When I came home from the Navy in September 1962 to go to school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill my father and mother gave me $100 to buy civilian clothes — and wished me good luck.
That $100 was $100 more than I expected. I was 20 years old. I had been to sea. I was engaged to be married the following June. I was full grown.
I had saved most of my pay while I was in the service. After we were married, Donna, my wife, worked full time as a secretary in the UNC School of Nursing until Bo was born 11 months later. She worked all day the day before he was born. After Bo arrived she typed term papers and babysat to earn money.
I worked up to 30 hours a week at the UNC Office of Sports Information after class and on weekends. The School of Journalism gave me a scholarship my junior and senior years.
My senior year we borrowed $450 from Brother Dave so I could quit my part-time job to get experience that would help me when I graduated — I took a pay cut from my $1 an hour job so I could work after class for the school newspaper, The Daily Tar Heel.
All in all, we did OK moneywise — we finished in four years with three babies and no debt other than what we owed Dave.
Still, I don’t recommend that plan. I wonder sometimes what it would have been like to have spent the afternoon in Louis Round Wilson Library studying just for the joy of it instead of studying for a test, to make a grade.
Or maybe even taking an afternoon off and throwing a Frisbee.
Coming Friday: Lost in Moscow
