This thread is associated with another thread I started a few days ago.
Back in the late 1980's, I was probably the highest-paid staff photographer in the state. If my wife or I wanted something, we just bought it (after some discussion, of course). Without bragging too much, I made more money than most professionals I knew--doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, engineers.
When I lost my job in 1987, I thanked myself for not going out on a limb and buying an expensive house. We'd bought a duplex, and the rent from upstairs paid our mortgage.
After my business got rolling in 1989 or so, I treated myself to a "repo" Harley. Like new, and paid 65% of what it cost the original owner when he bought it for full sticker price six months prior.
In 1992, we bought another house, and I set my price limit at $100,000. We were qualified for up to $400,, but I wasn't going to fall into that potential trap.
IOW, I'm cheap. I'm driving the 1991 Saturn that I bought for my wife on New Year's Eve in 1990. She thought she was living like a queen. I got her another car in 2003, and she had to drive the Saturn the other day. She said she felt sorry for me.
I said, "why?" With one exception, I've always owned beaters. Throw-away cars. I could buy another one for less than the cost of an oil and filter change. Makes no difference.
But now times are tough. I mean really tough. It shouldn't make any difference, since we can get by if we live like we always have: my wife buys her clothes at Goodwill or second-hand stores, and I don't buy clothes until I see holes in the ones I have. She's got a nice car, and the Saturn runs. What more can one ask for?
Well, maybe it's that "Jones" thing. You know, the neighbors have this, and you don't.
After thinking about it, though, it's not. In fact, Debbie and I were talking last night about all of this.
We're both in our 50's. We met in 1968, fell in lust, then in love, then had the time of our lives.
In the 1970's, we didn't have anything. Nothing. But we went out, we went out to eat, we went out for drinks, and we had the most fun I'll ever know. I'm so grateful to her and to God for those times.
We both long for those days. Of course, I had more hair then, and she was thinner. I don't know that all that matters.
What matters is that we're tied up in trying to do something that I don't understand or can even identify. I'm trying to bring in enough money to pay the bills, so is she, and we don't have any fun at all. Not at all. And the bills aren't that bad. The exception is medical bills, but we'll have them paid off by the end of the year.
So, I'm sitting here surveying all I own. It ain't much. But it's enough for us.
Yet I lie awake at night and worry about bills, retirement, and everything else that accompanies money.
And I ask myself: how did I go from earning serious money to making less than a third-shift McDonald's assistant manager? (If even that much).
And how did money get to be such a constant drain on my thoughts?
I don't think that I'm alone. Others please chime in.