Papa loves money. A lot. And he loves talking about it.
I don't really care about money. I should (I guess), but I don't. And I hate talking about it.
My sister is convinced that his garden doesn't grow vegetables (he gets those at the Farmer's Market), but grows money and every Fall he goes out and harvests his money trees. Papa tells us we should all go into a room by ourselves with our money, throw it into the air and roll around in it. My cousins are convinced that Papa actually goes to the bank and gets lots of $1 bills then throws it all up in the air so he can dance around and feel the money float down around him.
Papa really wants to see how much money I have in my bank account, but I won't let him. Every night at dinner, he asks me how much money I've saved and if he can see my online account and every night I tell him "I don't like to talk about money and I'm not giving you my password." He then resorts to snooping through my mail, though in a round-about way. Since I'm not home during the day, Papa always puts my mail on my bed. If there is a check stub or a credit card bill in the mail, however, Papa will ask me: "Did you see your mail on the bed? I think there was something important in there" at which time I tell him "I don't like to talk about money and I'm not giving you my password." The other day, he told me:
Papa: I see you got some mail.
Julie: Yeah, it was just a newsletter.
Papa: From your credit union?
Papa: I thought about opening it, but I decided not to.
Grammy: You better not open her mail!
Papa: I didn't. It would have caused problems. Grammy would have been mad at me.
Julie: Thanks, Grammy.
He can sit for hours watching the stock market channels. I don't know how he does it. It truly is a skill. At Christmastime, Papa got a Christmas card from his broker in Jefferson City and he couldn't read his signature. This was also around the time that Madoff ran off with all that money, so Papa was already wary of stock brokers. Anyway, he was so upset about Madoff and the fact that he couldn't read his broker's signature that he started exclaiming that he is going to get a new broker and he's never really liked this guy and he can't read his signature and he wants a female broker because they are nicer and more trustworthy. I don't know how he went from "Look at the Christmas card I got from my broker" to "I'm switching to a female broker because she's more trustworthy and I bet I could read her signature."
Papa is pretty sneaky when it comes to figuring out how much money people have. When he and Grammy got their social security checks in the mail, he "accidently" picked up Grammy's to open and read, but Grammy caught him. After he looked at his own, he asked Grammy if she wanted to look at his so she took it from him and he told her since she is looking at his he wants to look at hers. He likes to know things.