THE BARBIE-DOLL DILEMMA
By L.J. Powers
“If money doesn’t grow on trees, where does it grow?” inquired my ten-year-old, wide-eyed, inquisitive granddaughter.
My interest stirred by her question, I replied, “Jenny, where did you hear that money does not grow on trees?”
With a toss of her head, Jenny immediately said, “Yesterday I asked Daddy if Mommy would buy me the pretty party dress we saw at the Mall. Daddy asked Mommy how much the dress cost, and she said forty-eight ninety-seven. Daddy said to Mommy and me, ‘No way! Money doesn‘t grow on trees, you know.’ I didn’t know where it grew, and Daddy didn’t want to talk about it. So, I thought maybe you’d tell me.”
Jenny, a bright, talkative, and curious child, often confronted me with a question like that: a common saying that literally made no sense. That often led to a delightful conversation as you will see.
“Jenny,” I said “Money doesn’t grow anywhere, not on trees, not on flowers, just not anywhere.”
Brushing her long blonde hair back over her ears with a swipe of her hand, Jenny persisted in her interrogation in a deliberate manner, “Well, then, why did Daddy talk about money not growing on trees?”
“You prob’ly have noticed that grownups don’t always say what they mean, like, ‘a stitch in time saves nine’. This is a quick way of sayin’ that if something needs to be done and you take care of it right away, you may save a lot’a time compared with puttin’ it off and doin’ it later.”
“Will I talk that way when I’m a grownup?” asked Jenny, raising her eyebrows and with a tone of disappointment in her voice. “I don’t care about that right now. Let’s talk about money: if it doesn’t grow anywhere, where does it come from and why is it such a big deal?”
“Answerin’ your first question about money: It comes from the government where paper money is made like, say, the newspaper. The coins: pennies, nickels, etc. are made from copper, silver and the like. The money is given to banks and they see that people get it to buy things with.”
“Do you mean that the bank just gives people money? That seems kind of silly. At our house ever’body has to do some work or somethin’ to get money, except for a present like on birthday or Christmas. Even Santa Claus is sorta-make-believe.”
“You’re right, Jenny,” I admitted, “I made it too simple by what I said. The whole thing about money is very complicated, and I do not understand all of what happens. But you are absolutely right when you say that you must work to get money. What your Daddy meant when he said, ‘Money does not grow on trees.’ was that somethin’ that costs a lot of money takes a lot of work.”
“Okay, Grandpa, if you say so. But what’s the big deal about money? If you want a lot of money then you just work a lot. Isn’t that so?” said Jenny gesturing with her hands, palms up.
“What you say, Jenny, is true, but the problem with that is, having a lot of money, just to have a lot of money, can get you into trouble.”
With a faraway look in her pale blue eyes and a slight frown as though peering at some distant object, she continued, “I know what you mean. Daddy and Mommy gave me a Barbie doll on my birthday when I was eight. My good friend Jennifer had two Barbie dolls and that made me sorta jealous. So I asked you to give me a Barbie doll, which I knew you would do if I sat on your lap and told you that I love you, and put my arms around your neck and then asked for it.”
“Oh,” I said, “Grandpa may be old but he’s not stupid. Don’t forget that your Mommy and your Aunt Genevieve were once sweet, adorable, scheming little girls just like you and I knew exactly what you were doing. But tell me more about the Barbie dolls.”
Now she leaned forward toward me, concentrating on what she was saying, and took up her story, “ Now I had two Barbie dolls. I felt that was not enough. I must have more Barbies than Jennifer. After begging Mommy for another Barbie and getting it at Christmas, I was happy that I had one more than Jennifer. After a few weeks, I got kind of unhappy having only one more than Jennifer. I would be happy again if I had two more than she had. This time I begged Aunt Genevieve for a Barbie. She gave in and got me one on my ninth birthday.”
I asked, “Were you happy, now that you had two more dolls than Jennifer?”
“No.” Jenny quickly responded, shaking her head, “I thought that Jennifer might get more Barbie dolls than me and I didn’t know what to do. Then one Sunday my Sunday school teacher was readin’ to us, and I wasn’t payin’ any attention. I was thinkin’ about my Barbie dolls and Jennifer when I heard my teacher reading, ‘The love of money is the root of all evil.’ ”
“What did you think about then?” I asked with growing interest.
“Well, Grandpa, I don’t know what is meant by ‘root of evil’, but I did know that I loved having a lot of dolls, but I didn’t care much about each doll.”
I couldn’t help interrupting with, “That was quite a discovery you made.”
Acknowledging my comment with a nod of her head, Jenny continued, “When I thought about it, it seemed if I cared about each doll then I could have fun again with Jennifer and her dolls without worryin’ about how many she had and how many I had.”
“That’s quite a thought, Jenny.”
“Grandpa, that’s not all. I’ve another question. If you thought about money like it was Barbies. You know, if you cared a whole lot about how much you had but didn’t care about the fun things you could do with the money, like Jennifer and I put clothes on the dolls, and play school with them and stuff like that. Would that be what you mean about loving money?”
“Exactly, Jenny. You’ve got the right idea.” I said, somewhat overcome by my granddaughter’s perception, and wondering why she bothered to ask me in the first place.
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