My Real Life ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’

September 23, 2011 – 10:41 am

Many have said that Robert Kiyosakis Rich Dad, Poor Dad book is a piece of fiction. Apparently, he never had a rich dad and a poor dad as described in his book, or at least thats what many believe. But I did.

My parents divorced before I was two, and both remarried. My father, who lived across town, was my Rich Dad. My step-father was my Poor Dad. Let me tell you about them and how they each affected my views toward money, business, and life.

My Rich Dad

My father started his business in college. He sold stolen records, and when that didnt pay the bills, he hustled others for money at the local pool hall. He was apparently a real shark at billiards and pocket billiards. Mom tells the story of the time he played Willie Mosconi (prettiest blue eyes shed ever seen) and lost. But apparently he held his own.

When he graduated, he moved away from the hot vinyl market and into a wholesale business selling posters and incense (they were big in the 70s). After cornering the Farrah Faucent poster market, he upgraded to selling jewelry from Mexico. From Mexican jewelry he moved on to gold jewelry and eventually diamonds.

Interestingly, he never left the posters and incense business. The building that housed his business was a non-descript affair along I-70 just east of Columbus, Ohio. The front end contained four offices where he ran the jewelry business, and the back was a warehouse full of posters. I spent my summers rolling posters and putting them in the clear plastic sleeves youre probably familiar with. Wed add a label identifying the poster, and they were ready for delivery to K-Mart and his other retail customers.

I can also remember going on a sales call with my Rich Dad. It was a jewelry store in The Continent, a then fashionable outdoor mall north of Columbus that has since declined precipitously. I can still remember the jewelry store owner looking me in the eye and saying that my father was the best salesmen hed ever met. If only I had inherited that skill!

My Rich Dad made a lot of money. He spent a lot, too. He and my step-mother lived in a very nice home east of Columbus. They had an in ground pool put in. They owned a condo in Florida. My father drove a Mercedes 450 SL when he wasnt driving his 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. My step mother drove a Mercedes 450 SLC.

Rich Dad was the first to own a VCR, at least that I had ever seen. It was a massive box by todays standards. He also had the first car phone Id ever seen. In the 1970s, a car phone involved installing significant equipment in the trunk of the car. He belonged to a very nice country club, had expensive jewelry, and wore custom suits.

He was also extremely unhappy and died in a car accident at the age of 39.

My Poor Dad

My Poor Dad worked at the gas company. He never went to college, but was a natural-born artist. He could paint or draw anything, and was an excellent photographer and videographer. And he was a fisherman. A bass fisherman. A tournament attending, power boat buying, depth finder using, plastic worm jigging, fisherman.

He had multiple, massive tackle boxes that when expanded, must have had a wing-span of 10 feet. At $2 to $3 a pop, his collection of lures was easily worth thousands of dollars. And his graphite rods and smooth spinning reels numbered in the dozens.

A day on the lake with my Poor Dad went something like this:

4:00 am: Wake up, stumble out of bed, eat eggs and bacon that my mom fixed, and be on the road by 4:45 (which was always late by his standards).

5:30 am: Boat in the water, helmets on (not kidding), and full throttle with a Johnson 150 hp outboard beast. If youve never experienced this, I can sum it all up in two words—freakin cold!

5:33 am: Arrive at THE fishing hole. We know its THE fishing hole because the previous winter, my Poor Dad and I spent countless hours photographing the bottom of the lake. Again, not kidding.

5:38 am: We spent 12 minutes trying to get my lure out of a tree. At $3 a pop, we would have spent 12 hours if need be.

6:25 am: Having seen absolutely no sign of any fish at THE fishing hole, we power up and zoom off to another fishing hole.

3:32 pm: I havent made a cast in two hours. I sit wondering what my Rich Dad is doing at the country club.

7:00 pm: Weve caught nothing all day. With live bait, we would have had a boat full of fish. But we never used live bait. Somehow live bait gave us an unfair advantage over the fish. We pack up and head home.

The reason Ive regaled you with this story is so youll understand the next step in my Poor Dads journey. In the late 70s, he opened a fishing and archery store in north Columbus called The Big Fisherman. He didnt quit his job at the gas company, but he did borrow against our home to fund the business. He also bought the store the business was in.

During the summers, I often ran the store. We would go entire days without a single customer. I vividly recall watching the Bjorn Borg versus John McEnroe epic battle at Wimbledon on a small black and white TV while potential customers zoomed by without giving us so much as a glance.

In large part because of the poor economic times of the late 70s and early 80s, the business failed. And because my Poor Dad borrowed against our home, bankruptcy and foreclosure hung over our heads. And youre not going to believe what kept us from bankruptcy and foreclosuremy Rich Dads death.

When my dad died, social security sent me a monthly check until I graduated from high school. That check each month went to pay for my Poor Dads business loan that was secured by our home. Ironic, I know.

Lessons Learned

In the book Rich Dad, Poor Dad, Kiyosaki describes what he learned from his Rich Dad. But he seemed not to learn anything from his Poor Dad. I learned a lot from both of them:

Money Doesnt Buy Happiness: Weve all heard this before, but you cant buy contentment. My Rich Dad taught me this, as did my Poor Dad. In many respects, my Poor Dad was more content than my Rich Dad.
Poverty Can Rob You of Happiness: While money cant buy happiness, poverty can rob you of contentment. While we never slept on the street, there were plenty of months where we had no money, no food in the house, and no gas in the car. We had our electricity and gas turned off, and lived paycheck-to-paycheck. I vowed never to live that way if I could help it.
Take Smart Risks: In many ways I respect my Poor Dad for taking the risks he did when he opened his tackle store. The problem is he put his ambitions above his family. Taking risks is part of life, but dont bet the farm. Yes, weve all heard of people who risked everything and it paid off. What we dont hear about are the thousands who did the same thing and lost everything. If you have a family, they come before your ambition.
Save Money: Perhaps above all else, both my Rich Dad and my Poor Dad taught me the importance of saving. They taught me this lesson by showing me the consequences of living without an emergency fund or meaningful retirement account.

In the end, my Rich Dad and Poor Dad both gave me a healthy dose of perspective. The difficult times made me stronger in many ways. My childhood prepared me to be a better father and husband. And it prepared me to handle money more responsibly. Do I wish I had an easier childhood? Perhaps. But it wasnt all bad, and it prepared me to handle the difficult things that life throws at us from time to time.

How has your childhood affected the way you handle money?

Identity Theft Online