My dad and his friend watched as we carefully poured the molten lead through a small hole in the top of the plas- ter-of-paris cube. The Rich Don't Work for Money 33 "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. "What are you boys doing?" he asked with a cautious smile. "We're doing what you told me to do. We're going to be rich," I said. "Yup," said Mike, grinning and nodding his head. "We're partners." "And what is in those plaster molds?" dad asked. "Watch," I said. "This should be a good batch." With a small hammer, I tapped at the seal that divided the cube in half. Cautiously, I pulled up the top half of the plaster mold and a lead nickel fell out. "Oh, my God!" my dad said. "You're casting nickels out of lead." "That's right," Mike said. "We doing as you told us to do. We're making money." My dad's friend turned and burst into laughter. My dad smiled and shook his head. Along with a fire and a box of spent toothpaste tubes, in front of him were two little boys covered with white dust and smiling from ear to ear. He asked us to put everything down and sit with him on the front step of our house. With a smile, he gently ex- plained what the word "counterfeiting" meant. Our dreams were dashed. "You mean this is illegal?" asked Mike in a quivering voice. "Let them go," my dad's friend said. "They might be de- veloping a natural talent." My dad glared at him. "Yes, it is illegal," my dad said gently. "But you boys 34 Rich Dad, Poor Dad have shown great creativity and original thought. Keep going. I'm really proud of you!" Disappointed, Mike and I sat in silence for about twenty minutes before we began cleaning up our mess. The busi- ness was over on opening day. Sweeping the powder up, I looked at Mike and said, "I guess Jimmy and his friends are right. We are poor." My father was just leaving as I said that. "Boys," he said, "you'ronlx.poQiif ,you_give up. The most important thing is That you did something. Most people only talk and dream of getting rich. You've done something. I'm very proud of the two of you. I will say it again. Keep going. Don't quit." Mike and I stood there in silence. They were nice words, but we still did not know what to do. "So how come you're not rich, Dad?" I asked. "Because I chose to be a schoolteacher. Schoolteachers really don't think about being rich. We just like to teach. I wish I could help you, but I really don't know how to make money." Mike and I turned and continued our clean up. "I know," said my dad. "If you boys want to learn how to be rich, don't ask me. Talk to your dad, Mike." "My dad?" asked Mike with a scrunched up face. "Yeah, your dad," repeated my dad with a smile. "Your dad and I have the same banker, and he raves about your father. He's told me several times that your father is bril- liant when it comes to making money.