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第4部分（第1页）

r　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　Dont　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　Dont　Work　for　Money

CHAPTER　TWO

Lesson　One：　The　Rich　Dont　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　Jimmys　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　werent　invited。　They　told　us　we　werent　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；　〃Thats　all　Im　going　to　tell　you；〃　or　〃I　dont　know　the　answer；　so　dont　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　werent　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　dont　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　1make　money。　Occasionally　we　talked　about　all　the　〃cool　guys〃　at　Jimmys　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　cant　tell　you。　Its　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　dont　want　to　hear　again　that　its　a　business　secret。　Do　something　with　this　mess　or　Im　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　Mikes　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　familys　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　moms　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。

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