When I was young, one dollar was a lot of money. I didn't quite understand its value, but I sure as hell knew that if my mother walked into the dollar store with one in her hand, she could come out with a new, cheap, knock-off Barbie doll for me, and naturally, being around the age of four, that was all I cared about.
That one green bill could provide hours upon hours of playtime entertainment, it could afford a little, unrealistic model of a girl with scrappy clothing and ratty hair, but that was good enough for me. That was what a dollar symbolised in my head, and I didn't dwell too much on the thought because I didn't yet know about work, or, come to think of it- much else.
That did come to an end around the age of six, however, when we entered a cheap Halloween costume store where a five dollar bill could give you a small costume. There were rows upon rows of affordable outfits- Cowboys, doctors, policemen, firefighters, and the beloved princess. Once six year old me saw the princess costume, it was all over.
So, two years after the knock-off Barbies dominated the playing field, the one dollar increased to a five and I ran around in a small, ugly, and much too sparkly princess ball gown.
Like all great eras, that too came to an end when I turned eight, which was when my father decided I was old enough to not break his previous Lego train set, and he pulled it down from the attic. I was immediately hooked. Better than costumes and dolls, these toys provided endless opportunity for innovation, building, imagination, organisation, and engineering. In my mind, they symbolised maturity, confidence, intelligence, and my future office as a professional Lego statue builder. They also marked the point in my life where the value of the dollar further decreased, and fifteen was the new standard, because, at the time, fifteen could give you a small Lego set of a few bricks at the store, which was enough for me.
However, soon enough, that was no longer the case, and the suitable amount of money became $100. In my tenth year, I realised that $100 could put one well on their way to affording a Nintendo DSi, which became the thing I had my mind set on in the fourth grade. As soon as my own parents decided to make me start paying for my own luxuries, I decided I had to save to buy myself one. Eventually, I did, but not until I learned what hard work was through extra chores to earn the money, and it lasted for a while.
One hundred dollars was the standard until I turned fifteen, and learned that my theatre group was going on a trip to New York City, and having the rule at my house that I paid for my own luxuries, I was told I would have to buy my own ticket for the trip. And so, $1,000 became the new dollar, and I learned to work for my money by babysitting, mowing lawns, washing lawns, doing odd jobs, running errands, and doing favours. The money was earned, the ticket was bought, and the trip was appreciated.
So no longer is the standard set at a single dollar, but to the hundreds, thousands, and now tens of thousands of dollars for a college tuition. I might long for the days when one dollar was enough to buy a minute of happiness.
