Seven Facts Your Broker Won’t Tell You About The Fed and Your Finances.

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Don’t kid yourself. The Fed affects everything when it comes to your money. 

As I wrote previously, it was highly unlikely the Fed was going to pull back on purchasing $85 billion in Treasury and Mortgage bonds in September.

Because:

girl cry “Mom, I just saw Ben Bernanke!”

Have you checked the volatility in mortgage rates lately? The 30-year fixed breached 5% and now has backed off. How about activity? New-home sales are nowhere near pre-crisis recovery levels.

Wall Street and large investors have swallowed up existing homes which has spiked housing inflation, making them less affordable for home buyers like you and me. Ben Bernanke is clearly concerned about the overall state of the housing market which leaves him frozen to move away from the great experiment.

How would you feel about a higher interest rate on an auto loan or credit card? We’ve seen anywhere from a 4-10% decrease in median real incomes since 2008, for American families. Part-time employment is the new full time job. Anyone believe the Fed wants to weaken your shaky household balance sheet by creating monetary uncertainty in the face of inept fiscal policy? 

Have you checked the anemic interest you receive on savings accounts and money markets? It’s a bad joke. And what about the portfolio? There’s an impact due to interest rate policy.

There’s a big ka-pow  to the pocket and economic activity if rates continue to increase rapidly too, as they’ve done recently.

Brett Arends’ article about rising interest rates for MarketWatch was an eye-opener. Don’t blink: Click to read:

How the Fed can cause another 1987 crash.

As a student of the Great Depression, the last thing Ben Bernanke wants to do is create a 1937 like Fed hubris-induced market crash.

Higher rates matter. You’re smart enough to know that. So, what won’t your broker tell you about what looks like an imminent conclusion to the Federal Reserve’s grandiose bond-buying experiment? And what if the Fed puts off a taper as far out as 2015? It could happen. How will investors deal with the volatility?

Bonds are supposed to be the “safe” money, but is it?

What do you need to know to make you a smarter investor?

1). Cash is an asset class. No, it is. Really. Cash doesn’t gyrate. It provides protection when stocks and bonds are both heading south. Like now. Cash is a stabilizer. Think of it as the foundation under your house. Just because it’s not pretty and doesn’t feel like it’s doing much, realize it has an important job: To provide stability. Cash is a good diversification tool. It doesn’t zig, zag. It just sits there. Like an anchor. Think of cash as an anchor. Or a Snuggie.

Remember the Snuggie?

snuggie They “jumped the shark” with the doggie Snuggie.

Your broker would prefer all your money is invested regardless of prices paid for the investments. Having cash takes discipline. A portfolio strategy would be nice so there’s an ongoing  plan to put cash to work. Having cash won’t burn a hole in the portfolio. Eventually you’ll invest it. What’s the rush? Well, maybe you won’t since there’s nothing wrong with maintaining a targeted amount of cash in your asset allocation at all times.

From my own past experience I was advised by a “concerned” branch manager, that I held “too much cash” in client portfolios. I had ten percent across the board. You would have thought I committed murder. Ask your financial person: How much cash should I maintain?” Let me know when you get the blank stare, open mouth. Drooling.

2). I don’t have time to help you rebalance, I have a sales quota. Your broker’s main job is to sell. Then it’s pack you up and move you on to a place I call “no-rebalance land.”

Rebalancing is important at all times and especially important now. It’s a strategy to sell high, buy low. It’s also effective at managing portfolio risk over time.

Ask your broker – “What kind of rebalancing process is right for me now that interest rates are rising and stocks are off their highs?” I expect you to be met with more glazed eyeballs.

3). I’m relationship on the surface, transactions underneath. I was warm and fuzzy months ago when I sold you that fixed income investment. I’ve been out to lunch ever since.

Have you received a call from your broker to talk it out, gain knowledge about the current environment? Perhaps there’s nothing you need to change when it comes to your bond or fixed income allocations. It would be nice to know, wouldn’t it? A little reassurance and education can go a long way.

Leave a message. Your broker will get back to you.

4). I stink at understanding you from a behavioral perspective. I’m not a shrink, I’m a sales person. So many studies exist which outline how humans are not wired to place money into bonds, stocks, gold, widgets. Our brains are like primal beasts when it comes to investing. We are prone to emotional reaction (or overreaction), fear & greed, selling low, buying high.

We are our own worst financial enemies. Can your broker provide perspective? Odds are not good. It’s time for a good read. From Wall Street Journal writer Jason Zweig. He’s smart about this psychological money conundrum we all face. Here you go:

Your Money & Your Brain.

5). I don’t study on my own. I depend on a corporate think tank to feed me thoughts. This isn’t all bad. There are smart investment strategists out there. However, it would be refreshing if your broker had his or her own opinion about a macroeconomic event even if it conflicts with the corporate brain feeder.

A good broker will lay out the risks, rewards, pros and cons. Try this: “Forget what your company thinks about this interest rate train-wreck – What are YOUR thoughts?” I’m really setting you up for disappointment. I’m sorry.

6). I have no idea how Fed actions affect your portfolio long term. If you hear these words, keep your broker. He or she is a gem. Frankly, even during the Great Depression, interest rates were never this low for so long.

7). I have no thought-out rules to manage risk the Fed has created. First, to manage risk in your bond portfolio, shorten what’s called your bond portfolio duration (a measure of interest rate sensitivity) now. As prices have recovered in the face of a Fed “fakeout” or no taper, you now have an opportunity to re-position your fixed income allocation.

Currently, our portfolios are roughly 3-4 years in duration making them less sensitive to future increases to interest rates. We hold a targeted amount of risk in emerging markets bonds which possess attractive yields (4-5%). Municipal bonds are also priced attractively even for those in lower tax brackets.

Second, we are in the process of liquidating all GNMA investments – if interest rates increase again, refinancing activity will drop off which can lengthen a GNMA bond’s time frame to payoff or maturity. Longer time frames can result in greater principal risk or lower returns to current bondholders.

Third, we have created a series of duration-reduction rules based on our study of the long-term trends in Treasury yields. Currently, a 10-year Treasury yield of 3.15-3.25% would warrant attention and perhaps a reduction of bond durations to 2-3 years.

The unwind from this Fed experiment is beyond comprehension – there’s no historical precedent.

Make sure your adviser is at least searching for, inquiring about, gaining information from others who are smarter. Your financial partner needs to be flexible enough to change up your fixed income strategy if warranted.

Honesty, study and communication are the keys to make it through this period.

My thought? The Fed will not taper in 2013. However, the volatility in yields will remain as all of us cling to every word, each media bite out of Federal Reserve officials and then take action.

Overreactions will be the norm.

And you thought bonds were supposed to be the “boring” slice of your portfolio.

Don’t panic. Keep your cool.

Oh, and call your broker.

The Strip Down – How to Examine Yourself & Still Have the Guts to Leave the House.

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There’s a point, a crossroad, a series of moments that lead to peace; when you feel nothing much is left to take. There’s nothing more to lose. You’re naked, so naked, it’s almost like you’re see through. It’s like nude-squared. X-ray naked?

Oh, you get the picture.

xray

I’m staring into the reflection of pure humility and seeing the other side. The transition. Saggy gut, disappointing genitals. Hair growing out of places I didn’t realize could grow hair.. That’s something, right? I wince. It’s all for a reason: I’m beginning to understand.

As I lay flat on my back, “fed”,  thread through the rotating disk of an MRI machine, wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns, ass hanging out, unable to tie the thing to make me at least appear decent, I feel oddly, at peace. Deep.

I allow the calculated movement of the mechanism, the delicate whir of science, embrace me. Take over. A moment of raw acknowledgement.  A revelation of sorts. An exposed butt meeting the road of human.

Whatever it was, whatever it is, whatever it was going to be, was what it was going to be. And there was not a damn thing I could do about it. So?

I smiled. Genuine. Best in years.

Closed my eyes. Allowed the present moment to swallow me like one of those strong undertows that lurk in the waters off Coney Island.

Humbled. Stripped down. Like the Winter Warlock (just call me Winter) of the vintage Rankin/Bass campy claymation Christmas pop-culture hit – “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

There’s a point where “winter” loses his blustery, icy facade. Warmth releases. A simple gift triggers a  positive reaction. Suddenly, the frozen image melts away, he’s transformed into a white-bearded, frail old man with a Dowager’s hump and pigeon toes. Actually, he’s sort of hideous physically once his menace dies off.

How will you look when your menace melts?

winter warlock before Winter before.

Not good. I’m fucking sure of it.

Some people will indeed experience enlightenment in a lifetime, others will eternally walk a path, their minds chained within a constant prison forged of intimidating bars of webbed, thick ego. They’re not as blessed, I guess. I  can just feel bad for them now.

Random Thoughts:

1). How will you re-define yourself? When all that held you together from the past is stripped away -how will you re-emerge? If done  wisely, you’ll blossom – smarter and stronger than ever. Most important, you will have enhanced the present to the point where the world stops spinning, mental fog lifts and thoughts begin to make sense. Empower you. For the first time in a long time.

2). Find the right words to get you through. Kamal Ravikant in his new book “Live Your Truth” have provided the right word triggers for me. His wisdom allays the tensions of what I call “the transition” mind – a boundary between the present road and a path to inner peace.

He writes:

Somewhere along the way, you do your best, and then, you surrender. Let go. Of attachments to outcomes. Attachments to what you desire. Like a paper lantern you light and then release into the night sky.

Create those triggers that return you to the present, the moment. Because when you think about it, that’s all you got. This moment. The right now. For me it’s 5:03pm. Sunday.

Letting go is not powerlessness. It is freedom. It’s not giving up, it’s accepting. And the light will enter. Always does.

Use music to form the rope that pulls you back to focus. To the present.

3). Understand how behavior affects your investment performance. Making investment decisions out of fear or greed can dramatically long-term portfolio returns. When in the present, before you seek to make a portfolio change,emotion is removed from the process.  And that’s not easy. To be an astute investor, you must get a handle on your emotional makeup.

According to Michael Pompian in his book, “Behavioral Finance and Wealth Management,” you most likely fall into one of the following psychological camps. Each has its own pitfalls or “money traps” as I call them.

Are you the “Adventurer?” Impetuous, overconfident, volatile. A real gambler type. You drool to financial media porn. All over the board when it comes to investment ideas, and usually with no homework. It’s fire, ready, aim. You won’t face it – but your returns are probably downright embarrassing.

What about the “Celebrity?” Well, you’re afraid of being left out. Celebrities follow the herd; they do not possess an original idea. They’re prone to fall for “hot tips” which rarely work out.

Some are “Individualists.” These types forge their own paths. They’re typified by the small business pros or independent professionals. They’re careful, pragmatic and methodical. This is a level-headed bunch who most likely experience the greatest investment returns since they rarely make knee-jerk reactions based on short-term stock market movements or news.

“Guardians” are older and careful. They seek to preserve their investment assets and lack confidence when it comes to investing decisions. They’re also prone to be so conservative they have the potential to miss out on gains because to them, risk is narrowly defined to fluctuation of principal. The slightest price movement may be too much for a “Guardian”.

“Straight Arrows” are gifted at being well balanced. They fall nearer the center. A composite of the other investor types. If you’re a Straight Arrow” then you’re a rare breed – a truly rational investor.

4). Relish the accomplishments along the way. Don’t rush. Take your time. This shit is tough. A small step towards living in the present can wreak big havoc to the creator of illusion – your egotistical mind. It abhors your past, discounts your present, and fools you into believing that happiness exists somewhere in the future (good luck ever getting there).

winter melted Winter after – Stripped of his cold.

“You can get dressed now, Richard,” the MRI tech said. You’re done. With that she walked out, closing the thick wooden door behind her.

I was grateful to remain on my back a few more seconds. Looking up at the ceiling. I thought I heard something I never experienced before.

Quiet.

In the pain.

In the frailty.

I saw the paper lantern ignite.

Fly away in the wind of a whisper.

A deep breath.

I smiled again.

Twice in one day.

And I was thankful.

Just call me “Winter.”

Funeral Man: Read the Books, Live the Words.

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“Readin’ up a storm out here alone.”

Funeral man would lament. In the heat of summer, in the shade of a deep carpeted entrance to one of the fanciest funeral parlors in Brooklyn. A pile of dust. Inside the dust storm, a stack of books ranging from real classics like “Moby Dick” to hip then now-classics like “The Joy of Sex”, he’d read. Sit there for hours and read. Share thoughts. I always wondered how someone who smelled like dead body was optimistic enough to read about the joy of sex.

homeless readaer

Every day. All day.

In the heat.

From a white-granite ornate bench. A rest stop for the grieving (now reading).

Funeral man in his Rolling Stones ’77 concert tee, fascinated me for several summers. Inspired my love of books and printed words. He’d show up in June, be gone in September. For years I sat with him, listened as he read. Didn’t sit too close though. The musky odor of moldy page and person mixed with New York heat was occasionally too much.

“Buy two books. One read. One save. One book perfect. One book messy.”

It made my parents, (especially dad) insane when I asked him for money for the school book fair.

“Why in hell does he need so much money for books? And then he buys two of the same %)@))@#_@ damn book, too? What a  f***ing retard!”

Funeral Man was correct. I learned to hate cracking the binder of a new book, bending a page, messing up the cover of a new paperback. I was obsessed/distressed. Even with “one book messy.” It didn’t sit kindly with me to be “one book messy.” I did it. I read the book. But it stressed me out, regardless.

For a few 1970s summers I stayed. Near the dead. As Funeral Man espoused the benefits of reading, I listened closely.

And learned.

Random Thoughts:

1). Be open to messages from teachers. Teachers come from all areas of life. There doesn’t exist income or social criteria for those who provide lessons. I work backwards. In other words, I consider everyone who crosses my path a teacher, a provider of lessons, until they prove otherwise, or I feel I’m done with the lessons because on occasion, the learning is indeed required and appreciated, but the lessons are mentally painful. I choose not to continue.

2). There are times you will need to be brutally honest, insane, stand out, to communicate your point of view. When my last employer decided to throw ethics out the window and treat clients improperly just to make me look bad, I spoke out to my detriment. It’s ok. I have faith that in the end, it all works out when you stand for the greater good. Don’t sell out, stand out. Long term, you’ll be wiser. I’m learning we are a nation of sell outs. Life appears much easier that way. I see the beauty in it but I’m not going there. Funeral Man wasn’t a sell out (perhaps that’s why he smelled so bad). 

3). You are what you read. If you read garbage, you’ll think garbage and never challenge your mind. Pick up a subject outside your comfort zone. Fiction is fine, Fifty Shades of Foot Fetish is acceptable too, just make sure you throw in substance on occasion. Politics will muddy your thinking because there’s always a hidden agenda (so it’s garbage). Re-discover a classic. Funeral man was partial to Hemingway and Kerouac.

4). Grill your financial adviser. Ask him or her what books made an impact and why. Ask how many books are read in a year. You may be surprised at the responses. Understanding what your financial advisers read may provide a clue to their passions and interests for further discussion.

The summer of ’77, I threw Funeral Man a book curve ball. While reading near the foot of the master, a  self-improvement book he recommended, I looked to him and said:

“You know, you read some great stuff. Why can’t you live the words?”

He was clearly hurt. I mean with all this knowledge, why hadn’t he done more with his life?

What words will you read today and really take to heart?

Will sentences change your perspective, motivate you?

Words change me.

So do the lessons learned.

Funeral Man died in 1979.

I attended the service. Room B. Inside plush further inside plush of his favorite death parlor.

I didn’t recognize him at first: I thought it was a mix up. All cleaned up. Hair neat. His name was Sam. He wore a military uniform. With multiple medals hanging from his chest.

I truly felt bad for what I said.

Funeral Man was indeed a man of lessons.

He did live words. His truth. Obviously, it was just enough to drive him insane.

I ran four blocks home for my copy of “The Sun Also Rises.”

It was buried with Funeral Man a long time ago.

Not a cover was bent.

One book perfect.

One book saved.

Like a life not lived.

But not you, Sam.

You live on.

ripped dirty book

The Condition of Chronic or – How to Survive When a Piece of you is Dying.

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“This appears chronic.”

chronic kidney

Chronic. What’s that? Sounds like a newspaper. Like the Houston Chronic.

“Well, your kidney doesn’t have much meat.”

Hmm.

“Doc – Are you sure they didn’t scan my groin instead of a kidney?”

Laughter.

Curtain close.

thats all folks

Besides the ongoing, nagging throb coming from the right flank, like there’s a little alien dude in there clawing its way to freedom, I’m reminded my kidney is dying every day.

The doctor’s visit brought memories of a word from long ago. Thrashing. When my father was dying. He was in hospice care. The woman (saint) who helped us make him comfortable, advised me: He’s going to fight the death process by “thrashing.” Limbs will convulse. Expect sudden bursts of muscle movement. It’s a body’s last gasp before going under permanently.

And he fought. Boy, did dad thrash.

Yea. The kidney feels like sometimes it’s in a death throe, or playing ping pong with a marble. And I’m sad. Because I’ve become very attached to my internal organs. I’m sensitive to the pain because my right kidney and I have become very close. We sort of grew up together.

It’s weird when a piece of you thrashes.

And then.

Random Thoughts:

1). I’d rather lose three-dimensional over multi-dimensional any day. If I needed to make a choice, I’d lose a kidney over the ability to possess knowledge, maintain a sharp mind, stretch my imagination. Well, I’d rather have my cake and kidney too, but I’ve learned, especially as of late, you can’t keep everything.  Parts of you will eventually die. While you’re still alive. Dreams will require burial. The challenge is to keep as much of yourself as alive as possible before the entire system you’ve grown to depend on, folds up like the banking industry in 2008. This also includes your spirit to continue pursuing your dreams.

2). What dies first? You will go off the deep end. Your brain will die from panic if you try to control the outcome of a physical challenge. All you can control are your actions in the face of it. Focusing on the present and not trying to make the problem bigger than it is (or worrying about a worst-case scenario which may not occur) will only cause your sanity to die first.

Kamal Ravikant writes in his new book “Live Your Truth” that you must live in the moment and suffering occurs when we resist the moment. We are far stronger than our pain. It can come in waves, move through us, spice up our lives (yay) but suffering, that happens when we fight it, shut the doors and hold off, shouting – “No you should not be here..”

Don’t “thrash” or fight shit you can’t control; you’ll only expend  precious energy – end up nowhere. One the obstacle rolls over you, once you surrender, there’s an eerie calm and clarity to your thought process. I know. I’ve been there. Kidney, you listening? Now roll over.

3). A  greater piece of your net worth potential dies daily. If you’re not aware or just plain ignore the pitfalls of your saving and investment behaviors, every day your financial situation is gonna die. Progress can only come through acceptance of bad money habits and no longer making excuses. Ease also comes from living in the moment from a money perspective.

Take out five bucks (yes, actual paper money).Pass your finger tips slowly over the fibers in the currency. Look at the bill up close. Smell it if you dare. Then take out a pen and paper – write down what having money means to you. Write down short list of quick sentences. Focus on small actions you can take right now to save more, reduce debt or invest smarter (even if it means you require professional guidance getting it done).

4). Stress will kill. The more friction you create by trying to control outcomes in your life, the more kidneys you will lose (and you’re usually blessed with two, only). The real power you possess is focus. Focus on your efforts. Now, are your odds of success more favorable if your efforts are true? Sure. Are your efforts guaranteed to lead to the outcomes you seek? No. When you learn to be responsible for the actions taken and truly understand deep inside, how the outcomes can be far from what you expect, (or predict), the inner peace experienced will reduce your stress. The odds of maintaining those lovely organs you’re attached to, will increase. And that’s a good thing. You’ll laugh more in the face of adversity. You’ll crack funny jokes like I did (take my kidney, please).

Chronic is not death.

It’s the universe shaking you. Making you aware of a problem.

Chronic doesn’t regret to inform you that you need to do a better job.

Or your entire life will turn to shit.

What part of you will die today?

Which piece of you will live?

You decide.

fail kidney

Lessons Face Up: Three from Funerals.

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I was racing toward her house. In shock. I was numb to the potholes and other obstacles on Brooklyn roads.

 Sweating, pushing deep, in dense summer heat. 1977. My new Schwinn Sting Ray was sizzling tires on hot August NY streets. The banana seat, a metallic plastic with a double black vertical racing stripe, was as scorching as a furnace on full blast. But I didn’t care. I didn’t feel it.  For most of the two mile ride, I was standing up pedaling anyway.

Sting ray

It was grandma Nellie. On dad’s side of the family. His mother. What was to be a routine gall bladder operation, turned out to be the last time we saw her alive. After a blood transfusion. Since she always had some type of ailment, we sort of took grandma’s illnesses for granted. Gee grandma has another ache, gee what else is new? Another operation? She’ll be out in no time cooking again, for sure. No?

This time was different. Very different. Something went way wrong. And I never had a loved one, one so close to me die, so I pushed those pedals at a maddening pace for reasons I don’t quite understand. I had no idea what I was supposed to do once I arrived at grandma’s house. She died in the hospital but we were “instructed to meet” at the house per grandpa’s instructions. All I knew is I needed to get there. I was instructed. I obeyed.

It’s all blur after that. Until the funeral  – or the “wake,” where family allows viewing of the body which is all fancied up for the next energy adventure. The experience remains vivid in my mind. I can still smell the cloying odor of flowers. So many. My first open casket too, Nellie was in a misty-blue gown with silver shoes. Her gray hair was coiffed tight, slight smile, her third chin, not as “third” as it once was.

I touched her. Cold.

I withdrew my hand quick. Then suddenly felt ashamed.

Too many zombie flicks even then.

I placed my hand back on her joined fingers, a silver rosary string between them.

She looked more peaceful than she had in years. I was amazed. After all those tortuous years with my grandfather I’m sure she was glad to be rid of him. He was colder alive than she was dead. They slept apart. Did everything apart. I bet she was relieved to be rid of him, finally. And I could see it on her face.

But what about him now? Some family episodes you never forget..

Random Thoughts:

1). Wish always for one more day. Consistently, as I come across a person in my inner circle, I’m never afraid to express how grateful I am for their existence. There are those who have disappeared suddenly, like a friend from September, grandma who I didn’t visit in the hospital because she was always sick so what’s the big deal, a music icon, close friends, cousins, both parents, (Jesus, so many) that I wish I had one more day to see, touch, talk to them.

Regrettably, I can’t go back. But in my head, I do. I’ll hear a song, watch a movie, a date on the calendar will pass, I’ll come across a photo I thought I deleted, and there you are again – Wishing for one more day. It’s part of what I call “the human drag.” The tormented thoughts that tire you, push hard on a nerve, never go away, throb in a distance but close enough to injure. Right around a mental corner. There the fuck it is – the big turd in the middle of your mental soup.

Regret is part of our psyche. And for some, it’s strong. When investing, we regret we sold a stock too soon, too late, we didn’t invest enough money in Apple or we sold it and it went higher by a billion percent. So now, I’m a bit more vocal with those I care about. To lessen the regret. If I miss someone I tell them, if I care I say it. If I don’t, well,  I say that too. If I sell an investment too soon but I made a profit, I let it go. If I sell it too late, well I learn an expensive lesson. But I never stop wishing.for.one.more.day. A client: “I sold that stock in 1983, like an asshole.” My gosh, we’re reliving a Phillip Morris stock trade from 1983? Seriously? 

Dad was out with some model chick, 25 years his junior, the night grandma died. What dumb luck. Or fate.  He was supposed to visit his mother but decided the hot model was more important. He called Nellie in the hospital for like five seconds. Said he would see her tomorrow. There was no tomorrow. A week before he died in 1993, dad told me how much he regretted that decision. Two decades later he still carried that mind weight around like an anchor. I asked: “What was that model’s name again?” He laughed. He said “I don’t know.” Yikes. Then he gave me a gaunt, smart-ass look. Message received.

2). What will people think of you after you’re gone? My grandmother did some incredible things for poor families, especially kids. She loved kids. She was the janitor of my public school (P.S. 215) when I was attending; I was embarrassed because she cleaned toilets. Then, at her funeral, I discovered how so many of the kids loved her, how she gave candy, played Santa Claus at Christmas for them at the local library. I totally missed it. I didn’t want to see it. I loved her but she was a janitor. I did tell her how much I loved her, so at least I don’t live with complete regret so many years after her death. But I wish I knew what others thought of her while she was alive. Write down what you want people to remember about you. The good things. Then execute the plan so it works out that way. Oh and no strippers at my funeral, please? Thanks.

3). People feel their mortality at funerals. Do you? Attend enough funerals and you begin to see how blood and bones wear out. You become overly sensitive to it. We’re all equal at the end. All those funerals have given me the motivation to stay as healthy as possible. And now that I have a physical problem preventing a right kidney from functioning properly, I’m striving more than ever to stay in shape, eat right, follow a better sleep discipline. Want to gain health? Follow James Altucher’s The Daily Practice as best you can. You will see, feel the results.

Grandpa Frank was beside himself.

As they closed Nellie’s casket, he collapsed. Screaming: “I wish I would have treated you better, I LOVE YOU!” 

I never heard “I LOVE YOU” from him before. Ever.

From that point he was a different man. Completely.

On Christmas eve 1985 I called him.

“Grandpa, you’re my friend, I love our relationship. I’m just so grateful we’ve become so close. I’ll never forget it.”

He died the next day.

Christmas.

And I’m thankful.

One less weight on my head.

I have enough already.

So do you.

Time to bury them.

A Luling Moment: More Big Stories from Small Town Folk.

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Stories in Texas are as steeped in humidity as they are in history.

Luling green sign

Recent events, mundane episodes of daily life strain through an unexplained time warp – Shared words age along bands of narrow streets within close-knit towns webbed to rail lines. When trains pass through, the round sound of whistle sepia tones the heated sky. Clouds halt above. The current year fades in decade drips.

Internal textures of individual lives have a way of bleeding through to the surface. It’s the inner connections people have with the land and even when there is economic progress, the past has a way of sweating through aging municipal frameworks.  In a strange way, it’s comforting to see the past pushing its way through to the present.

The signs of enlightenment are there for those open enough to accept them. The teachings carry strong on the acrid smell of industry, the local smoked cuisine and in the hot sweetness of carnival caramel corn. White-hot brick walls and penetrating sunlight can’t stop history from fading, either. And for all of this I’m grateful.

Aged wall Luling

The stories, based on blood-rich textures of family ties long gone still travel. The weather,  blazing June in Texas, motivates you to seek icy-cold sweet at the Luling Watermelon Thump. Four sweat-drenched days of food, rides, vendors, iced beer and watermelon-themed events from speed eating to seed spitting for distance.

This New York boy is there every year for the amusements and most of all, to learn from surroundings a galaxy apart from what, who made me who I am today. A chance to expand mind horizons, and most important, continue to learn lessons I can carry with me always.

This year at 112 degrees in the shade, tiny town was environed by a blazing heat I have never experienced before. Strangely, I welcomed the challenge. Messages are strongly received twirled among the acrid odor of sulfur which permeates Luling, so I knew the conditions, as harsh as they were, were just yet another wake-up call for yours truly.

As the country artists played on in a distance, as the heat grew bolder, as I walked a dirt road so hot it felt like ash pellets kicked up with my heels, I stopped to consider the wisdom I was gaining this time ’round.

Random Thoughts:

1). How much heat can you stand before you change? Whether you voluntarily move out of your cool, comfort zone or you’re forced out, how much will you need to burn before you move forward? Standing still in the heat of Luling, feeling myself being baked alive, I understood how quickly one can die while stationary. In place. Your true self, the truth of self can rise when the heat does. It can carry you to places you’ve never been just as long as internally, you can remain cool, take the necessary steps to improve. Oh, you’ll hurt, that’s part of the sacrifice, but eventually you will embrace the fire. In the beginning, the burns felt third degree. As time goes on, I yearn for the heat. I’ve learned to look forward to it. C’mon 112, I can handle you.

Old Bill M., outside of Blake’s Restaurant was selling fresh jalapenos from his garden.

“Hey son, want to stop sweating? Eat one of these.” I did. It worked. Not sure why.

2). Many threads go deep. In the front window and inside of the Luling Oil Museum there’s a display of incredible quilts, all of watermelon, Luling and Texas history themes. They are amazing works of art. As I sought air-conditioned shelter at the museum, I stared in wonder at these material arts hung about.

Laurie P, donating her time at the front desk looked up at me, said: “The family threads go deeper.” She smiled. I walked away cooler. And with a lesson.

As most of my blood family is gone, I began to contemplate who was family. What are the rules, checklists I follow to allow someone in my inner circle? What are yours? Family is so much more than you believe. On occasion, you’ll let the wrong person in, however, that’s a misjudgment on your part, not the person you’ve allowed to penetrate.

Without feeling the heat, living the error, you won’t learn or embrace a moment and that’s a mistake. As my dear friend Andrea reminds me consistently: “There are no victims.” I’ve expanded on this sentiment: “All threads are important.” Good or bad, threads expand your quilt. Stepping back, even a bad tapestry possesses a beauty.

Luling quilt

3). How white-hot is your ride? It was unfortunate the carnival rides were too unbearable to enjoy this year. They were white-hot to the touch.

Sam M. was working the Tilt-A-Whirl – “Oh, the ride is so much fun, you won’t mind the heat.”

I wondered how many times in my life I had been on a white-hot ride. How I loved the excitement even though the heat was dangerous. How many investors love white-hot rides with their money as they tend to own investments that have already experienced huge run-ups in price, or still fall for hot stock tips, or attach to stories that lose them money because people love stories and find facts too cold.

4). The old man is gone. Outside the Luling antique haven (once the town movie theater), was a creepy old man mannequin that sat in the ticket booth. He has been there for years, rotted by the sun. Holding an aged newspaper. I loved seeing him. He was like an anchor. But he was missing this trip. The booth was empty and I hated it. The change really disturbed me.

DSC_0102

Maven P. said: “It was just his time to move on.”

I didn’t want him to “move on” whatever the hell that meant. And I was afraid to ask. I mean, was he thrown away, eaten by rats? What happened? Change can be so incredibly difficult even when the situation we’re in is dangerous to our health and well being. We seek anchors. After awhile, we can’t tell the difference between what is good or bad for us. Until the old man is gone.

We long for familiarity; we despise the thought of one day sitting alone in a ticket booth. We remember them, we yearn for those we love who are now gone. All that remains are  dusty images of once was. We move from joy to pain in what feels, like a blink but of course, is much longer. When do you admit – “it’s time to move on?”

Maven assured me I’ll love what’s coming to the booth for the next thump. I’ll trust him. Fool myself that change is good. That the familiar can rot you.  Cool sunglasses on “Sam” yes? I’m a missin’ you, Luling Sam.

5). Learn to feel. Again. George T. showed me how to find the most perfect, sweetest yellow-fleshed watermelon.

“You see, ” as he knocked on the outside of a green beauty, “hear that?” The sound was sort of hollow, louder than when he thumped others around it. “That’s how you pick ’em.”

Learn to respect, acknowledge, the sound of sweetness in your life. It could be anything. George was so passionate about my watermelon selection, he was willing to give me a lesson for when I made it back to the “big city” as he called it. Appreciate those who share knowledge with you. Realize how sweet lessons can come from anyone, everyone. Thump the resources of those around you. Make sure to share your wisdom with others. Unfortunately, some knowledge isn’t so sweet, but learn it just the same.

It was another trip. The same trip. But it was different.

The heat was cathartic.

The watermelon was sweeter.

The lessons were timely.

And the train just kept going on through.

Until next year.

The whistle blows.

Cutting through the humidity of what now is past.

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The Star Spangled Hammer – Three Lessons for the Fourth of July.

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As I’m learning to live more in the present, I can’t help but be reminded of the past. I believe it’s my mind’s way of refusing to let go. The more aware I am of where I am today, the greater my mind grasps frantically, for the rope of the past.

Recently, I began to visualize a hammer smashing those memories of the past, to bits. It’s a nice hammer too. Like Thor’s. Anytime a debilitating thought arises I whip out the mental pulverizing device and go ape shit on it. So far, nobody injured and it’s working fine.

Thor

So what if for today, just one day, we all carried a hammer? No wait: A star-spangled hammer.

No, not get star-spangled HAMMERED (although that doesn’t sound half bad).

Sunny

Random Thoughts:

1). Star-Spangled Hammer #1 – Smash those thoughts that prevent you from discovering success. We’re all afraid to try something new; it’s not easy to fight the fear. Today is a good day to step outside your comfort zone like those who fought/fight for the country.  Our minds, the fears of the unknown, prevent us from rising to the next level. Declare your independence from negative self-talk. It’s freedom day. 

2). Star-Spangled Hammer #2 – Don’t think you’re stuck in a dead-end job anymore. As the employment situation improves, you have a greater chance of securing a more lucrative position. Don’t settle with unhappiness in cubicle-ville. Decide you will learn a new skill that will make you increasingly marketable. Take one step to improve. Begin a part-time business doing what you love.  Who knows where it will lead?

3). Star-Spangled Hammer #3 –  Take a hammer to debt. Work to aggressively pay down credit card debt even if it means postponing saving for retirement. Excessive high-interest debt is a chain around your neck. Sit with a professional who can help you create action steps to consolidate and pay off/down the  burden that weighs you down.

Throughout history, Americans have proven themselves to be resilient people.

Never forget.

It’s a birthright. 

Your heritage.

To embrace.

captain america two

Oh, or use a shield.

A shield is good too.

Five Lessons from an Urban Supermarket.

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Damn you Google Maps, Google Earth, Google Detectives: Damn you all to hell!

heston damn you

The first/best “DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!” ever. The original “Planet of the Apes.” I believe Hollywood has had the balls to remake this film like three times. 

Eckhart Tolle, known as the “father of inner peace” should be arch nemesis of this Google invasion of privacy, but I’m thinking he’s way too self-actualized to even sweat the effort. I can hear him – “who needs this Google you speak of?”

To arrest a mind troubled by the lambasting of ego, an individual must seize the now, the present. Today. This moment.

I’m sorry ET – I’m a work in progress. Always evolving. BUT THAT DAMN GOOGLE.

Tolle ego

Allows me, so easily, to scope out the physical landmarks from my history. It tempts me to unlock doors I prefer remain closed. Behind that granite-like barrier in my mind is a location I refer to as “deep past.” Thoughts, wispy remnants of a world I knew, longer than 15 years ago. An intellectual shelter cordoned off and dark. There’s much mental mist surrounding this space in my brain. It’s unfortunate I can still dig so deep with a shovel Google provides.

Structural artifacts for the most part, still stand: The apartment complex in Brooklyn where I was raised (allowed to run free), even looks better than the shithole it was when I was a kid.

A sycamore tree that I loved, in the front courtyard of misty memories of urban home, is now three times the size it stood in the 1970s. I recall how focused my stare toward the top of that tree, its beautiful colors in fall, robust leaves in summer. I’d imagine I was somewhere else, anywhere else – clean, less populated, not drowning in dog shit. Quiet. Surrounded by blue sky and leaves. I’m glad the tree is still there, healthier than ever. I wonder if anyone else used it/uses it as a symbol of freedom or release. A living monument to better futures.

The businesses, restaurants I frequented have different names, yet the outlines of these structures haven’t changed much. Businesses have new paint, different tenants, yet the memories remain entrenched.

Several buildings have been razed, making way for high-rise, condo progress and it makes me sad. My grandparent’s house on Kings Highway is gone. In it’s place a multi-story brick and smoked glass monster tower. Cold. The family warmth has been replaced by business, but not in my heart or a place deeper. Warmth lives. I can still smell nana’s cooking. How her recipes took the edge off cold NY winters.  I’ll never lose that aroma. It stays with me. In times of stress I seek to inhale the garlic, robust spices in her rich tomato sauce.

And the damn epic-center of my childhood pain and embarrassment once located on East 4th Street and Avenue U in Gravesend Brooklyn, is nothing but memory. The structure built on its dust is now a multiple family residence. The supermarket from hell can probably raise itself from construction death, overtaking the residence. I wouldn’t be surprised.

Spinner’s Supermarket:  It was all the rage. It was all we had. Aged but clean. Wide aisles, well stocked. I can still see as clear as yesterday, the florescent gleam off shiny floors so strong, the smell of wax in the air.

More on Spinner’s later but what about that damn Google again? It’s disruptive to the progress of a human mind.

Who knows what this Google is really up to as it infiltrates neighborhoods. It’s too easy to scope out locations, utilize technology to puncture the present, the NOW and go back even though you shouldn’t.

The house where a father died, the first lesson about the value of hard work, the Italian restaurant frequented in high school. All so tempting to discover how these locations have weathered the decades.

Now..

I was happy and sad that Spinner’s was gone. Like it was yesterday, I can remember walking up to the electronic door entrance, placing the soles of my Pro-Keds on the black-ribbed rubber mat which triggered entry. I can still see the tan brick structure and the name SPINNER’S, outlined in blood-red large block letters across the front, above six large plate glass windows.

It was the place “the list,” from mom came to life. Along with the food stamps to purchase what was on that list. I was so incredibly embarrassed to use food stamps. I’d wait, sometimes up to an hour, for a check-out line to clear out so I can use them without anyone behind me.

On the list. Standard fare – milk, Italian bread.  Necessities. Then there was the horrifying stuff, written in the bowel of the list  – the mental strain part. The beer and tampons part.

Bread – check.

Kotex – check.

Old Milwaukee – check check. 

Wishing I was dead – check check check.

Bucky the manager always felt bad for me. Tough to see a nine year-old give up pride at such an early age, I guess. 

“You know kid, we can’t take food stamps for dose items,” he would say in his heaviest, authoritative Brooklyn accent.

Then he’d nod his head once toward the cashier. A store manager’s blessing. An act of permission for the inappropriate use of government assistance. A ghetto “let the kid pass,” executive decision as store manager.

I understand he was being kind but I wish, just once, he would have been less of a “softy.” Stood his ground – “NO kid. And tell your mother, we can’t take food stamps for beer and shit that absorbs body fluids.” At least the blood, beer monkey would have been off my back. I could have healed. Not in the cards. It’s now just Spinner mist below the foundation of an urban high rise.

So Spinner’s? Center point of shame. I’m glad you’re gone. Bygones. Ashes to ashes, Frankenberry to dust. 

Frankenberry

Yea Bucky, you were so thoughtful. I know you died in 1982. I’m glad I say, glad.

Random Thoughts:

1). How does your past help you or inhibit you now – in the present? I created a handwritten list. In blood-red ink. Past Helps, Past Hurts. My list totals about even – help vs. hurt. I’ve got work to do. Don’t mess with me, Google!

Now I’m working on crossing off items on the Past Hurts list. I’m mentally building the bridges, sweating the textures that connects long then to right now. Then burning those bridges, ripping the textures. And it’s working. The exercise is helping me understand who I am, why I make mistakes.

I do the same for investments I’ve sold too soon that turned out to be big winners. What kind of past financial/investment mistake patterns do I take ownership for? How can I change those behaviors. Already, being aware of the shortcomings has helped me achieve greater performance for me and clients I’m responsible.

2). Is the soul you own, the essence of who you are in the present, been improved from what it was in the past? I call this seasoning. As you age, sharp edges dull a bit. Sometimes out of empathy, on occasion, illness. Shit, you mellow out. There’s nothing wrong. Do you see your own weaknesses in others? Are the people you’re attracted to mere projections of the past, a way to make peace with what once was or never came to fruition? People who remind you of your past represent the worst parts of yourself: Extract them, cut them, remove them from your life. Today.

3). Who was/is your Bucky? Are you bucked-up? You know Bucky. An adult from your past who was just trying to be nice but should have been more forceful to teach you or others a lesson. Passive Bucky. Or perhaps your Bucky was an adult, close to you, who just didn’t get involved even though they knew you were hurting. Insensitive Bucky. Or your Bucky was a jerk who threatened you like a Bully Bucky.

The planet is full of too many fucking Buckys. Forget this global warming, let’s talk about containing the Buckys.  If I see an injustice against another, I’m going to speak up. If witness an organization abusing its authority, I’m going to call them out. I don’t care how powerful the Bucky is either. The internet, social media empowers one person to communicate a message to the masses. Fuck off, Bucky society. Although, if you do decide to fight be prepared for war, otherwise don’t bother. Also be prepared for self-inflicted damage. Think of injury as battle scar.

4). The past is a behavioral drag but a great teacher. Do you know most retirement plan investors lost money through the greatest stock bull market in history? Why? Because humans are recency animals. Long term perspective for most is clearly impossible. So, when the media hype began to frenzy about technology being the new “paradigm” in 1998, investors began to pile in to tech stocks at the top of the market cycle, driving up price/earnings to impossible levels. They basically ignored stocks from 1982 (the beginning of the bull market) until 1998 (close to the top/end of the bull market) thus suffering great losses in 2000. Professionals also got fooled, so don’t feel so bad.

When it comes to investing, it’s actually worthwhile to study history. The nature of our beast doesn’t change. Fear, greed, boom, bust. What goes up dramatically in price will eventually return to earth. What looks beat up should be bought. Good luck doing that on your own.

“The perennial refrain from critics is: You just don’t get it. Internet stocks / housing / energy prices / financial stocks / gold / silver / bonds / high-yield stocks / you-name-it can’t go down. This time is different, and here’s why.

But this time is never different. History always rhymes. Human nature never changes. You should always become more skeptical of any investment that has recently soared in price, and you should always become more enthusiastic about any asset that has recently fallen in price. That’s what it means to be an investor.” Jason Zwieg, columnist. Wall Street Journal.

Cut out the above and tape it to your bathroom mirror. Kill the portfolio underperformance Bucky. 

5). Don’t sell (yourself) what’s expired. Bucky was a master of merchandise rotation. I remember purchasing expired Boo-Berry on numerous occasions because it was moved to the front of the line of cereal boxes. Who would have thought this manufactured, chemical breakfast mix could expire? And who checked? He was an inventory management king.

boo berry

Are you selling yourself stale thoughts? Are imprints of your past interrupting your present? And who created those thoughts? You did, dummy. Your ego can’t let go of what came before. Release the Boo Berry! The ghost that haunts. Camouflaged by sweet, marshmallow goodness designed to seduce. I know you Boo Berry. Bucky sent you.

Spinner’s – you’re history.

Bucky  – you’re worm food for close to thirty years now.

Mom – you and your lists are long gone.

Me – I continue to stock up on lessons. From new supermarkets, bigger aisles, fresher merchandise.

Just ring me up.

No beer and tampons for me today.

Or ever.

Cool Perspective in a Warm Breeze: 5 Ways to Work Through Turbulent Times.

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Just when you think you’re going under.

Just when you believe your life hits a point beyond anything bad you’ve felt before.

Just at the time you feel you’re going to break, even though you’ve been strong your entire life.

Just when you question everything and can’t come up with positive, reassuring answers.

There’s a shift in perspective.

The wind changes.

whirlwind

Perhaps it’s self-preservation. Cowardice. Not sure.

There was a point a few months back when I questioned the unquestionable:

Is it worth being here? Where was my value?

Did I ever provide value to begin with?

Was it all an illusion?

Was I my career, my job, my writing, my knowledge?

What the fuck happened over the last nine months, can anyone tell me? 

I examined it from various levels – 40,000 feet, mostly. Then a nosedive to ground zero.

I  was working to convince myself: Perhaps my time in this life had run out. I wanted the control. I wanted to release the coil. To discover where the energy goes. I mean everything runs its course, right?

I asked myself the following:

Would I have better hair? Straighter please. Like David Cassidy.

Would I have private parts that more resembled my father’s as opposed to my mother’s? (Self-deprecating humor is healthy, people).

Would I be famous, more accomplished, a better writer, a more empathetic person, richer, would I have a better nose?

Would I make wiser decisions for clients, friends, loved ones?

Would I be fooled again to trust, to love, to cherish?

Would I still be lactose intolerant?

I couldn’t answer any of these questions. Because you can’t lay out a path for the unknown and your past tricks you to answer negatively. 

I realized how important it was, is, to focus on the present.

The breeze taught me so.

At a Valero station. As I pumped gas. I closed my eyes. Focused on where I was, what I was doing. The beauty of the moment. I was grounded. I was still here after all the mental anguish.

Then from nowhere, a breeze came. Warm. It hit my skin and burst around me. The wind (ok, a breeze squared), rare in Texas, felt like nothing I ever experienced.

Why?

Because it’s 100,000 degrees in Texas and just plain felt good? Maybe.

hot in texas

Or was I in the present? Aware of the now, which accentuated the sensation. All these years I’ve spent building toward the future, I never fully appreciated where I was today. What a waste.

What a waste to treat the now like it’s merely a weigh station between what was and what was to be. Especially when you realize, life, who you are is right now. Today.

Maybe that’s why I love financial planning so much as I’m always trying to paint the picture of a financial future, when I should be increasingly focused on where people are financially right now.

I’ll never forget that breeze of enlightenment.

Random Thoughts:

1). Realize your ego is the greatest enemy. Your ego thrives on tricking, misleading you. It’s like those hot kids in high school who incessantly reminded you how unworthy you were to hang with them. You weren’t perfect – too short, your face was ugly, too fat, too skinny. My ego constantly reminds me of how I’m not successful enough and if I hit a certain level of success (my ego has not defined) I will be happy. The ego is flowing with conditions and impossible goals that can’t be reached. And if you do reach them, your ego says “listen asshole, you’re just keeping up here. Move to the next level and then I’ll deem you worthy of existence.”

I have learned that the more I focus on what’s underneath me and not what’s in back or in front of me, I can shut that ego down. Focusing on today distracts the ego from its goal – to destroy your self esteem. Limit your potential. It wants you to fail so it can tease, bully.

2). Learn from the past. But don’t let it weigh down your present. I have learned some valuable lessons from people in my past. For a time, those people made me angry. Not any longer. The lessons I’ve learned from the past, help me appreciate the present even more. Some experiences have made me who I am today, added to the texture who is me. Appreciate your layers, who you are, faults and all. The faults, the dents, are great arsenals to appreciate the present.

3). Breathe more. Sounds stupid, I know. During the day, I use deep breathing to gear me to focus on the present. Breathe in deep – hold for 6 seconds. Release. Three times. I then close my eyes and open wide. It’s like I stopped a film, mid scene. Then I ask: What am I grateful for RIGHT NOW AT THIS MOMENT? I can’t tell you how this has stopped Mr. Ego in his wicked tracks.

4). Don’t take out fear and greed on your portfolio. Fear, greed, are ultimate destroyers to portfolio returns. The S&P 500 is off roughly 6.5% from its high point in May, and we’ve seen incredible overreaction by bond and stock investors to sell. If you have specific, written rules for rebalancing your portfolio (buying and selling based on specific guidelines), then you can take advantage of swoons (buy low) and manage euphoria (sell high).

5). Appreciate your humanity. Nobody is perfect. Perfection is an illusion of the ego. I’ve learned “perfection within imperfection” where imperfections allow for differences, discussions and if you’re open-minded: Learning.

The wind was warm today but it was there. From nowhere.

I’ll believe it came just for me. To add perspective.

Appreciation.

Where will your breeze come from?

What will it be?

Today.

Now.

World War C (Campy): Zombieland Rules to Survive By.

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I just read about Max Brooks, the writer of “World War Z” and son of Mel Brooks and Anne B. The fascination with zombies never ceases. It’s been with me since 1973. Every now and then I can feel a  rotting biter close by.

I never miss an opportunity to see the living dead: Return of them, Day of, Dawn, Shaun, a couple of “Night” remakes and ostensibly, the comedic genius of Zombieland.

As I’ve been watching Zombieland lately, I realize how incredibly clever this movie remains, although like Max Brooks and other “zombie zealots” I do not dig nor do I want to believe in, the fast zombies. The ones who can run faster than me scare me the most. Zombieland is four years old and the wit is timeless.

Years ago, I created several rules of my own to survive a zombie holocaust. Little did
I know we all would find credible guidelines in action on the big screen. I should have
turned my love for those decaying creatures into something lucrative a long time ago but no,

I wanted to work with money.

That’s such zombie thinking! This zombie biz brings in like $6 billion a year. Not too shabby for rotting, maggot-infested moving corpses.

Anyway..

The character Columbus in Zombieland was always prepared. He was a meticulous planner.

A young man I respect. A geek for bleak times. A man-boy I’d be honored to travel alongside on blighted, zombie-infested highways. Why? Because not only was Columbus (nicknamed after his hometown, Columbus, Ohio), smart. He was funny. He was a fatalist with a passion to get laid, he had an irritable bowel (been there). He always accepted the dark, yet underneath was a flame of once was. A desire to live. A desire to see a hot brunette naked. Sigh.

columbus shit

Columbus was so human in zombie-infested world. 

So in honor of you, Columbus and the opening of the movie “World War Z” I present the money rules of Zombieland (which are also worthwhile to consider while some of us prepare with alacrity for the zombie invasion. Apocalypse overused lately):

Rule #1 Cardio: The new breed of zombies doesn’t saunter (thank director Zack Snyder who brought back speed from the dead with his respectable remake of Dawn of the Dead). They run. Fast. You must stay in tip-top shape to survive in Zombieland. If you’re overweight in Zombieland, well, you’re done. Just done. 

fat zombieland

Take note of the humor of Zombieland as soon-to-be chubby victim is chased by zombie stripper with dollars secured in panties! Brilliant. So brilliant. Love you guys. 

Saving money takes incredible endurance. Your ability to save is going to take some sweat (and blood, possibly tears). To compensate for lower future investment returns, your  savings discipline will need to be robust for another decade. And as long as you’re attempting to be steps ahead of the “running” dead, aerobic exercise is just plain good for you.

Based on credible studies you’ll need to command a pot of money in excess of $250,000 in today’s dollars to fund healthcare costs in retirement.And we’re not even talking how much you’ll need if you spend three years drooling all over yourself in a swanky assisted care facility.

Why not work harder now to combat high healthcare expenses later? Preventative action through exercise and a clean diet will pay off regardless of whether a zombie rising occurs or not. So..

Remember:

cardio

Rule #2 Double Tap: In Zombieland, this is the “insurance” rule; one shot usually isn’t enough to kill a zombie. Be on the safe side and insure the dead is dead by taking a second shot. Contact your insurance company and double-check coverage especially home and auto to make certain you’re covered in case of disaster. Check out the insurance hub at http://www.bankrate.com. Information about homeowners and auto insurance can be found at http://www.iii.org, the Insurance Information Institute.

Investigate an umbrella insurance policy which is an extra layer of protection against lawsuits resulting from damage to someone else’s property or injuries in case of accident. It can also protect you from false claims such as libel and slander. For roughly $400 annually, the coverage is downright cheap and worth a look. Think of it as extra bullets. And in Zombieland, you can never have enough bullets.

Rule #3 Beware of Bathrooms: Ok – a tough one you think, however this is really an overarching statement about being stuck in an awkward position at the worst possible time. You don’t want to be caught on the bowl when the living dead target you!

Don’t get caught with your pants down when emergencies arise. Make sure to maintain
six months of living expenses in a savings or money market account. Just as I always wear a belt so it’s tougher to get the pants down, I recommend six months as a bare minimum to be safe.

Three months of emergency savings as a rule, is a financial zombie that must be shot in the head. There still remains a good chance that your new job will pay less than the one you lost, so an adequate buffer is mandatory.

Rule #4 Seatbelts: Taking creative routes, stopping short, driving fast? It’s all normal in Zombieland and occasionally in Financialworld too. When it comes to investing, your
emotions are driven by fear and greed. They’ll take you on a breathtaking ride more often than you think.

Successful investors learn to manage their emotions. In disciplined doses you must be strong and sell into greed and buy into fear. The seatbelts of rules and disciplines will keep you secured.

As Zombieland’s Chairman Ben Bernanke roils every asset market, you just don’t feel safe. Gold is a shit storm, bonds are down, stocks are down. Cash appears to be the only automatic weapon with endless bullets available.

During these times in markets you feel like you’re standing in a parking lot. Naked. Coated in BBQ sauce. Holding a sign above your head that spells out “EAT ME.” Oh, and you’re screaming at a hoard of zombies to come and get it.

Sit with your financial pro now. Or find one who can help you outline specific portfolio buy and sell guidelines and master the greatest enemy of investment returns – YOUR BRAIN. And zombies LOVE BRAINS!

zombies eat brains

Rule #5 Travel Light: Zombies seemingly pop up anywhere-they’re eerily stealth. In Zombieland you don’t want to be lugging all kinds of junk when you need to be nimble at all times.

When it comes to money be sensitive to investment, credit and insurance expenses. Make certain to read the fine print and realize all choices have expenses. The key to success is to know what you’re getting for the hard-earned money you spend or invest.

For example, term life insurance is a lot cheaper than variable life; maintaining or using a credit card is convenient however realize you’ll pay on average 16% interest for the luxury. Fair and lighter fees mean more money in your pocket over the long term.

Rule #6 Don’t (DO) Be a Hero: Columbus eventually realized that sometimes you need to be a hero in Zombieland. Be sensitive enough to know yourself and realize when you must admit a mistake, change a rule and move on. It’s never too late to change a bad behavior.

According to several academic behavioral finance studies, most investors will hold on to
losing investments way too long and sell winners too quickly. Men especially have a difficult time admitting mistakes and changing strategies. Being close-minded to new ideas or holding on to losing investments until they “return from the dead,” is a sure fire path to bloody future returns.

Rule #7 Limber Up: Before working through an unchartered or questionable area it’s best to warm up. In Zombieland a pulled muscle can slow you down and before you know it you’re on the menu!

People I meet and many I talk with are seeking some form of investment to get them rich quick. It all sounds exciting but getting rich quick is a sexy fairy tale destined to pull the money muscle right out from under you. There is no excuse for homework and discipline. If you dig deep enough into get-rich quick schemes they’re surprisingly easy to unravel.

Rule #8 When in Doubt Know your Way Out: Perhaps one of Columbus’ best. You must have an exit strategy when entering a building in Zombieland. Precious time can be wasted by surprises or attempting to unblock an exit.

Know your rules of exit before you own any investment. Individuals should check their
investments at least semi-annually as they ebb, flow and change and occasionally not for the better.

It’s important to also make certain your beneficiaries are updated on company retirement plans, IRAs and life insurance policies to make certain those you don’t desire to receive the assets, are removed. You wouldn’t believe how common it is for ex-spouses to be unintentional recipients of assets you meant for others. And this shit is ironclad. Once you die, the wrong people will receive your money.

Rule #9 The Buddy System: It’s crucial for a friend to have your back to clear an area or help you out of a sticky undead situation. There’s nothing wrong with having another set of eyes to help you review your financial situation as long as the person is qualified, objective and has your best interest in mind. Heck, as long as the person you confide in has your back it’s worth gaining an opinion, right?

Oh, and if you do hire a professional it’s important to understand how they receive payment and divulge any conflicts of interest up front. Ask the critical question: “How do you get paid?” You want specifics.

Rule #10 Check the Back Seat: Heck, it’s necessary to do this whether the living or dead are hiding back there! Your financial situation must be able to withstand unwelcomed surprises.

A disability can devastate a financial plan, even if it’s short term in nature. Do not overlook the need for disability insurance coverage; don’t be tempted to play the odds. Most companies will provide short and long-term disability coverage as part of a benefits package. Consult your current insurance professional and secure coverage as
soon as possible.

Random Thoughts:

I write a lot. I keep a red Moleskine notebook with me all times. Yesterday, I wrote,spilled out the answers to these five questions. Happy to share them with you. Because at the end of the world, you want to make sure you have your shit in order emotionally. No regrets.

Here we go. But before we do that..One more Zombieland photo:

zombie clown

God I hate clowns. Zombie clowns? I can’t even go there.

1). Who would you say “I love you” to first in case zombies rained down on your neighborhood? My girl Haley. So why wait?  If you love someone tell them. Today. Now. Wake them up. They’ll be pissed off but do it. A zombie drop is scheduled in your vicinity, within the hour.

2) What would you take with you in case you needed to leave in a hurry? I keep with me an old letter. Almost 20 years old. It was written about my dying dad. From his doctor at the time. It explained how amazed this doc was at my dad’s mental ability to fight the cancer eating him alive at the time. “I never had a patient fight for life like this. I am in awe of him.” I’m thinking I would need to read this frayed note. Many times.

3). If you had to pick a female to be stuck with during the World War Z, who would it be? Hands down – Maria Molina from Fox News. I’m not even going to discuss or argue with you over this. It is what it is.

maria molina three

Sigh.

4). What are you grateful for in the present? Like it’s one year into Zombieland, you’re behind a barricade. What are you missing? I’m missing the smell of cinnamon, conversation with several close friends, anything written by James Altucher, a triple-cheeseburger from Red Robin. Live in the now. Step back and consider the texture, smell, presence of what/who you appreciate. I think I’ll have a milkshake today.

5). What would be your last words in the case (it’s inevitable) you become a buffet item at a zombie Golden Corral? I was thinking something funny like “I hope you die from all the fat you’re eating,” or just an “oh shit!” I need to work on this one. What would be your last words if you knew you were going to die today? The words you use will shape the reasons you’re still alive.

You’re not dead.

You’re not zombie chow.

Act every day like the dead are coming and you’ll live more than ever before.

zombie lady