You Need to Leave

Julia was put on notice.

“I have some good news and some bad news for you,” I said to my daughter as we were driving back from her college graduation in May of 2004.

“What's the good news?” she asked.

I explained, "Over ten years ago, Mom and I set some money aside for you in what is called a Custodial Account. We did it based on a recommendation from a wealth manager. And now that you are 21, the money is yours.”

"How much money are you talking about?" she asked.

"There’s about $60,000. This money will be in your bank account by the end of the week."

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "That is so much money. Thank you."

"Now for the bad news." 

"There is bad news?" she asked.

"You have to leave our home by the end of August. You need to find your own apartment," I said.

This freaked her out. She couldn't believe I was kicking her out of the house. She had no job. She didn't know what she wanted to do for a living. She had good grades and a liberal arts degree with a double major in Philosophy and French.

"Where will I live? You can't do this to me," she said. "It is not fair. I need more time to figure all this out."

You have a little over three months. That's enough time. I am happy to talk through this with you. I'll help you find work if you choose to do something where I have some contacts.

Silenced ensued. We continued to make our way home. We were somewhere in Virginia, traveling on I-81 South. We didn't say a word to each other for the next 100 miles. She was processing this information. She was focused on her immediate future as a newly minted college graduate.

What happened next?

The freakouts continued from time to time. They got less intense as the first couple of months went by. She started to live by her own rules while still in our house, which had me freaking out. Then, one day, she decided to go to law school.

I called a couple of attorney friends and asked for their advice. They told me to have her work in a law firm doing admin work so she could get a sense of what it feels and looks like to be a lawyer. One of my friends gave her a job and took her under his wing.

She did well. She enjoyed the environment. She applied to law schools and was admitted to the University of Miami and Georgia State Law.

We went to Miami (my alma mater). The visit included a full-day orientation, including lunch. It was a beautiful school in an idyllic setting in Coral Gables, Florida.

A week later, we attended the Georgia State orientation, which was two hours long and began at 6:30 PM in downtown Atlanta.

I was sitting by a woman my age and asked her, "Is your child considering attending this law school?"

"No," she said. “I am going to go here. All my life, I wanted to be a lawyer. I had to wait for my kids to leave home so I could pursue my professional dreams.”

I congratulated her but thought to myself, "This place is very different from the University of Miami." That's when I looked around the room of orientation attendees.

The diversity was striking—race, age, gender—it was all there. "What a great place to go to law school," I said to myself. Graduate from here, and she will know what the real world is like. These people will make her grow up quickly.

Julia knew that if she went to law school, she would have to pay for it out of her new-found nest egg.

As we were driving back home, I asked. "What do you think?"

She said, "The University of Miami is really nice—in fact, it is beautiful—but it is way too expensive. I'm going to Georgia State."

My first thought was to throw her out of the car while we were traveling at 70 mph on I-75. After all, I paid for private education through high school and then four years of private college in upstate NY, including room, board, spending money, tuition, and trips back and forth to home. I call this a my money decision. 

My second thought was, “Now it is her money decision.” She was learning what it cost to live life. She was making a smart choice with her money and would practice law in Atlanta. Graduating from Miami would result in student debt and working as a lawyer in Florida. I was proud of her for thinking this through and making her own decisions for her life and her future.

All this happened because she had starter funds and realized she was really on her own. She was no longer a child and dependent. She was a graduate, a woman, and she was capable.

As the oldest of our four children, she set the new Paparelli Family Post-Graduate Independence Plan standard. When each of the other three graduated from college, there was no freaking out. They each got their starter funds and were out within three months.

They are all doing well. 

And so are Kathy and I.