What I’m about to tell you is one of those classic family stories—the kind that makes you laugh and cringe all at once—and now that most of my family is gone, it’s somehow been forgotten by the remaining members except for my sister and me. It all centers on my maternal grandparents, specifically my grandfather, Pawpaw (technically my mom’s stepfather, but he was the only grandfather I ever really knew).
My grandparents, who lived across Texas, Missouri and Kansas over the years, were the definition of super frugal people. And Pawpaw was the captain of that frugal ship. Because we saw them so rarely, mainly during a few childhood trips out there or when they visited us in Florida (once when I was small and again around my sister’s wedding when I was in 7th or 8th grade), those visits were unforgettable.
Any suggestion of going out to eat made my grandmother genuinely shudder. She’d immediately shut down the idea, claiming Pawpaw wouldn’t like it and we would, naturally, be having dinner at home. Dinner usually involved something pulled from their garden, paired with meatloaf, spaghetti or whatever cut of meat they managed to snag on sale, either baked or fried. Suggestions for tacos, Chinese food, Whataburger or even Kentucky Fried Chicken were swatted away instantly, but nothing caused a softer, yet firmer, rejection than the word “pizza”.
My grandparents, who lived across Texas, Missouri and Kansas over the years, were the definition of super frugal people. And Pawpaw was the captain of that frugal ship. Because we saw them so rarely, mainly during a few childhood trips out there or when they visited us in Florida (once when I was small and again around my sister’s wedding when I was in 7th or 8th grade), those visits were unforgettable.
Any suggestion of going out to eat made my grandmother genuinely shudder. She’d immediately shut down the idea, claiming Pawpaw wouldn’t like it and we would, naturally, be having dinner at home. Dinner usually involved something pulled from their garden, paired with meatloaf, spaghetti or whatever cut of meat they managed to snag on sale, either baked or fried. Suggestions for tacos, Chinese food, Whataburger or even Kentucky Fried Chicken were swatted away instantly, but nothing caused a softer, yet firmer, rejection than the word “pizza”.
And this is where the real story begins.
The year was sometime in the 1950s. Pawpaw, fresh out of the Air Force, was approached by two friends. These guys were brothers—Frank and Dan. They needed some startup capital and asked Pawpaw to invest in their new business idea: a restaurant that served pizza.
“What else?” Pawpaw asked.
“Just pizza,” they replied.
My grandpa’s response was a masterpiece of stubborn, misguided certainty. He argued that people wouldn't waste their money eating out when they could just eat cheaper at home. According to the way my mom—and later my aunt—told the tale, Pawpaw actually made fun of their idea. “Your Pawpaw, made fun of their idea and said no one will come to a restaurant that only serves one type of food and they should just open a diner or an ice cream shop somewhere if they want to waste their money on something,” my aunt confirmed.
The investment they needed wasn’t some astronomical sum by today’s standards, but in that era, $600 was around today’s $6,000, maybe a touch more. Pawpaw refused.
Instead of Pawpaw’s money, Frank and Dan convinced their own mother to loan them the funds. And thus, a successful business was born in Wichita. By the time I came along, that business was national and by the 1980s, practically every single town in the US had at least one: Pizza Hut.
Yes, my friends, my grandfather not only knew the original owners of the chain that became synonymous with family nights out, he insulted the very idea. And thus the bitterness connected with his stubbornness consumed him for the rest of his life.
I experienced that bitterness firsthand. I remember only two times in my life getting spanked by my grandfather. Once was for roughhousing with my cousin and making him cry. The second, far more memorable time, was when I adamantly proclaimed I hated my Grandma’s cooking and proclaimed that I wanted to go to Pizza Hut “like we did back home”. My sister and I instantly learned that Pizza Hut was strictly forbidden territory when the grandparents were around. It was a stark contrast to my other grandma, my dad’s mom would order Dominos to be delivered to her house during some of the weekends we would visit her during my middle school years.
But the absolute funniest part of this whole generational saga unfolded toward the end of Grandma’s life. One night, Pawpaw actually gave Grandma a break from cooking and took her, my mom, my sister and my nephew out to eat. Where did they go? Kentucky Fried Chicken. And what did they order? “The special,” which, bless Texas’s heart, was a country fried steak dinner. Little by little during that visit to KFC, he was the only one enjoying the special while the others changed their order to original recipe chicken. I assume, of course, that no one dared mention the simple, cruel fact that KFC, Taco Bell and Pizza Hut were all owned by the exact same massive company. Knowing my grandparents, I can only conclude that the motto “Ignorance is bliss” was definitely at play.
It’s a wild story to look back on—a $600 decision that changed not only my family’s potential financial history but cemented a lifelong obsession with regret fueled by pizza.
I’d love to hear if your family has a similar legendary mistake! Drop a comment below and share your own "what if" moment or family lore. If you enjoyed this trip down memory lane and found a bit of perspective (or just a laugh) in my Pawpaw's massive business blunder, feel free to show some love and help keep these stories—and cheap pizza—coming. Every little bit helps me bring more content like this to life!
The year was sometime in the 1950s. Pawpaw, fresh out of the Air Force, was approached by two friends. These guys were brothers—Frank and Dan. They needed some startup capital and asked Pawpaw to invest in their new business idea: a restaurant that served pizza.
“What else?” Pawpaw asked.
“Just pizza,” they replied.
My grandpa’s response was a masterpiece of stubborn, misguided certainty. He argued that people wouldn't waste their money eating out when they could just eat cheaper at home. According to the way my mom—and later my aunt—told the tale, Pawpaw actually made fun of their idea. “Your Pawpaw, made fun of their idea and said no one will come to a restaurant that only serves one type of food and they should just open a diner or an ice cream shop somewhere if they want to waste their money on something,” my aunt confirmed.
The investment they needed wasn’t some astronomical sum by today’s standards, but in that era, $600 was around today’s $6,000, maybe a touch more. Pawpaw refused.
Instead of Pawpaw’s money, Frank and Dan convinced their own mother to loan them the funds. And thus, a successful business was born in Wichita. By the time I came along, that business was national and by the 1980s, practically every single town in the US had at least one: Pizza Hut.
Yes, my friends, my grandfather not only knew the original owners of the chain that became synonymous with family nights out, he insulted the very idea. And thus the bitterness connected with his stubbornness consumed him for the rest of his life.
I experienced that bitterness firsthand. I remember only two times in my life getting spanked by my grandfather. Once was for roughhousing with my cousin and making him cry. The second, far more memorable time, was when I adamantly proclaimed I hated my Grandma’s cooking and proclaimed that I wanted to go to Pizza Hut “like we did back home”. My sister and I instantly learned that Pizza Hut was strictly forbidden territory when the grandparents were around. It was a stark contrast to my other grandma, my dad’s mom would order Dominos to be delivered to her house during some of the weekends we would visit her during my middle school years.
But the absolute funniest part of this whole generational saga unfolded toward the end of Grandma’s life. One night, Pawpaw actually gave Grandma a break from cooking and took her, my mom, my sister and my nephew out to eat. Where did they go? Kentucky Fried Chicken. And what did they order? “The special,” which, bless Texas’s heart, was a country fried steak dinner. Little by little during that visit to KFC, he was the only one enjoying the special while the others changed their order to original recipe chicken. I assume, of course, that no one dared mention the simple, cruel fact that KFC, Taco Bell and Pizza Hut were all owned by the exact same massive company. Knowing my grandparents, I can only conclude that the motto “Ignorance is bliss” was definitely at play.
It’s a wild story to look back on—a $600 decision that changed not only my family’s potential financial history but cemented a lifelong obsession with regret fueled by pizza.
I’d love to hear if your family has a similar legendary mistake! Drop a comment below and share your own "what if" moment or family lore. If you enjoyed this trip down memory lane and found a bit of perspective (or just a laugh) in my Pawpaw's massive business blunder, feel free to show some love and help keep these stories—and cheap pizza—coming. Every little bit helps me bring more content like this to life!
