The rather sad truth is that I cannot think about money and how to earn it in a concentrated way for more than three minutes at a time. I am entirely ignorant about the stock market, cannot define a mutual fund, and am unable to force my eyes through a financial document of more than a single page no matter how I press my temples or squint in false seriousness.
Joseph Epstein, Where Were We? Page 11
In matters of finance, essayist Joseph Epstein and I are first cousins.
Like Epstein, I find the stock market a great mystery, I am an ignoramus regarding my state and federal taxes, and I have no clue as to the meaning of mutual fund. When I hear the word “subprime”, I think of a less than desirable steak. Liquidity references the state of my thirst versus the amount of available wine, and any mention of amortization simply brings on a headache.
Joseph Epstein, Where Were We? Page 11
In matters of finance, essayist Joseph Epstein and I are first cousins.
Like Epstein, I find the stock market a great mystery, I am an ignoramus regarding my state and federal taxes, and I have no clue as to the meaning of mutual fund. When I hear the word “subprime”, I think of a less than desirable steak. Liquidity references the state of my thirst versus the amount of available wine, and any mention of amortization simply brings on a headache.
I know many people who dive into money matters as easily as I dive into my Webster’s New World Thesaurus. All of my four children work hard and handle their finances much more wisely than my wife or I ever did, illustrating thereby the positive power of the negative example. One of my in-laws is a whiz with real estate and banking.
At weddings, bar mitzvahs, Christmas parties, and even funerals, I have listened to some of the attendees discuss portfolios, retirement accounts, interest rates, investments, and tax shelters. Inevitably, and within just a few minutes, a curtain descends inside my brain. I hear their words, but my thoughts drift away. While they discussing the latest construction project in Haw Creek, I am wondering whether the public library carries a copy of James Webb’s A Sense of Honor. While they kick around various adventures with their accountants, my attention drifts to the hors d’oeuvres bar. While they grow excited about a change in the tax laws, I am rooting through my mind for that quotation from Helprin’s A Soldier of the Great War.
Such ignorance is not in my case fatal, but it is unfortunate. To reach the precipice of old age with little money does bother me, though not to the extent some might think. (Here I am reminded of some of Hemingway’s short stories where one character will urge another “not to think about it.” And there, by the way, is a large part of the problem: the topic is finance, and right away I am drifting back to literature.)
Now, I like money as much as the next man, I’m just incapable of taking much interest in how to accumulate it. Even in my salad days, when I was teaching, I was unable to save much of what I earned. I was sometimes frivolous, sometimes generous, and sometimes just hit the usual bumps we all hit: car troubles, an unexpected tax, an unforeseen obligation. Like the night tide, the money came in and went out, came in and went out, but morning always brought a clean empty beach.
This coin does have a bright side. (Hey, we’re talking money. I might as well throw in a monetary metaphor.) When you’ve lived some hardscrabble years, when for a decade, or two, or three, you are fighting debt and are broke most of the time, you learn to make do with what you have and not to covet what you can’t have. Right now, I have little money but lots of time, which means I can read and write, and still provide myself with life’s necessities. (This year those necessities include paying for my dentist and his family to enjoy a luxury vacation.) The trick here is to want little, avoid self-pity, and enjoy the simple pleasures each day offers.
Thoreau had Walden Pond. I have the public library, a coffee shop, and my apartment.
A final note for my children, former students, and young people in general: Unless you have a cavalier soul, or unless you intend to play Blanche DuBois, who “always depended on the kindness of strangers” (I wouldn’t advise this route), start now and look for ways to save or invest money. Do as I say, not as I did.
As F. Scott Fitzgerald once said…
But there I go again.
At weddings, bar mitzvahs, Christmas parties, and even funerals, I have listened to some of the attendees discuss portfolios, retirement accounts, interest rates, investments, and tax shelters. Inevitably, and within just a few minutes, a curtain descends inside my brain. I hear their words, but my thoughts drift away. While they discussing the latest construction project in Haw Creek, I am wondering whether the public library carries a copy of James Webb’s A Sense of Honor. While they kick around various adventures with their accountants, my attention drifts to the hors d’oeuvres bar. While they grow excited about a change in the tax laws, I am rooting through my mind for that quotation from Helprin’s A Soldier of the Great War.
Such ignorance is not in my case fatal, but it is unfortunate. To reach the precipice of old age with little money does bother me, though not to the extent some might think. (Here I am reminded of some of Hemingway’s short stories where one character will urge another “not to think about it.” And there, by the way, is a large part of the problem: the topic is finance, and right away I am drifting back to literature.)
Now, I like money as much as the next man, I’m just incapable of taking much interest in how to accumulate it. Even in my salad days, when I was teaching, I was unable to save much of what I earned. I was sometimes frivolous, sometimes generous, and sometimes just hit the usual bumps we all hit: car troubles, an unexpected tax, an unforeseen obligation. Like the night tide, the money came in and went out, came in and went out, but morning always brought a clean empty beach.
This coin does have a bright side. (Hey, we’re talking money. I might as well throw in a monetary metaphor.) When you’ve lived some hardscrabble years, when for a decade, or two, or three, you are fighting debt and are broke most of the time, you learn to make do with what you have and not to covet what you can’t have. Right now, I have little money but lots of time, which means I can read and write, and still provide myself with life’s necessities. (This year those necessities include paying for my dentist and his family to enjoy a luxury vacation.) The trick here is to want little, avoid self-pity, and enjoy the simple pleasures each day offers.
Thoreau had Walden Pond. I have the public library, a coffee shop, and my apartment.
A final note for my children, former students, and young people in general: Unless you have a cavalier soul, or unless you intend to play Blanche DuBois, who “always depended on the kindness of strangers” (I wouldn’t advise this route), start now and look for ways to save or invest money. Do as I say, not as I did.
As F. Scott Fitzgerald once said…
But there I go again.