El and Bill
New member
As most of you know, I enjoy writing essays. This activity forces me to focus, analyze, critically assess, and ultimately to conclude - and maybe find a little humor to temper the serious. For the past year I've had trouble writing essays about a favorite subject of mine - investing. Mostly, it's because I've had a sinking feeling.
Now, when you live on a boat for months at a time, that is NOT a good feeling. Now, I must admit I don't know what it is like to really sink on a boat (oh, I've flipped rafts, kayaks, canoes -- but I was running white water and knew the risk so when flipping I merely went 'overboard' knowing I could easily swim ashore with life jacket on and climb back aboard). With this sinking feeling about the economy I don't have a life jacket, can't see the shore, and the waves downstream look huge and I'm on a boat. Sure don't want to jump overboard.
Many of you know that I seldom watch tv. Why, I'm from another planet and don't have a clue when friends talk about the 'stars' or latest 'shows.' My general habit, when ashore, is not to turn on the tv until evening news and then seldom watch long. I don't read any newspapers (except sometimes headlines and editorials on line), and don't read any news magazines (except the Economist, two weeks late forwarded from England). But, since being aware of the water level rising around me I've taken to watching (or listening) to the morning news, and, under the excuse of checking for upcoming weather hazards, even tune in at noon when I can. Why? I honestly have to admit it isn't the atmospheric storms - it's the economic hurricanes I fear. Near dawn I listen to know what has happened in European and Asian markets overnight, or how the Dow futures are doing. This morning I heard the futures market was 'frozen' due to huge declines. At noon, I check on the Dow.
Is there something I can do, I ask myself? Oh, of course I can't alter the markets, but is there a life jacket around here? How far IS IT to shore? When I was younger, I was seldom concerned about economic storms. Why, we quit our jobs in '86 (and I knew about the huge economic problem then), so that should say something about no fear when there's 'eternity' stretching out ahead to weather the storm.
So, perhaps my fear of sinking has more to do with age -- I don't have thirty more years to weather this one. And this one looks far bigger, and different, from any I've lived through - even Greenspan said the same is true for him, yesterday.
Now we've been frugal and lived simply. When you hike 2,000 miles with your food (renewed weekly), shelter and clothing on your back you know how little we really need. We'll survive the sinking (if it happens), perhaps gripping on a bit of flotsam. But what about family, friends, our country, our world ...
If we all come out of the storm (and most always have, through history), what will the new world look like? What kind of boat will we have, how long until the seas calm, how far from refueling stations or a safe cove?
Ah, the sunset is marvelous out the window. The migrating geese are chatting about tonight's flight, yellow leaves are drifting past the window and the wind ruffles fingers through the lake. A flicker is calling and there's a racoon working the shore of the lake. Sorry, must leave - I'm being called back to the real world.
Now, when you live on a boat for months at a time, that is NOT a good feeling. Now, I must admit I don't know what it is like to really sink on a boat (oh, I've flipped rafts, kayaks, canoes -- but I was running white water and knew the risk so when flipping I merely went 'overboard' knowing I could easily swim ashore with life jacket on and climb back aboard). With this sinking feeling about the economy I don't have a life jacket, can't see the shore, and the waves downstream look huge and I'm on a boat. Sure don't want to jump overboard.
Many of you know that I seldom watch tv. Why, I'm from another planet and don't have a clue when friends talk about the 'stars' or latest 'shows.' My general habit, when ashore, is not to turn on the tv until evening news and then seldom watch long. I don't read any newspapers (except sometimes headlines and editorials on line), and don't read any news magazines (except the Economist, two weeks late forwarded from England). But, since being aware of the water level rising around me I've taken to watching (or listening) to the morning news, and, under the excuse of checking for upcoming weather hazards, even tune in at noon when I can. Why? I honestly have to admit it isn't the atmospheric storms - it's the economic hurricanes I fear. Near dawn I listen to know what has happened in European and Asian markets overnight, or how the Dow futures are doing. This morning I heard the futures market was 'frozen' due to huge declines. At noon, I check on the Dow.
Is there something I can do, I ask myself? Oh, of course I can't alter the markets, but is there a life jacket around here? How far IS IT to shore? When I was younger, I was seldom concerned about economic storms. Why, we quit our jobs in '86 (and I knew about the huge economic problem then), so that should say something about no fear when there's 'eternity' stretching out ahead to weather the storm.
So, perhaps my fear of sinking has more to do with age -- I don't have thirty more years to weather this one. And this one looks far bigger, and different, from any I've lived through - even Greenspan said the same is true for him, yesterday.
Now we've been frugal and lived simply. When you hike 2,000 miles with your food (renewed weekly), shelter and clothing on your back you know how little we really need. We'll survive the sinking (if it happens), perhaps gripping on a bit of flotsam. But what about family, friends, our country, our world ...
If we all come out of the storm (and most always have, through history), what will the new world look like? What kind of boat will we have, how long until the seas calm, how far from refueling stations or a safe cove?
Ah, the sunset is marvelous out the window. The migrating geese are chatting about tonight's flight, yellow leaves are drifting past the window and the wind ruffles fingers through the lake. A flicker is calling and there's a racoon working the shore of the lake. Sorry, must leave - I'm being called back to the real world.