富爸爸,穷爸爸(英文版)-第3部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


My　poor　dad　would　also　say；　〃I'm　not　interested　in　money；〃　or　〃Money　doesn't　matter。〃　My　rich　dad　always　said；　〃Money　is　power。〃
The　power　of　our　thoughts　may　never　be　measured　or　appreciated；　but　it　became　obvious　to　me　as　a　young　boy　to　be　aware　of　my　thoughts　and　how　I　expressed　myself。　I　noticed　that　my　poor　dad　was　poor　not　because　of　the　amount　of　money　he　earned；　which　was　significant；　but
because　of　his　thoughts　and　actions。　As　a　young　boy；　having　two　fathers；　I　became　acutely　aware　of　being　careful　which　thoughts　I　chose　to　adopt　as　my　own。　Whom　should　I　listen　to…my　rich　dad　or　my　poor　dad？
Although　both　men　had　tremendous　respect　for　education　and　learning；　they　disagreed　in　what　they　thought　was　important　to　learn。　One　wanted　me　to　study　hard；　earn　a　degree　and　get　a　good　job　to　work　for　money。　He　wanted　me　to　study　to　bee　a　professional；　an　attorney　or　an　accountant　or　to　go　to　business　school　for　my　MBA。　The　other　encouraged　me　to　study　to　be　rich；　to　understand　how　money　works　and　to　learn　how　to　have　it　work　for　me。　〃I　don't　work　for　money！〃　were　words　he　would　repeat　over　and　over；　〃Money　works　for　me！〃
At　the　age　of　9；　I　decided　to　listen　to　and　learn　from　my　rich　dad　about　money。　In　doing　so；　I　chose　not　to　listen　to　my　poor　dad；　even　though　he　was　the　one　with　all　the　college　degrees。

A　Lesson　From　Robert　Frost

Robert　Frost　is　my　favourite　poet。　Although　I　love　many　of　his　poems；　my　favorite　is　The　Road　Not　Taken。　I　use　its　lesson　almost　daily：

The　Road　Not　Taken

Two　roads　diverged　in　a　yellow　wood；　And　sorry　I　could　not　travel　both　And　be　one　traveler；　long　I　stood　And　looked　down　one　as　far　as　I　could　To　where　it　bent　in　the　undergrowth；
Then　took　the　other；　as　just　as　fair；　And　having　perhaps　the　better　claim；　Because　it　was　grassy　and　wanted　wear　Though　as　for　that　the　passing　there　Had　worn　them　really　about　the　same；
And　both　that　morning　equally　lay　In　leaves　no　step　had　trodden　black。　Oh；　I　kept　the　first　for　another　day！　Yet　knowing　how　way　leads　onto　way；　I　doubted　if　I　should　ever　e　back。
I　shall　be　telling　this　with　a　sigh　Somewhere　ages　and　ages　hence；　Two　roads　diverged　in　a　wood；　and　I　took　the　one　less　traveled　by；　And　that　has　made　all　the　difference。
Robert　Frost（1916）

And　that　made　all　the　difference。
Over　the　years；　I　have　often　reflected　upon　Robert　Frost's　poem。　Choosing　not　to　listen　to　my　highly　educated　dad's　advice　and　attitude　about　money　was　a　painful　decision；　but　it　was　a　decision　that　shaped　the　rest　of　my　life。
Once　I　made　up　my　mind　whom　to　listen　to；　my　education　about　money　began。　My　rich　dad　taught　me　over　a　period　of　30　years；　until　I　was　age　39。　He　stopped　once　he　realized　that　I　knew　and　fully　understood　what　he　had　been　trying　to　drum　into　my　often　thick　skull。
Money　is　one　form　of　power。　But　what　is　more　powerful　is　financial　education。　Money　es　and　goes；　but　if　you　have　the　education　about　how　money　works；　you　gain　power　over　it　and　can　begin　building　wealth。　The　reason　positive　thinking　alone　does　not　work　is　because　most　people　went　to　school　and　never　learned　how　money　works；　so　they　spend　their　lives　working　for　money。
Because　I　was　only　9　years　old　when　I　started；　the　lessons　my　rich　dad　taught　me　were　simple。　And　when　it　was　all　said　and　done；　there　were　only　six　main　lessons；　repeated　over　30　years。　This　book　is　about　those　six　lessons；　put　as　simply　as　possible　as　my　rich　dad　put　forth　those　lessons　to　me。　The　lessons　are　not　meant　to　be　answers　but　guideposts。　Guideposts　that　will　assist　you　and　your　children　to　grow　wealthier　no　matter　what　happens　in　a　world　of　increasing　change　and　uncertainty。

Lesson　#1　The　Rich　Don't　Work　for　Money
Lesson　#2　Why　Teach　Financial　Literacy？
Lesson　#3　Mind　Your　own　Business
Lesson　#4　The　History　of　Taxes　and　the　　Power　of　Corporations
Lesson　#5　The　Rich　Invent　Money
Lesson　#6　Work　to　Learn　Don't　Work　for　Money

CHAPTER　TWO　
Lesson　One：　The　Rich　Don't　Work　For　Money

〃Dad；　Can　You　Tell　Me　How　to　Get　Rich？〃
My　dad　put　down　the　evening　paper。　〃Why　do　you　want　to　get　rich；　son？〃
〃Because　today　Jimmy's　mom　drove　up　in　their　new　Cadillac；　and　they　were　going　to　their　beach　house　for　the　weekend。　He　took　three　of　his　friends；　but　Mike　and　I　weren't　invited。　They　told　us　we　weren't　invited　because　we　were　‘poor　kids'。〃
〃They　did？〃　my　dad　asked　incredulously。
〃Yeah；　they　did。〃　I　replied　in　a　hurt　tone。
My　dad　silently　shook　his　head；　pushed　his　glasses　up　the　bridge　of　his　nose　and　went　back　to　reading　the　paper。　I　stood　waiting　for　an　answer。
The　year　was　1956。　I　was　9　years　old。　By　some　twist　of　fate；　I　attended　the　same　public　school　where　the　rich　people　sent　their　kids。　We　were　primarily　a　sugar　plantation　town。　The　managers　of　the　plantation　and　the　other　affluent　people　of　the　town；　such　as　doctors；　business　owners；　and　bankers；　sent　their　children　to　this　school；　grades　1　to　6。　After　grade　6；　their　children　were　generally　sent　off　to　private　schools。　Because　my　family　lived　on　one　side　of　the　street；　I　went　to　this　school。　Had　I　lived　on　the　other　side　of　the　street；　I　would　have　gone　to　a　different　school；　with　kids　from　families　more　like　mine。　After　grade　6；these　kids　and　I　would　go　on　to　the　public　intermediate　and　high　school。　There　was　no　private　school　for　them　or　for　me。
My　dad　finally　put　down　the　paper。　I　could　tell　he　was　thinking。
〃Well；　son；〃　he　began　slowly。　〃If　you　want　to　be　rich；　you　have　to　learn　to　make　money。〃
〃How　do　I　make　money？〃　I　asked。
〃Well；　use　your　head；　son；〃　he　said；　smiling。　Which　really　meant；　〃That's　all　I'm　going　to　tell　you；〃　or　〃I　don't　know　the　answer；　so　don't　embarrass　me。〃

A　Partnership　Is　Formed

The　next　morning；　I　told　my　best　friend；　Mike；　what　my　dad　had　said。　As　best　I　could　tell；　Mike　and　I　were　the　only　poor　kids　in　this　school。　Mike　was　like　me　in　that　he　was　in　this　school　by　a　twist　of　fate。　Someone　had　drawn　a　jog　in　the　line　for　the　school　district；　and　we　wound　up　in　school　with　the　rich　kids。　We　weren't　really　poor；　but　we　felt　as　if　we　were　because　all　the　other　boys　had　new　baseball　gloves；　；；；y
new　bicycles；　new　everything。
Mom　and　dad　provided　us　with　the　basics；　like　food；　shelter；　clothes。　：；　But　that　was　about　it。　My　dad　used　to　say；　〃If　you　want　something；　work　for　it。〃　We　wanted　things；　but　there　was　not　much　work　available　for　9…　；　year…old　boys。
〃So　what　do　we　do　to　make　money？〃　Mike　asked。
〃I　don't　know；〃　I　said。　〃But　do　you　want　to　be　my　partner？〃
He　agreed　and　so　on　that　Saturday　morning；　Mike　became　my　first　business　partner。　We　spent　all　morning　ing　up　with　ideas　on　how　to　1'make　money。　Occasionally　we　talked　about　all　the　〃cool　guys〃　at　Jimmy's　beach　house　having　fun。　It　hurt　a　little；　but　that　hurt　was　good；　for　it　inspired　us　to　keep　thinking　of　a　way　to　make　money。　Finally；　that　afternoon；　a　bolt　of　lightning　came　through　our　heads。　It　was　an　idea　Mike　had　gotten　from　a　science　book　he　had　read。　Excitedly；　we　shook　hands；　and　the　partnership　now　had　a　business。
For　the　next　several　weeks；　Mike　and　I　ran　around　our　neighborhood；　knocking　on　doors　and　asking　our　neighbors　if　they　would　save　their　toothpaste　tubes　for　us。　With　puzzled　looks；　most　adults　consented　with　a　smile。　Some　asked　us　what　we　were　doing。　To　which　we　replied；　〃We　can't　tell　you。　It's　a　business　secret。〃
My　mom　grew　distressed　as　the　weeks　wore　on。　We　had　selected　a
site　next　to　her　washing　machine　as　the　place　we　would　stockpile　our　raw　materials。　In　a　brown　cardboard　box　that　one　time　held　catsup　bottles；　our　little　pile　of　used　toothpaste　tubes　began　to　grow。
Finally　my　mom　put　her　foot　down。　The　sight　of　her　neighbors'　；　messy；　crumpled　used　toothpaste　tubes　had　gotten　to　her。　〃What　are　you　boys　doing？〃　she　asked。　〃And　I　don't　want　to　hear　again　that　it's　a　business　secret。　Do　something　with　this　mess　or　I'm　going　to　throw　it　out。〃
Mike　and　I　pleaded　and　begged；　explaining　that　we　would　soon　have　enough　and　then　we　would　begin　production。　We　informed　her　that　we　were　waiting　on　a　couple　of　neighbors　to　finish　using　up　their　toothpaste　so　we　could　have　their　tubes。　Mom　granted　us　a　one…week　extension。
The　date　to　begin　production　was　moved　up。　The　pressure　was　on。　My　first　partnership　was　already　being　threatened　with　an　eviction　notice　from　our　warehouse　space　by　my　own　mom。　It　became　Mike's　job　to　tell　the　neighbors　to　quickly　use　up　their　toothpaste；　saying　their　dentist　wanted　them　to　brush　more　often　anyway。　I　began　to　put　together　the　production　line。
One　day　my　dad　drove　up　with　a　friend　to　see　two　9…year…old　boys　。　in　the　driveway　with　a　production　line　operating　at　full　speed。　There　was　fine　white　powder　everywhere。　On　a　long　table　were　small　milk　cartons　from　school；　and　our　family's　hibachi　grill　was　glowing　with　red　hot　coals　at　maximum　heat。
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；　with　the　toothpaste　tubes　being　melted　down。　In　those　days；　toothpaste　did　not　e　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；　melted　until　they　became　liquid；　and　with　my　mom's　pot　holders　we　were　pouring　the　lead　through　a　small　hole　in　the　top　of　the　milk　cartons。
The　milk　cartons　were　filled　with　plaster…of…Paris。　The　white　powder　everywhere　was　the　plaster　before　we　mixed　it　with　water。　In　my　haste；　I　had　knocked　the　bag　over；　and　the　entire　area　look　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？〃　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；　my　God！〃　my　dad　said。　〃You're　casting　nickels　out　of　lead。〃
〃That's　right；〃　Mike　said。　〃We　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　and　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　e　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　clean　up。
〃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　es　to　making　money。〃
〃My　dad？〃　Mike　asked　again　in　disbelief。　〃Then　how　e　we　don't　have　a　nice　car　and　a　nice　house　like　the　rich　kids　at　school？〃
〃A　nice　car　and　a　nice　house　does　not　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　pany；　and　I　work　for　the　government。　The　pany　buys　the　car　for　him。　The　sugar　pany　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　on　how　and　when　to　talk　to　Mike's　dad。　The　problem　was　that　Mike's　dad　worked　long　hours　and　often　did　not　e　home　until　late。　His　father　owned　warehouses；　a　construction　pany；　a　chain　of　stores；　and　three　restaurants。　It　was　the　restaurants　that　kept　him　out　late。
Mike　caught　the　bus　home　after　we　had　finished　cleaning　up。　He　was　going　to　talk　to　his　dad　when　he　got　home　that　night　and　ask　him　if　he　would　teach　us　how　to　bee　rich。　Mike　promised　to　call　as　soon　as　he　had　talked　to　his　dad；　even　if　it　was　late。
The　phone　rang　at　8：30　p。m。
〃OK；〃　I　said。　〃Next　Saturday。〃　And　put　the　phone　down。　Mike's　dad　had　agreed　to　meet　with　Mike　and　me。
At　7：30　Saturday　morning；　I　caught　the　bus　to　the　poor　side　of　town。
The　Lessons　Begin：

〃I'll　pay　you　10　cents　an　hour。　〃
Even　by　1956　pay　standards；　10　cents　an　hour　was　low。
Michael　and　I　met　with　his　dad　that　morning　at　8　o'clock。　He　was　already　busy　and　had　been　at　work　for　more　than　an　hour。　His　construction　supervisor　was　just　leaving　in　his　pickup　truck　as　I　walked　up　to　his　simple；　small　and　tidy　home。　Mike　met　me　at　the　door。
〃Dad's　on　the　phone；　and　he　said　to　wait　on　the　back　porch；〃　Mike　said　as　he　opened　the　door。
The　old　wooden　floor　creaked　as　I　steppedacross　the　threshold　of　this　aging　house。　There　was　a　cheap　mat　just　inside　the　door。　The　mat　was　there　to　hide　the　years　of　wear　from　countless　footsteps　that　the　floor　had　supported。　Although　clean；　it　needed　to　be　replaced。
I　felt　claustrophobic　as　I　entered　the　narrow　living　room；　which　was　filled　with　old　musty　overstuffed　furniture　that　today　would　be　collector's　items。　Sitting　on　the　couch　were　two　women；　a　little　older　than　my　mom。　Across　from　the　women　sat　a　man　in　workman's　clothes。　He　wore　khaki　slacks　and　a　khaki　shirt；　neatly　pressed　but　without　starch；　and　polished　work　books。　He　was　about　10　years　older　than　my　dad；　I'd　say　about　45　years　old。　They　smiled　as　Mike　and　I　walked　past　them；　heading　for　the　kitchen；　which　lead　to　the　porch　that　overlooked　the　back　yard。　I　smiled　back　shyly。
〃Who　are　those　people？〃　I　asked。
〃Oh；　they　work　for　my　dad。　The