On Wealth
Or, how I learned to let go and live a little.
I have a very complicated history with money.
I grew up poor—and I mean really poor.
Like many children who’ve experienced poverty, I knew the constant churn of instability: the evictions, the odd jobs, the moments of scraping by.
My parents often had to move, taking us kids with them when the money ran out or the job did.
From an early age, the message was clear: You need to work.
And so I did.
I picked berries in the fields of the Pacific Northwest.
I worked fast food in high school.
I tried my hand as the classic grocery store bagger.
In college, I worked at the Gap, served as a teacher’s aide in a childcare center, and slung espresso as a barista—which, funnily enough, landed me a job at a great newspaper. But even then, I had a night job too.
For me, it was simple: I had already been poor.
I would make damn sure I wasn’t poor again.
Work. Work. Work.
When It All Fell Apart
Eventually, that mindset—while noble in intention—broke something in me.
I became so focused on having money and making money that I forgot what truly mattered.
People.
Experiences.
Time together.
Divorce is rarely a good thing, but it can be a transformative one—if you let it.
I didn’t.
Even after that seismic shift, I clung to the same routines. Workaholism disguised as discipline. The occasional splurge, meant to prove something to others or maybe even to myself. But I wasn’t present.
Eventually, the people who mattered most… weren’t there anymore.
And that’s when the lesson finally hit home:
It doesn’t matter how much money you have—or how much you spend—if the people you care about are no longer with you.
Fixing the Problem
Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. And life necessitated change.
I couldn’t keep cycling through “save, splurge, repeat.” Something had to give.
One of the most helpful tools in this shift was the 80/20 rule, best articulated by both Dave Ramsey and Senator Elizabeth Warren.
Simply put: Spend 80% of your income on needs and wants.
Save or use the remaining 20% for goals—debt reduction, emergency funds, long-term planning.
It’s become a practical framework I try to live by.
Each month, I give 10% of my income to charity and my local church.
As Bill Perkins notes in Die with Zero:
“First of all, yes, you can certainly leave money to the people and causes you care about—but the truth is that those people and causes would be better off getting your wealth sooner rather than later. Why wait until after you die?”
This mindset—give now, not later—mirrors the Stoic idea of sympatheia: the belief that we are all deeply interconnected, and that mutual support is the foundation of a meaningful life.
I also set aside another 10% between business and personal accounts for rainy days.
And the rest?
It’s called life.
An Early Model
I’ve been reflecting a lot lately. One story keeps returning to me.
Back in the mid-90s, while working at the newspaper, I had a coworker who jumped on last-minute airfare deals every weekend. One week it might be New York, the next Florida. Occasionally, even Europe.
At the time, I thought it was frivolous. A waste.
Now? I wish I’d joined them.
I wish I had used money not as a fortress of safety, but as a vehicle for experience, for connection, for joy.
Because here’s the truth: I’m not taking any of this money with me.
The best use of it is to live fully, now.
Choosing Life
These days, I’ve learned to ask: What will this cost me—not just in dollars, but in experiences delayed, in freedom postponed?
Yes, I’m older. I probably won’t run off to Portugal for a weekend or backpack Patagonia for a month.
But I’m also no longer waiting until retirement to begin living.
That’s a profound shift.
I want to enjoy life in its fullness—now.
The Question
So here’s the question for each of us:
How will you enjoy this one, wild life?
Maybe it’s using some of your savings to learn something new.
Maybe it’s getting that passport and booking a flight to drink Spanish wine and eat tapas…in Spain.
Maybe it’s simply hopping in your car to explore this country’s national parks—America’s great playgrounds.
Whatever your choice, remember the words of Seneca:
“Not one penny can we take with us into the unknown land.”
So let us spend wisely—
Not just in dollars,
But in days.
Let us not defer living for a tomorrow that may never come.
Let us live well—today.