The pickle jar house…

Early 2000s…Northwest Tennessee.

The two of us. Two jobs each, and a little freelance newspaper writing gig on the side for me.

By day, I was learning the ropes of news radio broadcasting with a title that outdid my experience- News Director. Friday nights and weekends belonged to waitressing at a sweet little country-style restaurant.

We were living in a house that we were working to purchase. It was a traditional, old two story and full basement home with custom built-in cabinets in the dining room.

In those cabinets was the pickle jar…

This jar represented everything we monetarily wanted in our future. Stability, growth, financial security and a home that was ours.

I recently saw a meme with Elon Musk’s image that essentially said the rich invest, while the middle class saves. And although there’s certainly truth in that statement, no matter where one classifies, saving is security. Non-risk security. And that is exactly what we were immersed in ensuring we obtained.

Every single bill, coin and tiny little $2 per hour waitressing paycheck I received from serving hot coffee, fried food and a smile went directly into that pickle jar. Not the safest, fiscally intelligent way to save, but something about the slow rise of coins, bills and checks piled in the glass kept our young eyes brightly focused on the goal.

…until the day we cashed it all in across an office table. The two of us- early 20 somethings with nothing but that pickle jar, our promises and our signatures.

And our adventure into home ownership began…with our sweet little pickle jar house.

A winter snapshot…our house was white when we purchased it, but I painted it khaki and mauve to match the mansion just around the corner- the mansion that belonged to former Tennessee Governor Ned Ray McWherter.

Assuredly, my color change was an indication of my perpetual way of thinking. See the best…do your best to be the best.