Saturday, October 16, 2010
Hole in the Pavement
Monday, October 4, 2010
The River Beneath the Real
The Impact of Children on Neighborhood Interactions
I wrote this little exercise in applied sociology a couple of years ago.
A friend pointed out that we need not wait for an economic crash before we can have intentional neighborhood. This is true; I was just pointing out that intentional relationships within a neighborhood setting will be much more likely when people have an economic incentive to do so. And sometimes a 2x4 upside the head is the best convincer.
Speaking of neighborhood, I am reminded of a little story. Twenty years ago I knew some people in Gila, NM (north of Silver City) who had originally started out with the Lama Foundation in northern New Mexico. I asked one of the residents if they, like, you know, had a community or something. She said no, they were just trying to learn how to be good neighbors. Her answer stuck with me. I think they were the first intentional neighborhood I had ever heard about.
We’ve had a little intentional neighborhood out here in Radium Springs for the past 15 years or so: some friends, who are sustainability-oriented like we are, moved onto my parents’ land to the north of us after my father died and my mother moved into town. I pulled some strings with my mother to get my friends terms they could afford. But I have found, over the years, that two families are too few to be considered a "neighborhood." Good neighbors, yes. But the critical mass simply isn’t there for anything more.
In addition to these next-door neighbors (who live nearly ½ mile away – isn’t country life wonderful?), Laura and I have three other neighbor families who live a bit closer. We have nothing in common with them philosophically or demographically. We live far enough apart that we can easily ignore each other, so we do.
But during the 90s we all had children who played together, and as a result, we parents interacted a lot more then than we do now. These days, we interact very seldom.
I noticed one interesting thing about the two children of one family, who were considerably older than our son Neil. I noticed that older children can successfully play with a much younger child: it was fascinating watching a 13-year-old play with a 3-year old. But shortly after the onset of puberty, that behavior stopped. As soon as the pubescent child became sexually aware of his/her peers, young children were no longer considered suitable playmates. They became "uncool." This is all no doubt totally obvious, but I had never seen it played out so up close and personal before.
The children of another one of the families were much more problematic. When I saw them sniffing gasoline in my yard one day, I knew they were problem kids. Laura and I figured that maybe treating them in a decent manner, like human beings, would help. But this didn’t have the desired effect, as it turned out.
First, the boy stole my .22 rifle, no doubt because he was Neil’s playmate and had access to our house. The temptation was evidently too much for him to resist. His father discovered the rifle and let me know. Laura and I decided that verbal reprimands and cautionary warnings were enough from us, though the father undoubtedly used a much more physical approach with his son.
But a year later, when these neighbor kids knew we were going to be out of town for the weekend, they broke into our honey house by tearing out the screen and climbing through a window. The only thing missing was a bottle of Everclear (pure grain alcohol) that we used for making propolis tincture. They also broke a window in Neil’s bedroom trying to jimmy it open, killed a number of baby chicks, set part of our pasture on fire playing with gopher gassers, and emptied an entire tube of caulk onto our dog. We called the sheriff’s office, who sent out a crime unit. As it turned out, the boy had stepped on a piece of paper on the counter when he climbed through the window, leaving a perfect shoe print. We already knew who did the crime, so we pointed the deputies in the right direction. The boy’s shoe matched the shoe print perfectly, of course.
We decided to let the criminal justice system play itself out in this case. We noticed right away that we, the victims, were totally ignored by the process. In fact, a victim advocate told us outright, "Don’t expect justice from the criminal justice system." In the end, the kids were given a reprimand because they didn’t have a criminal record, because we hadn’t reported the theft of our rifle.
(The father, an honorable man, paid us for the damage his kids had done.)
I’m saying all this to point out that this neighbor business is not all sweetness and light. I’m sure everybody agrees that neighbors can sometimes be a real pain in the ass, and that in many cases a neutral relationship is as good as it’s ever going to get. There’s a lot more to intentional neighborhood than sheer proximity. Often, the neighbors are simply unsuitable for a closer relationship. But like I said, a severe economic downturn might make it mutually advantageous for neighbors to set their differences aside and work more closely together.
We were a bit closer to one of the three families in our immediate vicinity. Laura and the teenaged daughter became friends, and Laura did some house-sitting for them on several occasions. The neighbors swapped money and use of their pool in exchange for feeding their chickens and horses when they went on vacation. In this case, even though we had little in common with the parents culturally, politically, or on a chemistry level, we managed to have a very decent relationship. It’s not necessary to be friends to be good neighbors.
As it turned out, any interactions between the parents in our unintentional neighborhood totally depended on our kids playing together. As the kids grew up and developed more separate interests, play activity tapered off and eventually stopped, and interactions between the parents became rare.
Today, the father of one of the families still buys honey from us from time to time, and we sometimes have brief conversations with him when he passes our house when he’s out taking his exercise walk. But that’s it. The second family, we talked briefly when there was an auto accident in front of their house a year or so ago, but that’s it. The third family, I had words with the father (we have a surprisingly good relationship, such as it is) when his wolf-dog killed my chickens (as usual, he paid us for the damage), but that’s it. This is fairly typical for an American non-intentional neighborhood out in the country, I suspect.
One interesting fact: when we experienced our Great Flood of ’06, not one of the three families even acknowledged that it had happened. Total denial. I think our status as flood victims made them uncomfortable. Denial of the flood allowed them to deny their indifference to our plight.
With the exception of our neighbors to the north, it’s hard to imagine intentional neighborhood ever happening here with the neighbors we now have, no matter how bad the economy may get. But you never know: maybe some new neighbors will move in and we’ll have a little renaissance right here in Selden Canyon. Time will tell.
A friend pointed out that we need not wait for an economic crash before we can have intentional neighborhood. This is true; I was just pointing out that intentional relationships within a neighborhood setting will be much more likely when people have an economic incentive to do so. And sometimes a 2x4 upside the head is the best convincer.
Speaking of neighborhood, I am reminded of a little story. Twenty years ago I knew some people in Gila, NM (north of Silver City) who had originally started out with the Lama Foundation in northern New Mexico. I asked one of the residents if they, like, you know, had a community or something. She said no, they were just trying to learn how to be good neighbors. Her answer stuck with me. I think they were the first intentional neighborhood I had ever heard about.
We’ve had a little intentional neighborhood out here in Radium Springs for the past 15 years or so: some friends, who are sustainability-oriented like we are, moved onto my parents’ land to the north of us after my father died and my mother moved into town. I pulled some strings with my mother to get my friends terms they could afford. But I have found, over the years, that two families are too few to be considered a "neighborhood." Good neighbors, yes. But the critical mass simply isn’t there for anything more.
In addition to these next-door neighbors (who live nearly ½ mile away – isn’t country life wonderful?), Laura and I have three other neighbor families who live a bit closer. We have nothing in common with them philosophically or demographically. We live far enough apart that we can easily ignore each other, so we do.
But during the 90s we all had children who played together, and as a result, we parents interacted a lot more then than we do now. These days, we interact very seldom.
I noticed one interesting thing about the two children of one family, who were considerably older than our son Neil. I noticed that older children can successfully play with a much younger child: it was fascinating watching a 13-year-old play with a 3-year old. But shortly after the onset of puberty, that behavior stopped. As soon as the pubescent child became sexually aware of his/her peers, young children were no longer considered suitable playmates. They became "uncool." This is all no doubt totally obvious, but I had never seen it played out so up close and personal before.
The children of another one of the families were much more problematic. When I saw them sniffing gasoline in my yard one day, I knew they were problem kids. Laura and I figured that maybe treating them in a decent manner, like human beings, would help. But this didn’t have the desired effect, as it turned out.
First, the boy stole my .22 rifle, no doubt because he was Neil’s playmate and had access to our house. The temptation was evidently too much for him to resist. His father discovered the rifle and let me know. Laura and I decided that verbal reprimands and cautionary warnings were enough from us, though the father undoubtedly used a much more physical approach with his son.
But a year later, when these neighbor kids knew we were going to be out of town for the weekend, they broke into our honey house by tearing out the screen and climbing through a window. The only thing missing was a bottle of Everclear (pure grain alcohol) that we used for making propolis tincture. They also broke a window in Neil’s bedroom trying to jimmy it open, killed a number of baby chicks, set part of our pasture on fire playing with gopher gassers, and emptied an entire tube of caulk onto our dog. We called the sheriff’s office, who sent out a crime unit. As it turned out, the boy had stepped on a piece of paper on the counter when he climbed through the window, leaving a perfect shoe print. We already knew who did the crime, so we pointed the deputies in the right direction. The boy’s shoe matched the shoe print perfectly, of course.
We decided to let the criminal justice system play itself out in this case. We noticed right away that we, the victims, were totally ignored by the process. In fact, a victim advocate told us outright, "Don’t expect justice from the criminal justice system." In the end, the kids were given a reprimand because they didn’t have a criminal record, because we hadn’t reported the theft of our rifle.
(The father, an honorable man, paid us for the damage his kids had done.)
I’m saying all this to point out that this neighbor business is not all sweetness and light. I’m sure everybody agrees that neighbors can sometimes be a real pain in the ass, and that in many cases a neutral relationship is as good as it’s ever going to get. There’s a lot more to intentional neighborhood than sheer proximity. Often, the neighbors are simply unsuitable for a closer relationship. But like I said, a severe economic downturn might make it mutually advantageous for neighbors to set their differences aside and work more closely together.
We were a bit closer to one of the three families in our immediate vicinity. Laura and the teenaged daughter became friends, and Laura did some house-sitting for them on several occasions. The neighbors swapped money and use of their pool in exchange for feeding their chickens and horses when they went on vacation. In this case, even though we had little in common with the parents culturally, politically, or on a chemistry level, we managed to have a very decent relationship. It’s not necessary to be friends to be good neighbors.
As it turned out, any interactions between the parents in our unintentional neighborhood totally depended on our kids playing together. As the kids grew up and developed more separate interests, play activity tapered off and eventually stopped, and interactions between the parents became rare.
Today, the father of one of the families still buys honey from us from time to time, and we sometimes have brief conversations with him when he passes our house when he’s out taking his exercise walk. But that’s it. The second family, we talked briefly when there was an auto accident in front of their house a year or so ago, but that’s it. The third family, I had words with the father (we have a surprisingly good relationship, such as it is) when his wolf-dog killed my chickens (as usual, he paid us for the damage), but that’s it. This is fairly typical for an American non-intentional neighborhood out in the country, I suspect.
One interesting fact: when we experienced our Great Flood of ’06, not one of the three families even acknowledged that it had happened. Total denial. I think our status as flood victims made them uncomfortable. Denial of the flood allowed them to deny their indifference to our plight.
With the exception of our neighbors to the north, it’s hard to imagine intentional neighborhood ever happening here with the neighbors we now have, no matter how bad the economy may get. But you never know: maybe some new neighbors will move in and we’ll have a little renaissance right here in Selden Canyon. Time will tell.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Good Stuff
Another unposted essay, without a real ending, evidently written a couple of years ago.
After a lifetime of living with myself, I’ve learned to identify the Good Stuff when it comes. Hot from the Muse. Or as my Inner Scientist would say, "a clear expression of the automatic synthesis function in my brain." Whatever. "When you’re hot, you’re hot; when you’re not, you’re not." Who was it that said that?
There is so much I have inside -- bursting, or usually, not bursting to get out. I have this thing about wanting to produce finished essays, which requires a lot of work. A lot of editing. The final product is worth it (but is it really, considering how small the audience is?), but sometimes I wish I would just spew a little off the top of my head every day. That’s what Laura wants, after all. "Just write," she says.
I want to write an essay entitled: "Stranger In A Strange Land: Confessions of a Mysterian." Because that’s what I am. After 62 years on this planet, I am finally able to articulate that truth. I’m not a Mystic; I’m a Mysterian. And I’ll bet plenty of other people are, too. Or at least a few people.
In my Grassroots Press column last spring, I talked a bit about mysticism, and promised to "muck about in that realm." I did, in my way, and I learned a thing or two. For one, I learned that I’m not a mystic. Mystics believe, absolutely and literally, that space/time reality is an illusion. As a scientist, that’s a mighty big pill for me to swallow. As a mysterian, I’m not inclined to dispute what the mystics are saying. I would just tug on their robes and say, "Some mystics say the best teaching is done in the silence. If so, why don’t you just shut the fuck up and teach from the silence, then? Let the few who can be taught that way be taught. Sure, I realize that by speaking about Illusion you are Hammering the Darkness in a creative way (or so it must seem to you), but sometimes I wish you mystics would stop writing so many books, stop giving so many lectures, and just blast us with your pure, exalted PRESENCE, dig? We’re already drowning in words as it is."
Or words to that effect.
Last spring, while in the throes of the whole Eckhart Tolle/Oprah thing (which released a lot of energy into the world), I was sitting in my chair doing a noonish meditation with Laura, and thinking (as I am wont to do when meditating)... but this time, rather than idle monkeymind chatter, I was pondering on the whole deal about Consciousness, which is to say, Myself, which is to say, me sitting there meditating, I was pondering about Consciousness not being constrained by space/time reality. Consciousness is not "outside" space/time reality, it’s not located "somewhere else," it’s just that the concept of "location" doesn’t apply to consciousness. This line of thinking triggered a subtle little shift within me that I immediately noticed. That "extra buzz" as I call it in my casual way. No big deal, really, but definitely there.
I went to bed as usual that evening, and about 2 AM I woke up as I often do... to pee or whatever. But when I woke up, whoa baby, I woke up into it, if you know what I mean. It was like the consciousness aspect of my total awareness package had been ramped up by a factor of ten and the monkeymind chatter, while still there occasionally, had been toned down by a factor of ten. Now there’s a balance I can live with! Peace that passeth understanding and all that. I spent a couple of hours (or so it seemed) basically just enjoying and appreciating the experience (which seemed very familiar somehow). I went outside and looked at the stars. Or more accurately, just was with the stars. No merging with the Godhead (I’m not a mystic, afterall), just infinite peace. I lay back down and wondered if I could learn anything from this enhanced bubble of consciousness I was presently inhabiting. Question One: Is there anything inherent within this experience to imply that Consciousness, which is to say, "I," am not limited to space/time reality? Question Two: Is there anything inherent within this experience to imply that consciousness is immortal, and that, therefore, "I" am immortal? The conclusion, or so it seemed to me at the time, was that maybe if I was able to spend more time within this state, I would be better able to answer these questions (if they indeed have answers), and that the state I was presently in is where spiritual growth BEGINS. Hokay then. So I’m not really very spiritual. I already knew that.
A couple of months later I remembered that I used to occasionally have this exact same experience when I was in high school. No wonder it all seemed so familiar! I would be lying in bed waiting to fall asleep and it would just happen. Existence would become transcendentally pure and crystalline. (Even more than usual!) Nothing would change except for the quality of my experience. I remember once a mockingbird sitting on the TV antenna outside the house singing at midnight and I just went outside to get closer to the bird music. I also remember sometimes feeling slightly frustrated by a sense that there should, somehow, be MORE. More what, I had no idea. Maybe sending my mind through the ether or something.
After a lifetime of living with myself, I’ve learned to identify the Good Stuff when it comes. Hot from the Muse. Or as my Inner Scientist would say, "a clear expression of the automatic synthesis function in my brain." Whatever. "When you’re hot, you’re hot; when you’re not, you’re not." Who was it that said that?
There is so much I have inside -- bursting, or usually, not bursting to get out. I have this thing about wanting to produce finished essays, which requires a lot of work. A lot of editing. The final product is worth it (but is it really, considering how small the audience is?), but sometimes I wish I would just spew a little off the top of my head every day. That’s what Laura wants, after all. "Just write," she says.
I want to write an essay entitled: "Stranger In A Strange Land: Confessions of a Mysterian." Because that’s what I am. After 62 years on this planet, I am finally able to articulate that truth. I’m not a Mystic; I’m a Mysterian. And I’ll bet plenty of other people are, too. Or at least a few people.
In my Grassroots Press column last spring, I talked a bit about mysticism, and promised to "muck about in that realm." I did, in my way, and I learned a thing or two. For one, I learned that I’m not a mystic. Mystics believe, absolutely and literally, that space/time reality is an illusion. As a scientist, that’s a mighty big pill for me to swallow. As a mysterian, I’m not inclined to dispute what the mystics are saying. I would just tug on their robes and say, "Some mystics say the best teaching is done in the silence. If so, why don’t you just shut the fuck up and teach from the silence, then? Let the few who can be taught that way be taught. Sure, I realize that by speaking about Illusion you are Hammering the Darkness in a creative way (or so it must seem to you), but sometimes I wish you mystics would stop writing so many books, stop giving so many lectures, and just blast us with your pure, exalted PRESENCE, dig? We’re already drowning in words as it is."
Or words to that effect.
Last spring, while in the throes of the whole Eckhart Tolle/Oprah thing (which released a lot of energy into the world), I was sitting in my chair doing a noonish meditation with Laura, and thinking (as I am wont to do when meditating)... but this time, rather than idle monkeymind chatter, I was pondering on the whole deal about Consciousness, which is to say, Myself, which is to say, me sitting there meditating, I was pondering about Consciousness not being constrained by space/time reality. Consciousness is not "outside" space/time reality, it’s not located "somewhere else," it’s just that the concept of "location" doesn’t apply to consciousness. This line of thinking triggered a subtle little shift within me that I immediately noticed. That "extra buzz" as I call it in my casual way. No big deal, really, but definitely there.
I went to bed as usual that evening, and about 2 AM I woke up as I often do... to pee or whatever. But when I woke up, whoa baby, I woke up into it, if you know what I mean. It was like the consciousness aspect of my total awareness package had been ramped up by a factor of ten and the monkeymind chatter, while still there occasionally, had been toned down by a factor of ten. Now there’s a balance I can live with! Peace that passeth understanding and all that. I spent a couple of hours (or so it seemed) basically just enjoying and appreciating the experience (which seemed very familiar somehow). I went outside and looked at the stars. Or more accurately, just was with the stars. No merging with the Godhead (I’m not a mystic, afterall), just infinite peace. I lay back down and wondered if I could learn anything from this enhanced bubble of consciousness I was presently inhabiting. Question One: Is there anything inherent within this experience to imply that Consciousness, which is to say, "I," am not limited to space/time reality? Question Two: Is there anything inherent within this experience to imply that consciousness is immortal, and that, therefore, "I" am immortal? The conclusion, or so it seemed to me at the time, was that maybe if I was able to spend more time within this state, I would be better able to answer these questions (if they indeed have answers), and that the state I was presently in is where spiritual growth BEGINS. Hokay then. So I’m not really very spiritual. I already knew that.
A couple of months later I remembered that I used to occasionally have this exact same experience when I was in high school. No wonder it all seemed so familiar! I would be lying in bed waiting to fall asleep and it would just happen. Existence would become transcendentally pure and crystalline. (Even more than usual!) Nothing would change except for the quality of my experience. I remember once a mockingbird sitting on the TV antenna outside the house singing at midnight and I just went outside to get closer to the bird music. I also remember sometimes feeling slightly frustrated by a sense that there should, somehow, be MORE. More what, I had no idea. Maybe sending my mind through the ether or something.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Getting Out From Under
Evidently I never posted this one. At least, there are no posts with this title in the New Earth Times archives. And it lacks a proper ending, which implies that I never posted it. To be able to post stuff like this is exactly why I started the "overflow" blog. It looks like I wrote this a year or so ago.
The Economic Crash (which has just barely begun, by the way) has done wonders for my self-confidence. You see, I’ve been expecting the Crash for the past 40 years now. Back in the late 1960s I realized that a crash was the only possible outcome of America’s oligarchic system of capitalistic idiocy. During the 1990s and early 2000s I pretty much lost faith in my vision, but not quite. I realized that the "prosperity" we were experiencing was artificially induced, and that it couldn’t last, but it seemed at the time that it would last forever. The relatively minor Crash we’ve experienced so far has validated what I’ve always known, and gives me confidence to start predicting the future in a serious way. But before I do, I’d like to talk about the steps I’ve taken to get out from under the crash I always knew was coming.
The keystone of my entire strategy is owning my own land, free and clear. In other words, actually owning the land, not merely the mortgage on it. As an adjunct to this, I have avoided all debt and interest payments. In interest payments alone, I’ve saved hundreds of thousands of dollars compared to most of my contemporaries.
I read in a blog somewhere that nobody actually owns their real estate, because the government has a permanent lien on it. This isn’t true, is unnecessarily alarmist anti-government propaganda, and is sour grapes to boot. To be sure, your property can be auctioned away if you are clueless enough not to pay your property taxes for enough years in a row. And of course, we could hypothesize an evil government that would purposely raise property taxes so high that it could confiscate everybody’s real estate. But in the past, present, and realistically foreseeable future, property taxes are a minor part of a landowner’s total annual expenses, and are easily budgeted for.
I have been to several tax auctions in Dona Ana County, and have dealt face-to-face with the tax auction crew that comes down periodically from Santa Fe to auction off tax-delinquent property. These people are anxious not to auction off peoples’ property. If a property owner so much as belches in their direction, they will immediately cancel the auction of that particular parcel and work out the details with the property owner later. I have never seen so much bending over backwards in my life. The reason for this, basically, is that private property rights are a religion in this country. It’s a religion I agree with, and most people agree with, regardless of political persuasion.
If we ever have a government that can confiscate people’s property at will, and the populace hasn’t risen up in revolt, then we will deserve what we get. This is one circumstance where I would stand shoulder-to-shoulder in solidarity with all my neighbors, regardless of political philosophy.
Forty years ago, my thinking went like this: "I’ve got to occupy space on this planet, so why should I have to pay somebody else for the privilege?" I was always a young rebel in that and many other respects. I realized that free-and-clear ownership of my own land was the only way to avoid paying either rent or mortgage payments. (Sure, I could have become a nomad, but that didn’t appeal to me.)
When my employer, New Mexico State University, fired me from my astronomy job because I had put out the campus underground newspaper, the American Civil Liberties Union sued them on my behalf. I had a strong case, and the University offered to settle out-of-court. When I collected my settlement, there was no doubt what I was going to do: I bought land. Paid cash. Owned it outright. But if this option hadn’t been open to me, if I had no choice but to scrape together a down payment and start paying off a mortgage, my highest priority would have been paying that mortgage off as quickly as possible. "Faith" is not my middle name; neither is "Trust." Since I saw a crash coming (though it turned out to be a long way off), I wouldn’t have assumed that I could pay off a mortgage in the usual leisurely way. I would have scrimped and saved and paid it off post-haste.
Also, I’m a cheapskate. To my way of thinking, interest is money down the drain. I hate to waste my hard-earned money that way. I have remained totally debt-free all these years, holding to a pay-as-you-go policy. I started out very poor, making approximately $500 a year (in early 70s dollars). I did without a lot of things. If I didn’t have the money, that was that. I slowly bootstrapped my way up, making two steps forward and one step back. It wasn’t till the mid 90s that I finally accumulated enough savings that they didn’t quickly evaporate. Since then I’ve enjoyed the benefits of wise money management – no debt, no interest payments, and enough savings to even out the ebb and flow of a variable income. I’m able to live comfortably on what by mainstream standards is a very ordinary income.
Of course the economy is crooked. Of course it’s run for the benefit of idiot criminal parasites. Of course Congress is corrupt. Of course most Americans will end up as serfs. Well duh, that’s why I got out from under in the first place! (Though of course if government becomes as authoritarian is it well could, or if law and order breaks down, if gangs of thugs or jack-booted storm troopers roam the streets, all bets are off. All my best-laid plans (and yours) are but a bullet away from termination if the shit ever hits the fan bad enough.)
Despite all the crimes of the corrupt banksters and their government enablers, people need to take a little responsibility for their financial plight. "You made your bed, now lie in it." Sure, there are plenty of people who’ve been bankrupted by medical expenses or other tragedies, and there but for the grace of God go you and I. But all things being equal, one thing we’re witnessing right now is the sifting out of the wise money managers from the poor money managers. The Ants from the Grasshoppers.
Up until now, at least, people have always had a choice: Do I go to Disney World, or do I make an extra house payment? Do I pay down my mortgage, or do I refinance my home so I can put that new swimming pool in the back yard? Do I buy that new car I really don’t absolutely need? Do I put the new wide-screen TV on my credit card? People need to take a good hard look at their behavior, and the consequences thereof. In most cases, we get what we deserve. This is in no way meant to condone the actions of the criminals of high finance who have devastated our economy, but people need to wake up to the fact that we reap what we sow. Cause-effect relationships are real. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. What goes around comes around.
And what if the economy doesn’t tank totally? Well then, you’ve paid off your mortgage, you don’t have that pesky bill to pay every month, and you can take that vacation to Disney World you’ve always dreamed of. Not being an interest slave confers many advantages.
The Economic Crash (which has just barely begun, by the way) has done wonders for my self-confidence. You see, I’ve been expecting the Crash for the past 40 years now. Back in the late 1960s I realized that a crash was the only possible outcome of America’s oligarchic system of capitalistic idiocy. During the 1990s and early 2000s I pretty much lost faith in my vision, but not quite. I realized that the "prosperity" we were experiencing was artificially induced, and that it couldn’t last, but it seemed at the time that it would last forever. The relatively minor Crash we’ve experienced so far has validated what I’ve always known, and gives me confidence to start predicting the future in a serious way. But before I do, I’d like to talk about the steps I’ve taken to get out from under the crash I always knew was coming.
The keystone of my entire strategy is owning my own land, free and clear. In other words, actually owning the land, not merely the mortgage on it. As an adjunct to this, I have avoided all debt and interest payments. In interest payments alone, I’ve saved hundreds of thousands of dollars compared to most of my contemporaries.
I read in a blog somewhere that nobody actually owns their real estate, because the government has a permanent lien on it. This isn’t true, is unnecessarily alarmist anti-government propaganda, and is sour grapes to boot. To be sure, your property can be auctioned away if you are clueless enough not to pay your property taxes for enough years in a row. And of course, we could hypothesize an evil government that would purposely raise property taxes so high that it could confiscate everybody’s real estate. But in the past, present, and realistically foreseeable future, property taxes are a minor part of a landowner’s total annual expenses, and are easily budgeted for.
I have been to several tax auctions in Dona Ana County, and have dealt face-to-face with the tax auction crew that comes down periodically from Santa Fe to auction off tax-delinquent property. These people are anxious not to auction off peoples’ property. If a property owner so much as belches in their direction, they will immediately cancel the auction of that particular parcel and work out the details with the property owner later. I have never seen so much bending over backwards in my life. The reason for this, basically, is that private property rights are a religion in this country. It’s a religion I agree with, and most people agree with, regardless of political persuasion.
If we ever have a government that can confiscate people’s property at will, and the populace hasn’t risen up in revolt, then we will deserve what we get. This is one circumstance where I would stand shoulder-to-shoulder in solidarity with all my neighbors, regardless of political philosophy.
Forty years ago, my thinking went like this: "I’ve got to occupy space on this planet, so why should I have to pay somebody else for the privilege?" I was always a young rebel in that and many other respects. I realized that free-and-clear ownership of my own land was the only way to avoid paying either rent or mortgage payments. (Sure, I could have become a nomad, but that didn’t appeal to me.)
When my employer, New Mexico State University, fired me from my astronomy job because I had put out the campus underground newspaper, the American Civil Liberties Union sued them on my behalf. I had a strong case, and the University offered to settle out-of-court. When I collected my settlement, there was no doubt what I was going to do: I bought land. Paid cash. Owned it outright. But if this option hadn’t been open to me, if I had no choice but to scrape together a down payment and start paying off a mortgage, my highest priority would have been paying that mortgage off as quickly as possible. "Faith" is not my middle name; neither is "Trust." Since I saw a crash coming (though it turned out to be a long way off), I wouldn’t have assumed that I could pay off a mortgage in the usual leisurely way. I would have scrimped and saved and paid it off post-haste.
Also, I’m a cheapskate. To my way of thinking, interest is money down the drain. I hate to waste my hard-earned money that way. I have remained totally debt-free all these years, holding to a pay-as-you-go policy. I started out very poor, making approximately $500 a year (in early 70s dollars). I did without a lot of things. If I didn’t have the money, that was that. I slowly bootstrapped my way up, making two steps forward and one step back. It wasn’t till the mid 90s that I finally accumulated enough savings that they didn’t quickly evaporate. Since then I’ve enjoyed the benefits of wise money management – no debt, no interest payments, and enough savings to even out the ebb and flow of a variable income. I’m able to live comfortably on what by mainstream standards is a very ordinary income.
Of course the economy is crooked. Of course it’s run for the benefit of idiot criminal parasites. Of course Congress is corrupt. Of course most Americans will end up as serfs. Well duh, that’s why I got out from under in the first place! (Though of course if government becomes as authoritarian is it well could, or if law and order breaks down, if gangs of thugs or jack-booted storm troopers roam the streets, all bets are off. All my best-laid plans (and yours) are but a bullet away from termination if the shit ever hits the fan bad enough.)
Despite all the crimes of the corrupt banksters and their government enablers, people need to take a little responsibility for their financial plight. "You made your bed, now lie in it." Sure, there are plenty of people who’ve been bankrupted by medical expenses or other tragedies, and there but for the grace of God go you and I. But all things being equal, one thing we’re witnessing right now is the sifting out of the wise money managers from the poor money managers. The Ants from the Grasshoppers.
Up until now, at least, people have always had a choice: Do I go to Disney World, or do I make an extra house payment? Do I pay down my mortgage, or do I refinance my home so I can put that new swimming pool in the back yard? Do I buy that new car I really don’t absolutely need? Do I put the new wide-screen TV on my credit card? People need to take a good hard look at their behavior, and the consequences thereof. In most cases, we get what we deserve. This is in no way meant to condone the actions of the criminals of high finance who have devastated our economy, but people need to wake up to the fact that we reap what we sow. Cause-effect relationships are real. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. What goes around comes around.
And what if the economy doesn’t tank totally? Well then, you’ve paid off your mortgage, you don’t have that pesky bill to pay every month, and you can take that vacation to Disney World you’ve always dreamed of. Not being an interest slave confers many advantages.
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