Dollars & Sense

I'll try to ignore the fact that H. and Figgy just got into a big argument [at 10 P.M.] about a late algebra product that is 20 percent of her grade. She hates algebra, and just between you and me, H.'s strength is not math. So it was not a pleasant scene. I'm feeling very upset, but what I really wanted to blog about tonight is Chase Bank and Figgy. So I'll just plod ahead.

Rite of Passage
When I was a teen, I had a blue passbook from Provident Savings Bank on Washington Avenue in Dumont. Every time I made a deposit or withdrawal, I presented that little book. I was proud. I'd go there every time I got a paycheck from the Twin-Boro News, where I worked as a typesetter, and from my other summer jobs. I paid for half of my entire college education and my parents paid for the other half. [Amazingly, it cost only $3,600 annually, counting room, board and books, to attend Douglass College at Rutgers University when I was a student.]

But banks don't have those passbooks anymore. The teller at Chase said some banks that are just savings banks might, but Chase doesn't.

Still, I want Figgy to get connected to saving money, to earning, to working for her college education, even if the interest rate is so dismal now. [I guess it's a little late in the game--some friends had three jars for their son when he was about five, one marked Spend, one Save, one Charity. I really admired that.] So today we went into the bank on the corner of Valley Road and Bellevue Avenue in Upper Montclair. Its name has changed a few times, but it's the one with the historic clock out front.

I just read on Wikipedia that the landmark clock dates back to about 1910. Those are the hands everyone checks as they scurry to school pickup, Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts, the sushi place and, especially, the old Bellevue Theatre, just up the street.

There's also an old-fashioned gilded night depository box outside, with a big handle, and when Figgy was little, we noticed a dead bird that had somehow been trapped behind the metal grid above the slot; you could see dark feathers from the outside. We went in and told an employee. It was really odd to contemplate how the bird got in there. She must have flown in with a night deposit...and it took months for her to be taken out of her gilded cage.

Does money clip the wings of beauty?

The Hands of Time
Upper Montclair is a wealthy town; I'm sure that if those safe deposit vaults and chandeliers could talk, they'd have quite the tales to tell.

Figgy looked up at the beautiful high ceilings and the elegant lighting fixtures.

"They should turn this into a ballroom," she said as we waited our turn. I think she could probably visualize herself twirling around in a flowing gown, maybe with a tiara. But I'm just guessing.

Baby Steps
It's the bank where we had Figgy's gift money, savings, etc. until I transferred it to a 529 college savings plan through upromise.com. It grows better there. But let's just say that we have a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long way to go. Hearing how much Moey's son Kevin will need for one year at Syracuse starting in September is terrifying.

Still, Figgy gives me 20 percent of her baby-sitting earnings, and we put those in. She might start a portrait business, and that would be great. I also put in any small checks we receive in the mail--like a $5 refund for buying Sorrento string cheese, or an odd $9.06 refund from Oxford Health Plans.

I just put her bank statement and the transaction register that the teller gave us in a pink Lilly Pulitzer folder. I had Figgy fill in the first line on the register.

"This is so legit," she said.

Looking Forward
Right now, Figgy and H. are both licking their wounds, so to speak. One is in the tub, the other is lying in bed. I still feel very upset. Why can't H. deal calmly with these things?

Still, I have faith that I banked some good lessons with Figgy today.

Go, Figgy, go. May you be more like your grandparents in terms of saving and less like your mother in terms of spending.