On having too little, too much, and just enough
I鈥檝e often wondered what it would be like to have lots of money 鈥� to spend it willy-nilly, without keeping close track of a checking account or a budget. Enough so that gifts to a host of good causes could flow like warm honey. That was never my fortune, and I鈥檓 glad of it. The most precious times I鈥檝e experienced have been priceless. 聽
I鈥檝e never faced poverty, but I鈥檝e endured lean times, especially during my years on a subsistence-level dairy farm. We kept chickens, too, and had a serve-yourself refrigerator in the barn full of fresh eggs.聽
It was a sweet sight when egg money appeared in the crisper drawer. I鈥檇 nod my thanks to our clucking benefactors sunning in the hen yard and slip the bills in a pocket, already planning where they鈥檇 go.聽
The honor system rarely failed. And if someone needed eggs and couldn鈥檛 pay a dollar a dozen, at least they鈥檇 have an omelet for dinner. Often, so did we.
We bought used farm machinery at auctions and kept spare parts for breakdowns. Whenever gas prices became an issue, we鈥檇 hitch up our draft horses. They worked with a will and needed only refills of hay and grain
Now, years later, I draw on Social Security, a family inheritance, and occasional editing work to live in one of the most expensive countries on the planet. When I moved to Switzerland as a dual U.S.-Swiss citizen in 2020, I found a wonderfully affordable room in an old house with a shared kitchen and hosts I quickly warmed to. The house sat on the edge of some beautiful countryside, complete with a dairy farm. From there, I sampled other accommodations I could afford.
Just a year ago, after four moves to new, temporary quarters, I found an apartment of my own within my means that was only a 15-minute tram ride from central Basel. Public transport on a monthly travel pass is cheaper than owning a car, and that has been a boon.聽
Restaurant meals are exorbitant and a rare treat; with my own kitchen now, I can eat at home, watching for deals at the local grocery. The financial balancing act goes on, so far successfully.
All this brings me back to the dairy-farm years, and particularly to our adopted dog, Alice. She had a fixation for sticks.聽
No sooner was I out the farmhouse door than Alice would run off to find a stick and return to thwap it against my legs, pleading for me to take one end for a proper tug of war. I always complied, often simply to spare my knees.聽
But when we鈥檇 strike out across the pastures for the backwoods, which Alice loved, she鈥檇 eye the sheer abundance of sticks on the forest floor and lose all interest in the game. What鈥檚 the fun of finding a good stick when they were everywhere?聽
I鈥檒l likely never know if I鈥檇 feel the same way about financial fortune. Would I miss the pleasure and challenge of having just enough? I suspect so. And if I were tempted by some economic windfall to engage in a tug of war for even more wealth, I鈥檇 think of Alice.聽
Because she would not understand why I鈥檇 bother.聽
