Things Own Us

So Thursday was busy. I went to an all afternoon meeting at the U, where I was nicely humbled by realizing I was by far the poorest member of the committee.  I truly messed up -- the best way, by far, to be wealthy, is to be born to a very rich family.  From there, I went home and jumped into Dr. Dave's car, where, along with his retired county attorney friend Ron and his wife, we went to an event at the Miami Book Fair.

We had a cocktail reception for Jefffrey Toobin at the Miami Dade College Culinary School restaurant -- a place I definitely plan to return to.  After 4 glasses of a lovely malbec, we walked to the lecture, which is on Toobin's new book about Patty Hearst, and how that entire affair had a profound effect on the US political situation for years to come.  After a spirited drive home, where Ron shared with me which plaintiffs' lawyers he found to be the biggest jerks, over his 40 year career (we share one in common -- a guy I'll call Hector, since that's his name), I fetched Wifey, and we made a late night visit to a funeral vigil.

My sister of another mister Mirta's brother Felix died, at 53.  His family gathered around, to spend the final evening, before his burial.  It was, of course, extremely sad.

I picked up a bad bug, and knew it would develop, and sure enough, four days later, I'm hopefully on the recovery side of a nasty cold. I spent Saturday and Sunday drinking copious amounts of tea and watching good, at least, football. I think I'll stay away from the office today, lest I give everyone there an unwanted gift of rhinovirus for Thanksgiving...

Anyway...I read on FaceBook that our neighbor, Mark, was freaking out.  He and his wife built a custom cabin in the mountains of North Carolina, and apparently the place is under imminent threat of destruction, due to the wildfires there.  He asked for prayers.  Well, I only speak to the Big Man about matters involving human life and health, so he didn't get no prayers from me, but I wished him luck, and reminded him that Andrew taught us that all stuff, even custom built, Restoration Hardware-decorated vacation homes, are so much crap, and as long as people are fine, don't amount to a hill of beans... I hope I didn't offend him.

My mentor Ed Perse inadvertently effected my thoughts about this. He had a gorgeous vacation house in Northern Wisconsin, which his son Mike and I visited, the first and only time I went snowmobiling.  Later, we took the kids -- first D1 when she was just a year old, and later, both Ds, and Mike's baby girl Amanda.  But then the house was stuck by lightning, and burned to the ground.  And I remember vividly the hassles of his rebuilding the thing, especially from half a country away.  He ended up selling the place a few years before he died.

Later, my boss Ed taught me the lesson again -- with his big ticket yacht and airplanes.  He LOVED owning them -- he was world class fisherman, and there was nothing as gratifying to Ed as telling some defense lawyer who asked when his flight was leaving "When I call my pilot to tell him."  But there, too -- hours were spent on the phone with captains and pilots, and Detroit Diesel, and FBOs (fixed base operators -- where rich guys park and service their planes).

I used to shudder, internally, as I realized that as much money as I would ever acquire, I would RENT stuff rather than own...

Regarding houses: I've developed, through observation, a fear of contractors.  My good friend in Broward bought a knock down -- and decided to build her dream downsized, empty nest home.  She told me it would take a year.  That was 2 and a half years ago.  She finally moved in recently -- and now the host of problems stemming from being her own owner/builder and using some cut rate subcontractors is rearing its head.

I was thrilled when Wifey and I closed on the condo we owned in Pembroke Pines.  And as soon as my ancient mother in law departs our local condo, either to go to a nursing home or directly to the sylvan field next to the Palmetto Expressway, I plan to immediately sell.

In fact, when Wifey finally wins our little ongoing battle about selling Villa Wifey, which she of course will, I might well opt to rent.

The idea of a coming hurricane where I'm a renter appeals to me immensely.  Make sure the Ds are fine, pack the dogs in the SUV, and head out of town until the thing passes -- saying the the owner of the property, essentially, "man -- sucks to be you."

On the other hand, maybe we WILL stay, and undergo a lot of the work that our nearly 20 year old house needs.  The house has "great bones," as an engineer who inspected it told me, but sure needs painting, and a lot of cosmetic touch ups...

So I wish Mark well, with his NC property. The house sits a little way down the mountain, and on the top of said mountain an Evangelical owner installed three enormous crosses, which are brightly lit at night. Maybe they'll offer protection to the whole area -- even those who don't believe in that new messiah...

As for me -- well, I want to own less and less (except, of course, for tax free munis and dividend paying stocks). Those will end up in the Ds possession, where they can make their own calls about what to own.