Carry On

I was in the car recently and heard Jackson Browne’s Running on Empty. The lyric “In ’69 I was twenty-one” jumped out and stabbed me right smack in the chest. Ouch.

I know I harp on the rapid passage of time too often, but 1969 just doesn’t “feel” that long ago, and the memories are still vivid. When I remember 1969, I immediately hear the opening beat of CCR’s Fortunate Son. That driving drumbeat and the twang of the guitar when it comes in a few seconds later seem to encapsulate the times for me.

Richard Nixon (Richard “E” Nixon, according to Archie Bunker), Vietnam, long hair and bell bottoms, and rock & roll were sending the younger generation to the devil. Who knew the devil lived in Woodstock, NY? I always thought he was from Louisiana, myself.

I was young enough in 1969—12, to put a number on it—that the world was filled with infinite possibilities, and my biggest problem was that I wanted to be a star athlete but topped the scales at about 101 lbs. Yes, somewhere in the interim, I learned to eat. Overeat. Shoulda spent more time trying to be a star in the classroom, where there was a sliver of hope.

Effort, Not the Starting Line

For my peer group back in 1969, it was the innate gifts one had that set him or her apart. Whether it was beauty, physical strength, or academic talents, by about third grade we had somehow segregated all the kids into their respective categories.

We never took a vote; it just seemed to happen. I guess that is what peer pressure and prejudices do.

It took me a while to figure out that in life’s journey, it was effort, not the starting line, that dictated the path.

Along the lines of how we think and how it makes us behave, I just finished rereading Carl Richards’ book, The Behavior Gap. That book explains that statistics reveal that over a given period, the S&P 500 return was—as an example—X%, while the average investor’s return over that same period was often something substantially less than X. The difference in potential return and actual return being attributed to the investor’s behavior.

OK, let’s have a show of hands. Who, at one time or another, has reflected, “Shoot, I was/am my own worst enemy [in said situation]”?

OK, put your hands down. That one was pretty much universal except for the narcissists up in the mezzanine. After lunch, let’s see if we can relocate them to the attic.

The Behavior Gap and the Hard Part of Investing

This behavior issue is why many personal finance authors recommend buying a market index fund and leaving it alone. The key in this approach is not so much the index fund, but the “leave it alone” aspect.

I don’t spend a lot of time worrying over the question, “Will AI take my job away?” Yes, computer simulations can create good investment portfolios. Shoot, we’ve been using those tools for years; they are just becoming more sophisticated.

The problem that will remain, however, is that behavior gap—and helping each other avoid bad behavior.

Bad behavior, for the investor, includes things like selling in a panic when the market drops, buying in a panic when the investor is afraid of missing out on whatever good fortune the neighbor may boast about, and the old classic: churning one’s own account according to the news of the loudest voice in the news cycle.

About a century ago, American newspaperman and author H. L. Mencken wrote: “For every complex problem, there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.”

You are not surprised to hear I love this. Pithy statements filled with sardonic truth are always a plus to my day.

Financial Planning Is Vital

For our purposes, if we accept that investing and retirement planning are a complex problem, and indexing to the stock market is a proposed solution, then yes, this is likely wrong for many investors—or, at the very least, overly simplistic.

There is not a lot of thought given to one’s financial situation and goals in such a broad, universal approach. You and I spend our time trying to create plans for individuals, not generic populations.

This brings me to another tidbit I found in The Behavior Gap:

“Financial plans are worthless—financial planning is vital.” —Carl Richards

Maybe I need to change the title of this column to “All About the Planning.”

I always harangue people to have a plan and some written goals (“It’s not a goal if it’s not measurable and in writing”). Perhaps I need to harangue a bit more on reviewing and updating the plan.

Nothing stays the same. It’s not 1969 anymore, despite the recent rise in oil prices!

When Life Puts Us on a Path

I sometimes think about those kids in third grade who found themselves put into the “stupid” or “ugly” or generally unacceptable for polite society categories, and how hard it must have been to climb out of that hole. My life experience and a few class reunions indicate some never made it out.

I’m becoming overly maudlin here, so I’ll say I believe it to be true of any journey. We can get put on a path or in a direction that leads to places we do not wish to go, without really knowing how it happened.

But we are not condemned to wander aimlessly because: maps!

I’m talking about plans and maps and projections into the future! I do love a good map.

TripTiks, Station Wagons, and the Joy of a Good Map

Remember TripTiks from AAA? I loved those things.

I remember poring over the TripTik my family got from AAA in 1968, when we took the old Kingswood Estate station wagon—green with faux wood paneling—from Lake Wales, Florida, to Jackson, Wyoming, and back.

You’ll have to ask my two older brothers about the view heading forward. My sister, Ruth, and I only know about what we saw fading into the distance as we peered out the back window from the rear-facing third seat.

As an aside, a free bit of publicity: a little internet work showed me that AAA still provides TripTiks, but the preferred media is now offered on your cell phone and not old-school paper maps. I guess somebody thinks that’s an upgrade.

Yes, maps bring me great joy.

I am befuddled by people who say, “I can’t read a map.” I can just as easily identify with statements such as “I don’t read” or “I don’t know how to breathe.”

I guess we are all different, but some things I think are basic to being able to function in this life. Perhaps I’m wrong once again, but probably not in this case.

Every Journey Has Flat Tires

One of the things I remember about the road trip to Wyoming is that we had new tires for the trip. “Glass belted radials.” The newest and safest available.

As I recall, the trip was punctuated—pun intended—by multiple flat tires. The spare fit inside the rear quarter panel of the vehicle, necessitating a major unpacking and repacking every time a tire went kaput.

I bet Dad didn’t remember the trip with as much fondness as I always have, even though he got to face forward.

So, on these journeys of ours, the road is often long and tiring and seemingly endless. I hear a lot of “I’ll never” from my young adult kids who are buying first homes.

And then there are the flat tires, the bear markets, and the stresses and strains of life—some small and some unimaginably tragic.

So what do we do along the road?

Chop Wood, Carry Water

I think I’ll steal from an old Buddhist proverb to summarize my thoughts and investment advice today:

Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.

After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.

PS: Today’s word is callow.

And no, that is not what you make candles from.

September 2026