Poor Is Not a State of Wallet

 

Poor isn’t a state of wallet, it’s a state of mind.  Much like the saying “You are only as happy as you decide to be,” you are only as poor (or rich) as you decide to be.

“Oh gosh, I don’t have the money to completely repaint my living room, get new carpet, and all new furniture” does not constitute poor. 

I’ve had poor periods in my life.  It’s when you have to make a conscious decision about whether to pay the light bill or buy groceries because you sure as hell can’t do both. 

 

I once got stopped by a deputy because my tabs were expired…by six months.  Okay, hear me out before you judge.  The poor man caught me after a pretty nasty day and I was out of sorts, so when he asked if I knew my tabs were expired, my answer was “Yes, I do, but it’s been a choice between tabs and groceries and groceries have been winning.” 

After that, I had to figure how I was going to buy groceries AND pay the stupid fine. 

Conversely, or on the same note, being rich is also a state of mind.  Even when we didn’t have any cash on hand, we had everything we needed.  We always had decent clothes to wear, a warm house, good food.  And we did manage to do fun stuff on the cheap.

We never took our kids on a “hotel vacation” until this January at the Waterpark of America.  Our vacations consisted of state parks because it cost $8 per night versus hundreds at a hotel and we brought our own food.  Day trips were of the sight-seeing sort. 

We spent many enjoyable afternoons at Oxbow Zoo watching the otters and the bison or hiking on some of their trails.  We would drive over to Cabela’s in Owatonna a couple of times a year to check out the animal mountain, the Bargain Cave, and go through the aquariums.  All it cost us was a little bit of gas and the price of two candy bars from the checkout because the kids had been good.

Maybe the most memorable of our on-the-cheap day trips was one horribly hot July Sunday afternoon.  We got out of church and headed to Red Wing with the kids.  We drove past the waterfront area near the water park.  There were open picnic tables, so we traveled on to the other side of town to Subway to get their Sunday special of two foot-long subs for $10.  A brief stop at the Kwik Trip across the street for a 12-pack of store brand pop, and we were good to go.

Well, Molly was a little nervous because she was absolutely certain that the short drive to the park in the nearly unbearable heat and humidity would ruin the sandwiches because “the mayonnaise will rot!”  We still bat that phrase around on occasion at picnics.

Did we have times in our marriage where money was an absolutely essential critical issue?  Damn tooting, we did.  We were ever poor?  Not for one single, solitary second.