Lessons I Learned from Collecting Cans as a Kid

Remember when video games first came out?

I do.

In the early 80s when video games really started to become a thing, my brother Talbott and I really wanted a video game console. So, we did what most kids do, and went and begged our dad for an Atari.

Looking back on it, around the same time we wanted an Atari, our life was changing drastically. We had downsized from a large home, a block off of Lake Michigan in the suburb of Shorewood, Wisconsin to a smaller home in a more modest neighborhood in Oak Park, Illinois.

I didn’t know then, but my father had stepped down from his senior faculty position at a medical school to do a second residency in obstetrics and gynecology. So, not only did we have one less car and a smaller home, but our household income for a family of five went down significantly. 

At the time, there probably wasn't a lot of extra money for an Atari. I didn't understand all of that back then, but I did know one thing clearly: we wanted an Atari.

So, when we asked my dad for an Atari and he challenged us "to raise some money” and buy one ourselves…

…my brother Talbott and I had a mission.

In order to raise money for our new Atari - like my dad had challenged us to do - Talbott and I came up with the idea that we would go door to door around our neighborhood and collect cans. In Chicago at that time, you could get money for cans. So, we took our little red radio flyer wagon - you know, the one with the wooden sides that came off - and went around our neighborhood asking for cans.

We lived in a busy, high-traffic area in an old historic area of Oak Park, Illinois, and spent what felt like all of our free time knocking on our neighbors’ doors and collecting cans. Once we told our neighbors what we were doing, they started collecting cans for us and supporting our mission.

I remember one lady specifically who lived down the street. After the third or fourth weekend in a row we went around collecting cans, she started preparing for us. Each Saturday she saw us walking down the street with our wagon, she would run inside and come out with a lot of cans - almost a whole wagon full! She wanted us to get our Atari almost as badly as we did. In my head, we spent every weekend for a couple of years collecting cans. In truth, I bet in about 7 or 8 weekends we had collected enough cans to pay for about half of our Atari.

Once we got to about half of what we needed, our dad kicked in the rest and we went and bought our first Atari! 

We were so excited, not just because we finally had our very own video game console, but because we had worked so hard to get it!  It wasn't just like we went around for one day, we worked toward our goal weekend after weekend. We had really put in effort!

What lessons did I learn from this? 

1. If you put in the effort, people will see it and want to step in and contribute to your success! My dad never told us he was going to pitch in the second half of the cost of the Atari. He was so proud of the effort we were putting in, so he wanted to help us too!

2. There are people around you all the time that are your cheerleaders and you don't even know it. When we would walk around with our wagon, people would always wish us words of encouragement. One neighbor made a point to ask us about our progress when we walked to school. This neighbor was our biggest fan and helped us stay motivated by talking about our goals.

3. People drink a lot of beer. I mean a lot! My family members were never really drinkers, so Talbott and I were always so shocked by all of the beer cans we collected! 

4. Good, hard work does pay off, just not always right away. It takes time, and we did that weekend after weekend.

5. You can be successful using the resources you have.  We grabbed our wagon that we already had, we put on our tennis shoes, and we started walking. We used the resources we had, and that was enough!

A few photos of my dad doing pediatric home visits in Memphis in the 60s.