I experience more financial freedom than Paul Manafort, even before he went to jail.
My more financial freedom than pre-jail Manafort came as somewhat of a surprise since Mr. Manafort recently earned over $60 million dollars in a single five-year period.
By “financial freedom” I mean free from excessive worry when it comes to money, free from hurry, free of looming cash deadlines that I can not meet. Free from having to think about money too much.
Here’s one lifestyle difference where Paul and I diverge: My mom bought me a suit several decades ago. It hangs in the closet for funerals and the as-yet-to-be received invitation from Stockholm to come and accept the Nobel—Peace, Literature, whatever. The suit used to be a little too big around the waist. No longer. Still, one suit is enough. (I live in cowboy country.)
I’m on Medicare (we all should be on Medicare!) and my payment for supplemental insurance for my wife and I is automatically deducted each month from our bank account. I pay my household and auto insurance once a year, on August 1. It’s a big chunk—in the low four figures. Two or three weeks ahead of that yearly payment I sell some of my losing stock investments to cover the premium. (If one invests in the stock market—what I have simplified down to “buying a little income”—one will with great certainty have at least a few losing investments. )
Curiously, this is a win, win, win deal. 1.) My insurance is paid up for the year and I don’t have to think about it again; 2.) I get to take a loss on my income tax for the stock I sold; 3.) I get a somewhat significant reduced rate on the cost of my insurance for paying it all at once, a year ahead. Such are the small victories in middle-class money management.
Paul Manafort’s secretary once sent several e-mails reminding him that his insurance payment was overdue and was going to be canceled soon if he didn’t send a check pronto. A check or a wire transfer from Cyprus. I’ve been in that circumstance (except for the Cyprus option.) Haven’t we all? It’s gut-twisting and a potential sleep depriver.
What do you think? Please take the short poll at the end of this article.
I’ve been happily married for close to a hundred years. We’ve been in our modest home for almost forty. Long enough to pay off the mortgage, be mortgage free. I planted all the shade-bearing trees that are now taller than the house. I put up the fence, planted the grass, decades and decades ago. For us, our home is now a little slice of heaven.
Paul Manafort is worried his house—where he and his wife live—might go into foreclosure. Actually, he worries about several houses that might go into foreclosure. Maybe he could take out a loan…
Decades ago, I knew how he felt. Haven’t we all been squeezed, a time or two or three? But I’ve matured since then. Most of us mature. By the time most of us are Paul’s age, we’ve learned what’s important, what’s not.
House going into foreclosure: another sleep depriver.
As I said, I was surprised to discover—owing to a somewhat obsessive following of the Manafort trials—that in my current season I accidentally feel more financially secure, financially free, than Mr. Manafort did, with his sixty million.
So, other than suits, do Mr. Manafort and I have extremely different lifestyles?
On the one hand, yes: I don’t wear an ankle bracelet, telling my jailers where I am, moment by moment.
On the other hand, no: In the bathroom, we each take our pants off one leg at a time, and do our business, standing up or sitting down, for as long as it takes to do our business.
At night, when he is in his bedroom, and I in mine, and we each lie on our beds, close our eyes, fall asleep—the cost of the curtains is immaterial. The trust of our bed partner—and her easy sleep, and thus our own easy sleep—figures significantly.
Following the Manafort trials, I’ve come to see that financial freedom does not come from a number in the bank but rather from the relationships I cultivate with those around me—both people and institutions.
Honesty, transparency, forthrightness are all obviously necessary for financial freedom. Hard work over many decades, paying the monthly bills, also adds up to a certain freedom. But financial freedom is impossible if that hard work over many decades is not accompanied by open and honest dealings with co-workers, and the institutions that support that work. And it’s probably easier to do if the daily work is grounded in true service to a worthy cause.
Perhaps some small minority of people get born into a certain narrow type of “financial freedom”—where they hardly ever worry about money just because there’s so damned much of it. But this is rare, and not really relevant to most of us in our search for financial solvency.
The financial freedom most of us yearn for is freedom from excess worry—not worrying about bouncing checks, making monthly mortgage payments, regularly paying off the credit card, making the insurance premiums. It comes down to not worrying when shopping at the grocery store about being able to pay for what we want to eat this week.
Financial freedom means we can pay the cable bill and watch the Yankees game on television—without needing Paul Manafort’s $250,000 season tickets, a charge still showing up on his American Express bill long after the season has ended.
If he had the time—and the freedom—I’d like to take Paul Manafort to coffee and explain to him the “common man’s” metrics for financial freedom, and the relatively simple things we need to do to attain such freedom. (Be open, be honest, work hard, pay your bills, hang in there.) Again, learning what’s important, what’s not.
And oh yeah, financial freedom is also much easier if you live the type of life that you seldom find yourself in the position where you must hire a bevy of expensive criminal lawyers. (I wonder if Mr. Manafort’s lawyers ever worry about his paying of their fees. Or did they ask to get paid up front?)
I think I’ll go check to see how my small portfolio of stocks is doing. And then watch a Yankee’s game on cable.