As I mentioned in one of my first posts, one of the reasons that Robin and I are maintaining our website and our blog is to have a forum to share some of the things that we’ve learned along the way that enabled us to make an early exit from the rat race. Another thing we want to share is our realization that LIFE IS SHORT, and our desire to make the most of the next (last) stage of our lives, The Back Nine. Robin is pretty much in charge of sharing her commitment and love for maintaining a household, her love for our family and for the friendships that are so important to her. On the other hand, I am the numbers guy.
There’s a reason for that.
One of the things that I learned early and often in my childhood is that if you’re not wealthy, and my family sure as hell was not, then you made the most of what you had and didn’t waste. We were Mormons, and we as a family followed the rules and guidance of the Church (okay, maybe I, as kind of a rebellious youth didn’t completely toe the line). One part of Mormon doctrine instructed all members to have two year’s supply of food, and by God we did.
My Dad would probably have had a good career in the grocery business based on his meticulous management of our food storage inventory. My Mom was likely the best ‘canner’ in Bountiful, Utah, and through the year ‘put up’ jars and jars of whatever happened to be in season, jam, jelly, pickles, peaches, applesauce, the list goes on. Our food storage was crazy, a freezer that got restocked with a side of beef each year, canned goods (constantly rotated by expiration date) like there was no tomorrow, powdered milk, water, and barrels of wheat. We were good on the two year thing, probably good on four years.
There are a couple of takeaways from the ‘food storage story,’ one is a commitment to preparing for the future and the unknown, not just living in the present, the other has to do with the discipline required to stick to a plan.
But going back to not being wealthy, my parents shopped for all of the packaged food storage stuff at a discount grocery store in Bountiful called Winegars, and I hated going there with them. It was basically the poor man’s version of Costco back in the day, except literally this was where the poor people shopped. It was a little like WinCo, except worse. Not where any teenage kid trying to be cool would want to be spotted, but that’s where we could afford to shop and like it or not I was there to pack cases of canned green beans and corn out to the car and then to our storage room.
Also like it or not, I learned that we were going to live within our means, and my old man didn’t give a crap if I didn’t feel comfortable where we shopped. We paid our bills on time, my Mom bought all of our clothes on layaway at a store called Keith O’Brien, and I didn’t go without a single necessity.
This post kind of veered from where I thought it was going, but I did want to share one more thing. When Ty’s mom and I got divorced I was left with some credit card debt, a mortgage, and an auto loan for the only new vehicle that I’ve ever purchased, a 1997 Ford F-150 that was three years old at the time we divorced. I bought the F-150, also known as the ‘Green Machine,’ on impulse, I used to drive by the Ford dealer in Bountiful every day on the way to and from work, and one day I just stopped and traded in my 1990 Bronco II for what at the time was the coolest pickup on the planet. I don’t recommend that anyone buy anything that costs more than $500 on impulse, but I did it, and I had buyer’s remorse and a truck payment.
Post-divorce I was pretty damn strapped for cash due to child support for both Ty and Will, the truck loan, and my little house (850 square feet on the main floor), but I was gonna make things work. I took out a loan from my 401k, which ‘experts’ tell you not to do but that’s bullshit advice in many situations. I paid off the truck and the credit card debt with the loan, and I made a budget for my expenses. I continued to contribute to my 401k, I paid my bills faithfully each month, and a couple of times I went to Scotland to play golf with my buddies (it’s all about budgeting and saving). I will throw out that things were so tight that one time I paid my mortgage a day late and got hit with a late fee for $40 that literally meant that I ate only ramen noodles, egg salad sandwiches and mac and cheese (store brand) for the next month.
Fifty-nine months after I got it, the 401k loan was paid off. I owned a truck, I had no credit card debt, and life was good (primarily because that’s about the same time that I started seeing Robin). The truck was my only vehicle from 1996 to 2009 and because of that I was able to max out my 401k contributions and put money into other savings and investment accounts as well. I am not trying to brag about what I was able to do, well maybe I’ll brag about Robin, but the financial stuff is completely doable by anyone. It’s all about planning and discipline to follow the plan.
That blueprint of making a plan and following it is one of the things that allowed Robin and me to quit our jobs and move to the paradise that is Ivins, Utah. Okay, maybe not paradise (there’s no ocean), but it doesn’t snow, there are a dozen golf courses within a 15 mile radius, and gambling and recreational marijuana are both legal a mere 40 miles away. Sorry, Baby, couldn’t resist.
P.S. The Green Machine survives, it has 294,000 miles and it has faithfully packed our little family and a boatload of furniture and supplies to and from Nevada and southern Utah since Robin and I bought our first place down here. The photo was taken a few months ago at Sand Hollow Golf Resort in Hurricane, Utah (best public course in southern Utah), the roadrunner was in the parking lot.
