Chairman of the Federal Reserve System, Alan Greenspan's, recent retirement propelled me to the Internet to learn what his job had entailed. Wow! Imagine being responsible for the health of the United States' economy. I can barely remember to enter a check in the check register.

    Mr. Greenspan would have been pleased the day my younger sister and I (accompanied by our mother) walked into the First Federal Savings and Loan on Excelsior Boulevard. We had socked away enough money to open our own savings accounts. About 9 and 10 years old at the time, we also applied for Social Security cards--a totally abstract concept to us, I'm sure. Mom told us we would need this card if we ever hoped to have a job. Another vague notion--back then, the only people we knew with jobs were the dads in our neighborhood and the nuns who taught school.

    The bank president, a friend of our parents, shook our hands and thanked us for our business. He complimented us on the size of our deposits (14 dollars each, I believe) and instructed us to continue saving so we could go to college. I'm pretty sure I had my sights on a more immediate goal, though; something tangible, like a bigger bicycle.

    It is doubtful I added great sums of money to that savings account. I have always preferred withdrawals over deposits--unlike my brother, the family money cultivator. He couldn't have been more than five when Mom received a call from the neighbor two houses away. The woman said my younger brother was digging under the shrubs along her back fence. It wasn't the first time she had seen him do this and while it didn't bother her, she thought my mother should know. It turned out my brother had planted an old coffee can in the dirt--his variation of the savings account theme-and whenever he had any money, he dug up the can and added to his crop. My parents laughed about it but they should have asked the little guy to explain his money growing philosophy to all of us, right then and there.

    Dad never spoke about finances; he never sat any of us down and said, "Listen up, kiddo--here's the deal about the almighty dollar." And my mother (in spite of the aforementioned savings account introduction) talked about money like it was a joke. I remember her saying many times, as she handed a check to a clerk at the corner grocery store, "Better get this to the bank in a hurry or you'll have to play basketball with it." She and the person behind the counter would have a good chuckle because, of course, Mom was kidding. After my parents divorce, Mom paid bills at the kitchen table, often saying with a giggle, "I should just write these in red ink." I took her comments as facetious, but there may have been a little truth in the red ink wisecrack.

    Like Mom, I've treated the subject of my own money lightly, so it baffles me that someone could be responsible for an entire country's employment levels, prices and inflation, like Alan Greenspan was. Stepping down from that huge responsibility will certainly leave him with too much time on his hands and I worry retirement could be a letdown. Perhaps he'll want to fill his empty days with volunteer work-like teaching me how to balance my checkbook. I wonder if he's up to the challenge.