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Her chief goal in life, she often said, was to die without being a financial burden to her children — a lesson she learned from her own mother. With a small inheritance from Granny, Mom invested smartly, poured over the pages of Barron’s. She knew the phone numbers of her stockbroker and the credit union manager by heart. She splurged on trips to Vegas, careful to play only with a pre-determined amount and, once she hit a streak, to set aside her initial investment; she nearly always came back from the quarter slots with enough in her pocket to cover the full cost of her trip.
And though she never earned more than today’s equivalent of about $40,000 per year, Mom died with enough money in her accounts to move her own children well on their way to financial security.
Of course, we already were on the right path. To a one, we save part of every bit of money that comes our way. We’re all work-obsessed. We know the difference between marketing and true value, and we always, always compare prices — something that drives my husband mad.
Though I don’t always pay off my credit card balance every month, I’ve stashed away more than enough to wipe them clean on any day of the week. For years I lived in a series of tiny apartments to save enough money for my first condo. Living within my means has made it possible for me to splurge on my addiction for traveling. Last stop: the Old Silk Road in Uzbekistan.
Mom would have understood. After all, that’s what the piggy bank is for. Just as long as the bills are paid first.
Jane Wooldridge is The Miami Herald’s executive business editor. This article includes comments from the Public Insight Network, an online community of people who have agreed to share their opinions with The Miami Herald. Sign up at MiamiHerald.com/Insight.
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