Checkbook oops

When I left home for college, my parents set me up with a checking account and an American Express charge card. The understanding was that, even though they might send me money on occasion, I would be solely responsible for the two accounts.

Responsible. What a loaded word.

Many of my friends were on the same boat, but they seemed more savvy. Instead of keeping tally on their checkbook, they called their automated teller whenever they wanted to know their balance. I considered adopting this practice until I realized the balance reported was sometimes inaccurate; There was no way for the automated teller to know that a check had been written if it hadn't yet cleared.

While I was busy feeling proud of myself for avoiding this possible disaster, I walked right into another.

Expenses I paid for with my American Express card didn't seem real. Although I kept track of ATM withdrawals and checks written against my account, I didn't pay much attention to the American Express charges I incurred. According to the American Express website: "Unlike Debit and Credit Cards, with an American Express Charge Card you can enjoy no pre-set spending limit and you must repay your full balance at the end of each month giving you total control over your expenses."

No spending limit
+ full balance due at month end
college student without the funds to foot the bill

In my desperation, I found a loophole. My American Express for students card allowed me to defer travel expenses, interest free. That is, the card acted like a miniature loan for travel expenses and a charge card for everything else. Problem solved! The money my parents sent me for buying plane tickets home went directly to paying off my over-budget spending.

This was great! For the next couple of years I overspent, conveniently by about the same amount my parents were sending in plane ticket money. I didn't give much thought to this growing travel debt. So, by the time I accumulated enough curiosity to check the card balance, I was in for a shocker -- it was over $1500. What had I been thinking?

Reality set in around then. By upping my hours at my part-time job during the remainder of that school year, curbing my spending, and saving as much as I could during the following summer internship I was able to eliminate that debt.

Determined to not play the fool twice, I changed the way I balanced my check book. Instead of only keeping track of direct expenses, I began to also keep track of "virtual" expenses.

Description	Real Balance	Virtual Balance
Starting balance	$1000.00	$1000.00
ATM withdrawal	-$40.00	-$40.00
Remaining balance	$960.00	$960.00
LANES membership (Amex)	$0	-$55.00
Remaining balance	$960.00	$905.00

The virtual balance, depicted above, is what I learned to live by. It let me know how much of my "real balance" was available for spending. In other words, even though my "real balance" was $960, if I spent $55 on my card that I had to pay off at the end of the month, $55 of my "real balance" was off limits as it was reserved for that purpose.

Although my checkbook habits have evolved since then, I still live by a virtual balance and recommend it heartily. I believe it's played a major role in steering me clear from debt. Thank goodness for my first checkbook oops -- It led to one of the best lessons I learned in college.

Responsibility 101

Growing up, my sisters and I got a once-a-month allowance from my parents.

Often, as the errand sidekick, I would ride along as my mom or dad drove up to the drive-through teller to deposit their paychecks. This was before the days of the ATM -- my parents carefully calculated how much cash they would need until the next month's pay date. With their receipt came a little, white envelope of crisp bills.

When we got home, my parents would line us all up (in age order, as always) and hand out our month's take.

I don't remember how old I was when my parents started this practice, but I do remember that my sisters got more. I asked my father about it, shortly after realizing this fact. His answer struck me, he did not feel I was responsible enough. Me? Not responsible? Clearly my father didn't know what he was talking about.

Sure, he would sometimes have to remind me to put my money in my wallet instead of just holding it in my hand. Or not to count my money out in the open when I was trying to figure out if I had enough to make a purchase. Or not to leave my wallet lying around unattended.

Of course I was responsible. All these little things were just minor details. Every month that passed where I received less than my siblings, I felt cheated, misunderstood, and under appreciated. I couldn't believe my father couldn't see that I was at least as responsible as my sisters.

Then one month, after what seemed to be many months, my dad called me aside before handing me my allotment. After he explained that he believed it was time for me to demonstrate how responsible I could be, he handed me a full allowance. A full allowance! I was elated!

I was so elated that I went outside to play, ride my bike, and who knows what else -- with this deliverance gripped firmly in my hands. Or so I thought. Who knows how long it took me to realize my hands were empty, but when I did, I began to look around frantically. I looked on the street, under the car, in the grass, between the couch cushions, all the while trying to escape the notice of my father. It was already bad enough to realize he had been right about me before; I didn't want him to know that I had failed his test

My father caught on. He called me aside and explained the ramifications. Since I had demonstrated I wasn't ready yet, he was going to revert me to my original allowance.

Many more months passed. But instead of feeling it wasn't fair each time I received 1/2 the allowance my sisters were given, I remembered that I hadn't been able to demonstrate that I could manage more. Now ultra careful with my money, I hoped he would notice and looked forward to having another shot at showing him I could be responsible.

As frustrating as the experience was, I am grateful for my first chance failure. For one thing, it was my first lesson that I cannot just assume my own competency. More importantly, it helped me realize that I wasn't entitled to to my father's trust and that he wasn't obligated to give it to me.

When my father eventually gave me a second chance, I was able to meet his expectations and earn his trust. Over 20 years later, I still have it and have every intention of keeping it.

DR IVIG

Today, my mother is receiving her first IVIG infusion as a 65 year old. On top of that, this infusion is being administered in Del Rio, where she lives. This time, there is no need for a 7+ hour drive to Houston or a hotel stay!

This is truly something to celebrate. I've written about it before, and talked about it even more -- getting to this point has been no easy task. But we're here. We're here!

Now to see how this iteration goes...

I save like my father

I don't believe my father ever formally sat me down to tell me his thoughts about how to manage one's finances. But, based on what I saw and stories I was told, this is what I gather to be my father's approach to saving:

• Always pay yourself
  
• Pay yourself first
• What you pay yourself should never decrease

When my oldest sister was born, my father sat down with my mother to discuss a plan he had. He would like to set aside a certain amount in CDs every month, just for my sister. My mother agreed it was a great idea, but when it came to his suggestion regarding how much to set aside, she reminded him of their intention to have additional children; Whatever amount they agreed on had to be an amount they could, with certainty, set aside for each child. Being reminded of himself, my father modified his recommendation and they started with 1/2 his original proposal.

My approach to saving is firmly founded on my father's principles. My first paycheck out of college was dissected into two parts -- the part I would spend and the part I would save. But, as eager as I was to save, I made sure to pick a conservative savings target. I knew that if I went overboard with "savings", I may end up dipping into it for bare necessities which would only blur the line between the two parts of my paycheck. Besides, it was important to me that my savings rate be maintainable and have only an upward trajectory.

I'm not sure why this was important to me. Perhaps it's because I grew up thinking it's a smart thing to do. Or because I tend to associate financial stability and independence with personal freedom. Either way, I like that it's at least one tangible way of incorporating my dad into my every day life.

In need of a compass

Or perhaps "In need of the ability to read a compass". Or more aptly, "In need of the motivation to get off my duff and move in the direction the compass is pointing".

A friend once offered me the opportunity to paint his truck. Anything would go -- his truck was one beat up specimen of transportation. No doubt, paint would have helped it stay in one piece a little bit longer.

I thought and thought and thought. Which meant I delayed and delayed and delayed. At some point he confronted me.

"What, are you afraid you're going to do it wrong?"

That hit me pretty hard. Unfortunately, it also hit me a little too late. By the time I gathered up my equipment, my friend had taken off for a pretty extensive trip.

Is it possible to say you've learned a lesson if your actions since the moment of learning don't demonstrate your new knowledge? In theory I know that life isn't about getting it right the first time. When presented with choices, I don't believe only one of the options is the right one. I love this quote of F. Scott Fitzgerald

“Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.”

but feel I am often holding some part of myself back -- tethered to a safe base -- to avoid missing big or having to start over from scratch. It's not intentional. It's not intentional!

I'm beginning to realize I don't have enough imagination to plan my next big adventure. I think I need to just start and see where the road, when it rises to meet me, leads.

Liminality

Today is Christian's graduation ceremony. This calls to mind a speech he gave a couple of years ago about the stacked and recursive nature of liminality. "Stacked" due to the fact that waiting at the finish line of one set of preliminal, liminal, and postliminal phases is a completely new set. "Recursive" because any individual phase could also contain a preliminal, liminal, and postliminal phase.

He used college to explain:

• preliminal -- separating yourself from your every day, deciding to embark
  
• liminal -- taking classes, learning
  
• postliminal -- graduating, integrating back into the world as a changed person

The graduation ceremony, part of the of the postliminal phase of going to college can also be dissected into three phases:

• preliminal -- separating yourself from your every day, donning a gown
  
• liminal -- walking, receiving your diploma
  
• postliminal -- being introduced to the world as a graduate
  

Today was a great example.

Open mindedness

I proudly labeled myself open minded at an early age. As with many of my young peers, each passing year brought new knowledge and understanding. Inevitably, this new vantage would turn my definition of open minded on its head. I would smugly comment on my recently younger self, "Ha! Back then I only thought I was open minded" confidently adding, "But now ... now I actually am."

Rinse. Lather. And repeat.

Although I'm often not intelligent enough to avoid entering into patterns, I can sometimes recognize the patterns I fall into. It took some time for me to recognize this one, and now I know -- I like to think of myself as open minded, but I'm merely a work in progress.

I've come to believe that one's level of open mindedness can be measured by the nature and breadth of stories that cross one's path. As an adult, I find individuals sharing their life beliefs with what appears to be little reservation. However, I have no doubt that what people will be willing to share with me 10 years from now will help me look back and understand how much people are currently holding back.

Stranger to a stranger?

When I walk out into the world among strangers I forget I am an unknown quantity. Although I know how to wear my heart on my sleeve, I don't know how to wear my history or my story.

For one thing, something about the way I look elicits a story about me out of people -- but it's a story that has nothing to do with me. Instead, it has to do with some "exotic" culture that I have no knowledge of.

By looking at me, there's no way one could tell what my relationship with my parents is like. Nor could one tell that I am educated, have a fondness for double entendre, believe at the core people are good, or a number of other things about me.

Despite this, for some reason, I forget that I am just as much a stranger to a stranger as they are to me.

Thank you, Michelle!

Great news -- My mother once again has access to treatment!!

After many months of trying to traverse the confusing world of pharmaceuticals, health care, insurance, and patient advocacy I was able to connect with Nancy Falkman, a Program Director at AccessMed. She, in turn, connected me with Michelle Mainor, a CSL Behring Programs counselor who has worked diligently on my family's behalf. Since July of 2007, Michelle has tried approach after approach demonstrating a great sensitivity to my mother's situation and a determination to help.

Many, many thanks to Michelle for her patience and dedication.

Economics 101

Christian and I went for a bike ride today. Along the way, we stopped at a nearby park where I overheard a father talking to his little boy. When the boy ignored his father's request to not play (stop playing) with a little plastic wagon another little boy had parked behind me, his father responded with:

"Hmm... You want to touch everyone else's things, but you don't want anyone to touch yours. That's quite an economy, son."