It doesn't matter if you believe you are fortunate because you are a "doer" or "job creator" from the mind of Ayd Rand, or if you believe God has just blessed you (but not others), or that you had the good foresight to pick a rich father, or that you believe it was simply blind luck or even all of the above. However, reflecting my natural Calvinism, I believe the more fortunate have a responsibility to help the less fortunate, period. With money, of course, but also with more than mere money.
Through good organizations like Rotary and Kiwanis, I've been fortunate to help make repairs to the homes of the elderly, to repaint the abused women's shelter and the homeless center. Once, we spent a day planting dune grass (which was a real back-breaker) to protect the critical sand dunes that protect us. Once a month, we still deliver meals-on-wheels to "shut-ins," which also serves as a monthly reminder that we are indeed blessed.
The vast majority of financial advisors enter the business to make big money. However, some of us see the need to do more and serve the "whole" client by becoming certified. Yesterday, a dozen of us participated in Financial Planning Day, hosted by the City of Virginia Beach at their convention center. It was designed to help the less fortunate who have no access to serious financial planners. I was expecting to meet with the desperately poor and "welfare queens." I was wrong!
Everyone I helped was female, and I saw the other financial planners helping very few men. Just like the stereotyping joke about men not asking for traffic directions, they apparently don't ask for financial direction either. Also, everyone I helped already had a job. They were not the desperately poor, just the working poor, who are seldom welcomed by financial planners or even by financial advisors.
One person was genuinely despondent that she lacked the discipline to save. My first conservative instinct was that her personal problem with self-discipline should not be a problem dropped on taxpayers. Then, I realized she was reaching out for serious help. Nothing in all my financial planning training prepared me for a situation like that. Like an alcoholic who must first admit they have a problem before they can be helped, here was a woman admitting her problem and asking for help. After much discussion, I suggested she start small and put the money where she could not get it, except for emergencies. Because she had complete trust in her mother, she agreed to give her mother $5 weekly to hold for her. I will pray for her.
One 59-year-old woman was remarkably well-prepared financially, showing up with all her bank statements, a rough balance sheet, and tax returns -- a very detail-oriented lady, indeed. She didn't trust financial advisors but still wanted somebody who was both well-trained and impartial to tell her if she was prepared for retirement. With no children, no inheritance, and, importantly, with no divorces, she and her husband were able to save, truly save by practicing self-denial, almost $600 thousand. I was proud of her.
Helping the less fortunate should be more than mere self-serving, sanctimonious, smug "do-gooder-ism." You may recall I recently reviewed the great existential film Ikiru, in which a dying bureaucrat learns that death is just the expiration date for your opportunity to do something good, something with meaning. Amen!
Through good organizations like Rotary and Kiwanis, I've been fortunate to help make repairs to the homes of the elderly, to repaint the abused women's shelter and the homeless center. Once, we spent a day planting dune grass (which was a real back-breaker) to protect the critical sand dunes that protect us. Once a month, we still deliver meals-on-wheels to "shut-ins," which also serves as a monthly reminder that we are indeed blessed.
The vast majority of financial advisors enter the business to make big money. However, some of us see the need to do more and serve the "whole" client by becoming certified. Yesterday, a dozen of us participated in Financial Planning Day, hosted by the City of Virginia Beach at their convention center. It was designed to help the less fortunate who have no access to serious financial planners. I was expecting to meet with the desperately poor and "welfare queens." I was wrong!
Everyone I helped was female, and I saw the other financial planners helping very few men. Just like the stereotyping joke about men not asking for traffic directions, they apparently don't ask for financial direction either. Also, everyone I helped already had a job. They were not the desperately poor, just the working poor, who are seldom welcomed by financial planners or even by financial advisors.
One person was genuinely despondent that she lacked the discipline to save. My first conservative instinct was that her personal problem with self-discipline should not be a problem dropped on taxpayers. Then, I realized she was reaching out for serious help. Nothing in all my financial planning training prepared me for a situation like that. Like an alcoholic who must first admit they have a problem before they can be helped, here was a woman admitting her problem and asking for help. After much discussion, I suggested she start small and put the money where she could not get it, except for emergencies. Because she had complete trust in her mother, she agreed to give her mother $5 weekly to hold for her. I will pray for her.
One 59-year-old woman was remarkably well-prepared financially, showing up with all her bank statements, a rough balance sheet, and tax returns -- a very detail-oriented lady, indeed. She didn't trust financial advisors but still wanted somebody who was both well-trained and impartial to tell her if she was prepared for retirement. With no children, no inheritance, and, importantly, with no divorces, she and her husband were able to save, truly save by practicing self-denial, almost $600 thousand. I was proud of her.
Helping the less fortunate should be more than mere self-serving, sanctimonious, smug "do-gooder-ism." You may recall I recently reviewed the great existential film Ikiru, in which a dying bureaucrat learns that death is just the expiration date for your opportunity to do something good, something with meaning. Amen!
