My grandfather Sparks had much more than pocket change than Warran Buffet. I remember long ago when we lived in San Diego around 1950.
My Dad was training Boots, US Naval Training Center. We were in his Company #228 too.
My Grandpa ‘n Grandma drove up in a big ol’Lincoln, something like that. They got out of the car, came into our Quanset Hut on the base where we lived…
They smoked, drank ‘n cut the fool. Yelled and cussed, threw shit around.
My favorite part was, when grandpa pulled out a big wad of cash. “Wow!” We thought with big eyes. My Dad looked on with his greedy eyes. We had less than pocket change back then, I know…
He and grandpa were drunker than 3 peckered Billy Goats in church on Sunday, as usual. You know sailors and grandpas back in 1950 after WWII…
My grandpa, with a laugh and a snicker, pulled the $100 bill off the top and gave it to me. My Dad was pissed off. I thought he was going to kick my little ass in that moment…
Then, with shock ‘n horror, all 100 of the bills remaining were $1.00 bills.
What’s the moral of this story from 1950 boys?
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