school opened in the fall.

"Put it on your budget."

"But Dad, I can’t buy clothes for $15."

"Who said your budget was supposed to be $15? Wasn’t me. Now run across the street to the department store and price what you need and make out your budget. It is due tomorrow anyway. I’ll pay you a day early. And don’t forget last weeks report.

Pete did as instructed. This budget was somewhere over $100. The process was no longer stagnant - for now at least.

The familiar scratchy handwriting jumped out of the stack of early morning mail. It was a letter from Pete. He had left the previous week to spend the summer of 1984 with his fraternal grandparents in North Carolina. I tore open the envelope. It contained his budget and a short letter. The item that immediately caught my attention was a line item for "ferry fares." Ferry boats are a way of life in our part of Western Washington; they do not exist in the part of North Carolina where he was visiting. He was back to copying again. I sent him the money requested, and asked him to send me a copy of the local ferry schedule. He got the message.

"Dad, if I promise not to bug you about a car, will you let me go to Germany on the exchange program?" asked Pete. It was late 1985, several months before his sixteenth birthday.

"Tell me about the exchange program." To my delight, I discovered my son’s high school had an exchange program with a German school under which our kids, accompanied by a teacher, went to Germany, stayed in German homes and attended the German school. Later, an equal number of German kids, also accompanied by a teacher, came to our town, stayed in our homes and attended our school. Each visit lasted about a month. The German school was also part of an East / West studies program cosponsored by the governments of East and West Germany. With some luck, he might even get an opportunity to visit East Germany. "Put it on your budget. Figure out how many weeks until you go and divide it equally. And get the paper work done early."

"Dad, there is this girl I would like to take to the prom."

"Put it on your budget."

And so it went, throughout high school. At any given time Pete had from two to four coffee cans stuffed with money, each containing funds for some special project. He had not yet taken accounting and therefore did not know he could maintain one fund and keep records on a ledger. That came in his senior year. Also, during his senior year he was elected ASB. (Associated Student Body) treasurer. He found the job a snap. "Dad, this is just like my budget, only a lot bigger."

He came to understand the power of planning ahead. He also came to understand the power of money. When his football coach, a man he greatly respected, came to him for assistance with a funding matter, Pete fully realized the value of his budget experience.

"Dad, this is a lot of money!" exclaimed Pete as he looked at the tuition statement from the university of his choice. It was early fall - 1988. Pete fully appreciated the significance of the numbers, in that the entire amount was to come from his savings account, most of which he had earned himself. He had worked construction for two summers and saved his money, and now it was all going for tuition.

"Want to save your money and go to a community college?" I asked.

"No way!"

"Then step up to the counter and pay the tab. That’s what you saved it for." And he did.

"Dad, I have been thinking about what I saw in Germany, and I think I want to apply for an ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Corps) scholarship. There are some things wrong with this country, but there are many things right with it too. I believe it is worth defending. I want to do my part. Besides, the Army will pay 80 percent of my tuition and that would sure help." While in Germany, Pete had in fact gotten an opportunity to visit East Germany. He had spent July 4, 1986 touring the site of a WWII Nazi concentration camp. He had seen the haunting pictures of the victims. He had seen their shoes, the spigots that were used to gas them, the hooks that were used to carry their bodies, and the ovens that were used to cremate them. He didn’t talk much about it when he got back, but he had obviously thought a lot about it. He had become intensely interested in politics, and even formed a Young Republicans chapter in his high school. Pete came to realize that when good people do nothing, bad people take control.

"Well Pete, if that is what you want, then go for it."

And go for it he did. He took ROTC as an elective in his freshman year and applied for a three-year scholarship. He got it, and I attended the induction ceremony. In a candid moment, his Colonel told me that this was once the Army did something right. "Pete’s test scores really aren’t that good, but he knows where he is going and he is one of the most motivated kids I have ever seen. He is a natural leader. He’s got what it takes. He’ll go a long way in the Army."

This spring Pete will graduate near the top of his class from the university of his choice and will be commissioned a Lieutenant in the United States Army. He has consistently held the highest cadet rank possible, and is presently the cadet commanding officer of his battalion. He has worked hard, he has played hard - and he has learned to manage it. He has learned responsibility. Now he will have the opportunity to use it.

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