Barney and the Gatekeepers
How My Retired Father Made It Big in the Real Estate Business
My father, a pharmacist by profession, retired to Florida at the age of 55. His retirement lasted three weeks. After a lifetime’s worth of waking up each morning with a purpose, now he had none. Golf didn’t count. Nor did watering his lawn or reading People Magazine. In fact, nothing counted.
Without having something to do that had meaning for him, my father was very much lost at sea. And so, he decided, one fine air-conditioned day, to begin importing exotic foreign cars. The business model was a simple one. Buy low. Sell high.
As his only son, I was impressed. Mercedes were not only way cooler than nose drops, there was a much bigger profit margin. Plus, who knows, it was always possible that one of them might trickle down to me one day.
My dad’s foreign car venture lasted six months.
Now 56 and, again, unemployed, he decided to take a left turn and open an art gallery with my mother — a move that shocked the entire family. It wasn’t fine art they were selling, mind you. It was decorative art — the kind that newly retired people were in search of to match their living room couch. Like maybe something in green.
