The Tradition of Hamburger Money

My dad’s scribbled handwriting on a letter meant one thing: hamburger money. This wasn’t a few dollars to go visit your local Char Grill—it was a historical tradition of family encouragement.

I arrived at this subject as I was thinking of 2006. With a new year unfolding before me, I thought it was a great time to take stock of the kind of person I want to become more of this year. Without question, my desire is to be the kind of person that can find a way to keep the delight of the holidays all year long. And the way I hope to start is with the fine gift of hamburger money.

The tradition of hamburger money started long ago when my dad was a kid selling street fare in Puerto Rico. He was a Depression-era kid, watching the good times roll and watching all the servants roll out all their possessions. When he went off to medical school in the United States, his father would often send him a card with “hamburger money.” Back in the 50s, the hamburger joints were all the rage. Although his father never approved of him leaving his country, his notes and small bills from afar were the one way he expressed his love and belief in what he was doing. The money was insignificant, the message was loud and clear: “Your family is still here for you—we believe in you.”

As I went off to college my dad did the same thing for me. Notes from my dad lined with hamburger money always had the habit of arriving when I felt like I failed or was unsure of what I was doing at college. Gently, simply, and lovingly, the hamburger money would arrive. Its message: “keep going; take good care; treat yourself well.”

I can remember having no food in my pantry on a long weekend before a paycheck and there would be his envelope, like manna from heaven. He seemed to understand what a vulnerable time it was when you were trying to figure yourself out. He never said it out loud; he didn’t have to. My dad wasn’t the best of communicators—never being one to say how he felt about you. His actions were your way of knowing, and hamburger money and a note was his simple way of sending his love. It was how his dad expressed it and now it has become his tradition of encouragement.

Even though I’m now an adult and have a grownup job, life, and home of my own, my dad still sends hamburger money. It’s not very often—usually for Valentine’s Day or a birthday. I’m not sure why he still sends it—I guess loving habits die hard. His notes always end the same way “and a little hamburger money for you. Love, Dad.”

That money never feels like an ordinary $20 bill, it’s like Willie Wonka Golden Ticket money to be spent in purposeful ways. Hamburger money still has that magical quality of making me experience its message of grounding and hope: “You are loved from afar. Keep going.” And I think I will always love hearing that, whether I’m 19 or 99.

Now that we are moving into a brand new year, I felt like it was a great time to pass on the idea of hamburger money to my stepdaughter in college. Recently, I sent her a long note of the history and a $20 bill.

What I love most about traditions is that they are a reflection of who we are as a family. They define what we are purposefully creating and reminding us of how we care for each other in unique ways. Traditions are our chances to share what we hope to be more of in this lifetime, handing down beauty and memories for generations to come. And that’s hamburger money well spent.