When I was 15 years old, I remember having dinner at a too-nice restaurant with my friend's family in Wisconsin. They would often drive us to our soccer games and have me over for sleepovers.
I deliberately chose the cheapest menu item—a $13 hamburger. This was back when McDonald's still had a burger on the dollar menu. I had cash from a summer job and really wanted to go Dutch, at least this once.
I'd been to their place dozens if not hundreds of times, and I was only able to invite my friend Lucas over maybe twice. On those rare occasions, my house was far less fun than his. I felt extremely guilty about the imbalance in our relationship.
"Joe, let me pay," I started...and was immediately cut off by Lucas's dad.
"Andy, stop, don't argue. You've tried this before. All you have to do is say 'thank you' because it really is my pleasure to buy this dinner. It makes me happy. Your protesting only serves to annoy me and everybody else here. Please, just say 'thanks'...accept it, relax, and enjoy!"
I was shocked into silence. I didn't know how to respond to Joe's forceful logic and obvious economic nonchalance. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and that seared this memory into my brain. I probably just mumbled "OK... thanks..." and blushed nervously.
The aunt and uncle I lived with said many times that we don't need or accept charity. They got mad if someone gave me a ride home from school. They very rarely extended themselves for others. And here was such a stark rebuttal: an abundance mindset shattering the illusion of scarcity. It took me years to absorb.
Now, whenever I have the chance, I emulate my childhood hero and get the bill. When necessary, I demand no protest and tell this story. Now that I have the means, paying it forward is the best way I can show my gratitude for what I was so lovingly, unconditionally given.
I can never repay the Kasle family for all they've done for me over the years. But then I always remember that dinner half a lifetime ago...and I try to remind myself that I don't have to. Indeed, they don't want me to. They want me not to.
Spending quality time with beautiful humans is its own reward. There is no transaction, no accounting, no give and take, no reciprocal matching.
No expectations. No thinking.
Just being present.
What a gift.
It was amazing to spend this Thanksgiving, my first ever, with the family who taught me the meaning of the word.
I'm forever grateful.
I deliberately chose the cheapest menu item—a $13 hamburger. This was back when McDonald's still had a burger on the dollar menu. I had cash from a summer job and really wanted to go Dutch, at least this once.
I'd been to their place dozens if not hundreds of times, and I was only able to invite my friend Lucas over maybe twice. On those rare occasions, my house was far less fun than his. I felt extremely guilty about the imbalance in our relationship.
"Joe, let me pay," I started...and was immediately cut off by Lucas's dad.
"Andy, stop, don't argue. You've tried this before. All you have to do is say 'thank you' because it really is my pleasure to buy this dinner. It makes me happy. Your protesting only serves to annoy me and everybody else here. Please, just say 'thanks'...accept it, relax, and enjoy!"
I was shocked into silence. I didn't know how to respond to Joe's forceful logic and obvious economic nonchalance. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and that seared this memory into my brain. I probably just mumbled "OK... thanks..." and blushed nervously.
The aunt and uncle I lived with said many times that we don't need or accept charity. They got mad if someone gave me a ride home from school. They very rarely extended themselves for others. And here was such a stark rebuttal: an abundance mindset shattering the illusion of scarcity. It took me years to absorb.
Now, whenever I have the chance, I emulate my childhood hero and get the bill. When necessary, I demand no protest and tell this story. Now that I have the means, paying it forward is the best way I can show my gratitude for what I was so lovingly, unconditionally given.
I can never repay the Kasle family for all they've done for me over the years. But then I always remember that dinner half a lifetime ago...and I try to remind myself that I don't have to. Indeed, they don't want me to. They want me not to.
Spending quality time with beautiful humans is its own reward. There is no transaction, no accounting, no give and take, no reciprocal matching.
No expectations. No thinking.
Just being present.
What a gift.
It was amazing to spend this Thanksgiving, my first ever, with the family who taught me the meaning of the word.
I'm forever grateful.
