“Don’t you marry no poor boy. You hear me?” These were words of wisdom spoken to me forty-some-odd years ago by the woman who practically raised me – the dearest woman in the world to me. Annie had been poor all her life. I was in college, young, innocent – no, not just innocent. Naïve. I laughed and told her I was going to marry for love, not money.
Now I have a daughter of my own. She has dated many a “poor boy” and has not found the right one yet. I keep telling her that she needs someone who will support her, not the other way around.
It’s not that wealth can buy happiness. And it’s not that loving a poor boy can’t make you happy. (Loving a rich boy can, too.) How do I explain it? It’s the drive, the ambition, the goals, the character one builds striving to achieve those goals. It’s that wholesome grabbing of life by the horns (or whatever) and running with it. It’s sort of like Olive Oil singing, “I want a clean-shaven man.”
After thinking through this, I decided the best advice I can give my daughter is this: “Don’t you marry no poor boy. You hear me?”
Now I have a daughter of my own. She has dated many a “poor boy” and has not found the right one yet. I keep telling her that she needs someone who will support her, not the other way around.
It’s not that wealth can buy happiness. And it’s not that loving a poor boy can’t make you happy. (Loving a rich boy can, too.) How do I explain it? It’s the drive, the ambition, the goals, the character one builds striving to achieve those goals. It’s that wholesome grabbing of life by the horns (or whatever) and running with it. It’s sort of like Olive Oil singing, “I want a clean-shaven man.”
After thinking through this, I decided the best advice I can give my daughter is this: “Don’t you marry no poor boy. You hear me?”
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