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ME Musings
HUMOR
How I Learned
To Stop Worrying . . .
By Heather Bell
. . . and love gardening.
SHHHH! Don’t tell anyone, but we put
the March/April issue of Journal of
Indexes together in January. It’s just
how the publication cycle works. And putting
the publication together at the start of
2013 really brings home the topic of “New
Perspectives.” I mean, what is the start of
a brand-new year if not a chance to take
stock of what has come before and to tweak
your approach for what lies ahead?
I don’t know about you, but since late
2008—what with the financial collapse and
the growing political polarization in this
country—I’ve had it in the back of my mind
that I should invest in a bunker instead
of my 401(k). I mostly gravitate that way
anyway—when there’s a snowstorm coming,
I’m right in there with the rest of the
nutsos, desperately buying up bread and
milk, even though I don’t consume much
of either item. But that 24 hours when
I might be snowbound COULD be the
24-hour period in which I am struck by an
unconquerable desire for a double-decker
sandwich and a big frosty glass of milk.
(Note: Head out to the grocery store
early if you don’t want to be stuck with
the raisin bread—it does NOT go well with
peanut butter and jelly.)
This kind of neurotic response to
unpleasant global events runs in my family.
Not long after the market tanked,
I had to talk my 60-something mother
out of putting her entire retirement savings
into physical silver—and explain
that her jewelry collection didn’t qualify.
However, when things took a downward
turn, I elected not to take up political
extremism, load up on ammo or move
to Canada. Instead, I bought a Costco
membership and started a garden.
The former has led to an impressive
stockpile of toilet paper, paper towels, plastic
wrap and frozen broccoli florets (if you
have a good recipe involving them, please
email me as soon as possible). My friends
started talking about a Hoarders-style intervention
this past autumn when they realized
I had enough rolls of toilet tissue to
last me to the next Olympics. They don’t
hesitate to stop by for a few rolls when they
run out, however, so who’s the crazy one?
The garden I view as an investment.
OK, right now I probably spend about $20
for every luscious heirloom tomato I harvest,
but one day—hopefully before I’m
ready for retirement—I will have a costeffective
supply of organic vegetables for
my post-crisis Cobb salad.
So after all that warehouse shopping and
a ton of potting, I awoke on this past New
Year’s Day to the realization that, contrary
to my radical fears and the vehement beliefs
of market pundits, society might just be
safe and sound for a while. And here I sit
with enough Saran Wrap for the world’s
leftovers. There’s a lesson here somewhere.
No, I’m not giving up my Costco membership,
even if I’ll probably never have to
buy TP again. Nor am I abandoning my
gardening efforts—it appeals to my crunchy
granola side. But I’m not going to let irrational
fears of the U.S. turning into Greece—or
Somalia, God forbid—affect how I manage
my port folio. I’m not going to allocate an outsized
portion of my investments to gold. I’m
not going to put all my money into emerging
markets because the U.S. and its fellow
developed markets have a bit too much debt.
And I’m certainly not burying an Airstream
trailer in the backyard as an ad hoc bomb
shelter, even if Costco has them on sale.
I am, however, going to continue to
invest responsibly and not spend my ducats
on frivolous things. Repeat after me:
The odds are good that it’s gonna be OK—
maybe not great or even pretty cool, but
definitely, at a minimum, “OK.”
64
March / April 2013