The Tycoon Report

Measuring Wealth in More Than Dollars

Thursday, October 15, 2009 | Bob De Dea

As an investor or a trader, your quest is simple: to keep your money, and make even more.

Our investing goals, however, are as different as each of us -- to take care of our families ... to have a dignified retirement ... to be able to see the world ... to get to a place where we feel we can truly enjoy our lives ... and to be in a position to help others.

After so many of our portfolios got burned during the market mayhem of the past two years, it's easy to focus on the negative (i.e., the losses) and feel some disappointment that our goals seem much-further away than we thought they'd be at this point in time.

Particularly when times are tough and we're scrambling to catch up to where we were or to where we thought we'd be, it's easy to feel like a slave to money. And even though most of us have our priorities in order, it's good to remind ourselves from time to time that the quest for wealth -- while important -- is a means to an end, and not necessarily the goal itself.

This brought to mind a story you might have heard, but one that can help to bring things into perspective during tough times. ...

The Parable of the Rich Old Man

Once upon a time, there was a child born in America. He was an only child, raised by parents who had little in the way of money, but much love to share.

Although he had been taught to be selfless, to consider others and their needs, he had little opportunity to practice this as the only child in the household.

While he had been taught that money doesn't bring happiness, he was convinced -- after growing up in poverty -- that it would at least bring the kind of misery that he could live with.

Money Not a Solution, But a Nice Distraction

Once he knew he could think for himself, he started to question the things his parents had taught him.

This man did well in school and started his own business in his 20s. He worked hard, relentlessly, since he found that the more effort you put into something, the more likely you'll be aware and ready when your break comes.

He recognized that, particularly in America, breaks don't come to everyone -- even those who do work hard. He saw that getting ahead was more a matter of chance -- and who you know and where you were raised -- than anybody ever wants to believe.

So, he vowed early in life to make certain he would know the moment to seize when it came to him -- to know the brief moment when the door of opportunity was opened for him alone.

And when it came, he did not hesitate.

Cash-Rich, but Otherwise Poor

He had relationships, but they were transient. He had two wives before he realized that having a wife was something that society expected of him. He could do without the trouble of having to attend to another's needs.

So, he refused to care deeply about anyone. He had friends, but as he grew successful he couldn't be sure that they didn't remain friends because of his success.

In the end, he amassed millions. He had everything he'd ever wanted. Except for the fact that his parents had died on his 30th birthday, life had gone his way.

He continued to build his company, taking advantage of every possible legal loophole, so that his effective tax rate was less than his parents used to pay, when their money was worth a heck of a lot more.

He felt no qualms about this; the loopholes were legal, after all. And what is legal must be considered right and morally justified, he maintained.

Besides, there is little room for morals when it comes to matters of earning, he thought. Anything one step removed from stealing is certainly OK. "And I know best how to spend my money," he thought. "I can help more people than the average Joe."

But he didn't.

He collected. He accumulated. He hoarded his earnings. He grew old. And he lived luxuriously without remorse.

Until the day a child fell asleep on his front porch.

A Hidden Memory

This child was on her own, a 10-year-old wonder of the streets -- a wonder in that she could always find a way to survive the day. Then again, homeless children are easily pitied and often helped. It's only when they grow into adults that we learn to avert our eyes in a well-practiced manner.

She had climbed his fence and made her way unimpeded to the front of his residence. He had a gate and a guard and little other security. He had done nothing to anyone and earned no hostility for his reputation. (Though if his parents had survived, they might have been his harshest judges.)

She was curled in an chaise lounge, her red curls sprawling out from under her cap, when he ventured outside to sit on his porch swing to read the Sunday paper. As he placed his coffee on the side table, he saw her. His astonished cry woke her with a start.

She stood up abruptly. "I meant nothin'. I'll leave now."

"How did you get in here?"

"I meant nothin', sir. I wanted quiet." She bit her lower lip. "I climbed the fence."

"You stay here." He put down the paper and his reading glasses and started back inside.

"You're not callin' the police, are you?" the girl asked.

"I most certainly am," he replied. He stopped to look at her for a moment.

She said nothing.

When he came back out a moment later, she was gone. As he looked around to see whether she'd absconded with anything of his, he instead found something of hers.

Tucked in the corner of the chaise was a tiny bean-bag rabbit. Without a second's warning, his mind took him to his own childhood, when he slept in his crib with a stuffed rabbit made for him by his mother.

He'd forgotten what it was like to be that child. He'd pushed the memories away, forced himself to act only in his own interest, disciplined himself to put thoughts of having his own family aside.

But they all came flooding back.

He collapsed on the chaise, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks, remembering the joy his parents had displayed when they spent time with him. The jubilation they had in simply being his parents. How, for them, family was the most important thing in the whole universe. How their love once filled his heart.

And he sat there for hours, weeping. Considering his loss. And understanding that everything he HAD, everything he possessed, was not really his. In the end, it seemed his family was all he ever really had.

'His Heart Grew 3 Sizes That Day'...

Fortunately for this man and his community, he realized that his wealth was meaningless unless it was put to good use. Even with his advanced years, he became a Big Brother and welcomed children into his life, or what life he had left.

He set up a foundation to help homeless mothers and children. And when he was so sick from an undiagnosed cancer that he had to move into a nursing home, he revised his will to leave the proceeds from the sale of his house and other property to the underprivileged, as he once had been.

This man died without the world knowing who he was or what he had done. But he had made a world of difference.

Just like our goals are as diverse as we are as individuals, no doubt we will all walk away from this parable with different thoughts. The one thing I want us to take away from this is that, no matter what the size of our portfolios, wealth is defined by so much more than dollars. Even if we never start a foundation or donate millions to a cause, every one of us can find a way to make a difference. And that, friends, is what true "riches" are all about.





Bob De Dea
Guest Contributor
The Tycoon Report