I used to be real tight wad (Katie rolls her eyes). My answer to all economic questions was "spend less."
Katie's "earn more" response was foreign and at first struck me as born of questionable morality. So I set about spending less. Less and less and less. Ever less. This made it ever more difficult to earn more. I didn't understand investment. I didn't understand value. I didn't understand abundance.
Katie and I collided magnificently. We were like The Bonfire of the Vanities version of "Tastes great!" "Less Filling!" I demanded less spending. She demanded more earning.
Eventually I came around to her side (Katie rolls her eyes). In some respects, I saw her "earn more" and raised it a "spend more."
My children profoundly changed my spending philosophy. I started thinking things like, We don't get a mulligan on first grade. (Katie says, "You just started thinking that, or did someone explain it to you?") And immediately my sense of an appropriate housing expense tripled.
At times we have been faced with such trade offs as: dance lessons or retirement savings? To my surprise, the decision was easy. I can work until I'm 80 if that's what it takes to get these kids to their potential and to have experiences with them.
I recognize that the slope is slippery. But at the same time, I just keep thinking about the meaning of "rich." I don't want to be rich so much as I want to live richly. Money is just a worthless piece of paper unless you buy something with it. Unless you spend it, money will not help you live richly. Money must be exchanged for value. Value is the thing, not money.
So I believe not only in earning more but in spending more. How's that for moral depravity?
But you must spend on the right things. Buy value. Beware diminishing returns. Invest heavily in human capital first. Despise waste.
I will admit that for me the line between ambition and greed, investment and indulgence, is often blurry. My earlier answer to this dilemma was to shun ambition so as to never be faced with such moral ambiguities. Alas, this is its own form of immorality.
I want nothing like I want my children to be happy and productive. This desire has made clear that there is no moral triumph on the sideline.
For me, there is this strange truth: My children need me to make myself successful. How shall they know the way, lest I should show them?
Katie's "earn more" response was foreign and at first struck me as born of questionable morality. So I set about spending less. Less and less and less. Ever less. This made it ever more difficult to earn more. I didn't understand investment. I didn't understand value. I didn't understand abundance.
Katie and I collided magnificently. We were like The Bonfire of the Vanities version of "Tastes great!" "Less Filling!" I demanded less spending. She demanded more earning.
Eventually I came around to her side (Katie rolls her eyes). In some respects, I saw her "earn more" and raised it a "spend more."
My children profoundly changed my spending philosophy. I started thinking things like, We don't get a mulligan on first grade. (Katie says, "You just started thinking that, or did someone explain it to you?") And immediately my sense of an appropriate housing expense tripled.
At times we have been faced with such trade offs as: dance lessons or retirement savings? To my surprise, the decision was easy. I can work until I'm 80 if that's what it takes to get these kids to their potential and to have experiences with them.
I recognize that the slope is slippery. But at the same time, I just keep thinking about the meaning of "rich." I don't want to be rich so much as I want to live richly. Money is just a worthless piece of paper unless you buy something with it. Unless you spend it, money will not help you live richly. Money must be exchanged for value. Value is the thing, not money.
So I believe not only in earning more but in spending more. How's that for moral depravity?
But you must spend on the right things. Buy value. Beware diminishing returns. Invest heavily in human capital first. Despise waste.
I will admit that for me the line between ambition and greed, investment and indulgence, is often blurry. My earlier answer to this dilemma was to shun ambition so as to never be faced with such moral ambiguities. Alas, this is its own form of immorality.
I want nothing like I want my children to be happy and productive. This desire has made clear that there is no moral triumph on the sideline.
For me, there is this strange truth: My children need me to make myself successful. How shall they know the way, lest I should show them?
