Sorry for yet another long post.
I have lived a very charmed life. My parents are in their 70's and are still alive, as are all of my brothers. Very few people who are or were close to me have died. Due to this, death is still very foreign to my experience, and any deaths that have occurred have left a profound impact on me.
In other posts, I've alluded to losing my girlfriend of many years when talking about my retail therapy binge. A recent thread in the forums (actually, I think the word is "fora," but no one uses it, so I won't either) got me to thinking about my outlook when it comes to money, which brought me to write this post.
My father came from a very large family. He had five brothers and two sisters. Most of them are still alive and in their 70's and 80's. When I was about eleven, my father's father (my paternal grandfather) passed away. The family all gathered at his small house and had the near-reunion that always accompanies the death of a family patriarch or matriarch.
With that many children in their 30's and 40's, and all of their children (my cousins), you can imagine the scores of people in my grandparents' house. I would say the house was about 1000 square feet, and two bedrooms with only one bathroom and one common area plus a kitchen. All of us kids were basically left to our own devices. The older teens wandered off to the local hangouts - there was a park nearby where they could go sit on the play ground equipment and smoke cigarettes unbeknownst to the adults back at the house - while us younger kids pretty much just hung around the house and probably made pests of ourselves until we were given something to occupy our time.
My cousin Roger and I were eventually dispatched to my grandfather's bedroom. We were given the task of clearing out his dresser. Roger was about a year younger than I was, and his father and mine were the two sons who had made decent livings for themselves. My father's family was not rich by any means, my grandfather being a retired police officer from the 1950's when pensions were small but sufficient; however, my father had put himself through university to get a BS and eventually an MBA, and my Roger's father had opened his own successful business. The other aunts and uncles, though, were basically living paycheck-to-paycheck like most Americans still are doing today.
While clearing out the drawers, Roger and I came across my grandfather's old service revolver. We were southern boys, so we knew about guns and merely set it safely aside with the other items we were cataloging. We also came across a "blackjack." I asked my father about it when we told him about the revolver (which my father put out of the reach of our younger cousins). A blackjack is a leather device that looks much like a very small dumbbell, and has a small weight made of lead - maybe a fishing lure weight - at either end of the "dumbbell." The wielder holds one piece of leather-covered lead, and swings the blackjack as a small club. The leather and the weight of the lead increasing the force of the subsequent impact. A blackjack is a close cousin of "brass knuckles." My father explained that my grandfather had disarmed the blackjack wielder after being struck by it, and had kept the blackjack as a souvenir. I can tell you no more of the fate of the blackjack wielder.
Roger and I continued to go through my grandfather's things. We came upon a pencil cup full of pens of various types. My cousin ran his fingers across the top of the pencils and pens, and remarked, "Wow! There are enough pens here that all of the grandkids can have one." Now, I immediately realized that Roger was thinking, "What can I get out of Grandpa's death?"
This statement had a very profound effect on me. I was disgusted with Roger. I must admit that to this day, I cannot look at Roger - we're both in our 50's now - without remembering this statement. My grandfather had died, and Roger was wondering "What's in it for me?"
About 15 years later, my maternal grandmother passed away. Although my mother's family was much smaller than my father's extended family, we still had the typical near-reunion gathering.
We dutifully gathered at my grandmother's house - not much larger than my paternal grandparents' house - and talked about my grandmother's life and death. My mother and her three sisters were going through my grandmother's things and I was told "to take something for myself." I demurred, but my mother insisted I take something with me. One of my brothers had taken the color TV, and another of my brothers had taken my grandmother's Buick.
I remembered as a kid, we would sit around listening and basically being bored as the older folks talked, and I would mostly stare at a "century clock" - also called an anniversary clock - that my grandparents had on their mantle. I was always fascinated with that clock and the small weights at the bottom that would spin one direction and then the other apparently forever. This clock was the one item I always equated with my grandparents' house.
So, of course, that's what I asked for. My mother's younger sister immediately chimed in very vehemently, "No! That's mine! I have already packed it away." Now, I had only spoken up because I had been forced to do so, and I had chosen that item because it was what most reminded me of my grandmother. Immediately upon my aunt's tone and statement, I saw images of my cousin Roger and his coveted pencil cup. Instead of the anniversary clock, I asked if I could have the "rag rugs" that my grandmother had made herself.
Rag rugs are made by taking old scraps of material and making them into long, thin tubes. The tubes are then braided, and lastly the braids are sewn in a spiral fashion to make oval throw rugs. After the clock, these rugs, hand-made by my grandmother, most reminded me of my grandmother, so that's what I asked for instead of the clock. Even with a lot more cajoling, I took only the three rag rugs. When asked, I said, "These are what remind me of Grandma, so these are what I want."
I have a few other stories and memories, but these two tidbits illustrate why I've never put much value on things or money. I really don't need much, and I never saw the reason to accumulate wealth. I was born smart and I have always had the ability to make as much money as I wanted to; I just never really wanted to make money.
Now, I'm setting aside cash for my retirement, which is why I came to SA. As I never saw any value to money, but realize rationally that I need to save some for my DW when I eventually pass away, I came here to Dubai. I love my job, but I've had other jobs I love more. When I leave here, I'll go back to training - my true vocation. I doubt I ever "retire," as I actually love being in front of a class and the interaction and challenges of putting across the information so folks can genuinely understand the material. It's just that here in Dubai I make enough money to easily save and that's really all I'm here for.
Death and Money
Sorry for yet another long post.