From Piggy Banks to Wealth Management: A Filipino-American’s Journey to Financial Wisdom

by Richard Valdez - www.richardvaldezre.com

I’m turning 61 this September, and in five years, my husband, our four dogs, and I will pack up our lives in San Francisco and head back to the Philippines. A new chapter. A new horizon. But like most chapters, this one comes with a preface—mine in the shape of a bubblegum-pink porcelain pig.

When I was a kid, my grandmother took me to pick out my first piggy bank. She was expecting me to choose something sensible—blue for boys, maybe green for growth—but I went straight for the pink, because, let’s face it, I was already fabulous at six.

Every day I fed that pig—coins, paper bills, whatever I could. Sometimes, I’d shake it just to feel the weight of my fortune. When it was finally full, my grandmother popped open its little cork belly, and out spilled a pile of dreams disguised as loose change. I thought I was rich. I thought I was about to buy… I don’t know… a bike, a Walkman, maybe even a ticket out of childhood.

But instead, she took me to the bank. And just like that, my money—my pink pig money—was gone into a savings account. I was devastated. She, however, was glowing. She told me, “Having money is security, not happiness. Find ways to be happy without spending.”

Fast-forward to now. After talking with our financial planner, I realized we’ve basically turned our savings into a giant, grown-up piggy bank called “wealth management,” one that gives us just 2% of its interest each year. My grandmother’s lesson suddenly rang in my ears—loud, clear, and in her Sunday-best Ilocano accent.

Because maybe the real secret to wealth isn’t in spending it. It’s in knowing you can, but choosing not to.

And as I looked out my window at the fog curling over Twin Peaks, I wondered—was my grandmother actually my first financial advisor… or just the first person to tell me I could be rich without ever buying a thing?