EPISODE 3
Dad walked up cautiously, having to park the car at the base of
the driveway since the production line blocked the carport. As he and
his friend got closer, they saw a steel pot sitting on top of the coals in
which the toothpaste tubes were being melted down. In those days,
toothpaste did not come in plastic tubes. The tubes were made of
lead. So once the paint was burned off, the tubes were dropped in the
small steel pot. They melted until they became liquid, and with my
mom’s pot holders, we poured the lead through a small hole in the
top of the milk cartons.
The milk cartons were filled with plaster of paris. White powder
was everywhere. In my haste, I had knocked the bag over, and the
entire area looked like it had been hit by a snowstorm. The milk
cartons were the outer containers for plaster of paris molds.
My dad and his friend watched as we carefully poured the molten
lead through a small hole in the top of the plaster of paris cube.
“Careful,” my dad said.
I nodded without looking up.
Finally, once the pouring was through, I put the steel pot down
and smiled at my dad.
“What are you boys doing?” he asked with a cautious smile.
“We’re doing what you told me to do. We’re going to be rich,”
I said.
“Yup,” said Mike, grinning and nodding his head. “We’re partners.”
“And what is in those plaster molds?” my dad asked.
“Watch,” I said. “This should be a good batch.”
With a small hammer, I tapped at the seal that divided the cube
in half. Cautiously, I pulled up the top half of the plaster mold and a
lead nickel fell out.
“Oh, no!” my dad exclaimed. “You’re casting nickels out of lead!”
“That’s right,” Mike said. “We’re doing as you told us to do. We’re
making money.”
My dad’s friend turned and burst into laughter. My dad smiled
and shook his head. Along with a fire and a box of spent toothpaste
tubes, in front of him were two little boys covered with white dust
smiling from ear to ear.
He asked us to put everything down and sit with him on the front
step of our house. With a smile, he gently explained what the word
“counterfeiting” meant.
Our dreams were dashed. “You mean this is illegal?” asked Mike
in a quivering voice.
“Let them go,” my dad’s friend said. “They might be developing a
natural talent.”
My dad glared at him.
“Yes, it is illegal,” my dad said gently. “But you boys have shown
great creativity and original thought. Keep going. I’m really proud
of you!”
Disappointed, Mike and I sat in silence for about twenty minutes
before we began cleaning up our mess. The business was over on
opening day. Sweeping the powder up, I looked at Mike and said,
“I guess Jimmy and his friends are right. We are poor.”
My father was just leaving as I said that. “Boys,” he said. “You’re
only poor if you give up. The most important thing is that you did
something. Most people only talk and dream of getting rich. You’ve
done something. I’m very proud of the two of you. I will say it again:
Keep going. Don’t quit.”
Mike and I stood there in silence. They were nice words, but we
still did not know what to do.
“So how come you’re not rich, Dad?” I asked.
“Because I chose to be a schoolteacher. Schoolteachers really don’t
think about being rich. We just like to teach. I wish I could help you,
but I really don’t know how to make money.”
Mike and I turned and continued our cleanup.
“I know,” said my dad. “If you boys want to learn how to be
rich, don’t ask me. Talk to your dad, Mike.”
“My dad?” asked Mike with a scrunched-up face.
“Yeah, your dad,” repeated my dad with a smile. “Your dad
and I have the same banker, and he raves about your father. He’s
told me several times that your father is brilliant when it comes to
making money.”
“My dad?” Mike asked again in disbelief. “Then how come we
don’t have a nice car and a nice house like the rich kids at school?”
“A nice car and a nice house don’t necessarily mean you’re rich or
you know how to make money,” my dad replied. “Jimmy’s dad works for
the sugar plantation. He’s not much different from me. He works for a
company, and I work for the government. The company buys the car for
him. The sugar company is in financial trouble, and Jimmy’s dad may
soon have nothing. Your dad is different, Mike. He seems to be building
an empire, and I suspect in a few years he will be a very rich man.”
With that, Mike and I got excited again. With new vigor, we began
cleaning up the mess caused by our now-defunct first business. As we
were cleaning, we made plans for how and when to talk to Mike’s dad.
The problem was that Mike’s dad worked long hours and often did not
come home until late. His father owned warehouses, a construction
company, a chain of stores, and three restaurants. It was the restaurants
that kept him out late.