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I’VE ALWAYS BEEN a saver, and perhaps even pathologically frugal. Growing up, it pained me to spend money, even on food when I was hungry. Today, I have more than enough money, but I still resist paying full price for food.
Perhaps I’m just genetically frugal, or perhaps my feelings about money reflect my parents and my upbringing. My mom once shared that her aunt predicted that she’d make lots of money, but it would be like grains of rice and slip through her fingers. Meanwhile, my dad handled the family finances, but money was never openly discussed. I never knew how well we were doing.
I have one vivid, recurring image of my childhood in the Philippines: I’m still hungry after eating dinner. To quell my hunger, I would ask for a banana. If I was given one, I’d eat it with any remaining rice. I’d eat everything on my plate. Every single grain of rice. Nothing was slipping through my fingers.
There were other memories. After we moved to the U.S., I recall gasoline prices doubling overnight, from 25 cents a gallon to 50 cents. I’d wait in the car with my parents to fill up the tank, sitting in a long line of cars that snaked around the block.
Coming home from school one day, I found my dad at home, repaving the garage floor instead of being at work. He didn’t tell me why he was home. But words like unemployment and recession soon dominated the news. Such memories are the basis of my money beliefs, and I had to untangle them to be financially free.
I consider myself lucky. I haven’t been affected by natural disasters or serious accidents, and I’ve never been a victim of violence. I graduated from college debt-free, thanks to working three summers with Amtrak in a unionized job and thanks to choosing an affordable in-state public university.
I also had the good fortune to marry the right person. She’s a saver, and has the knack and patience to get the best deal on anything, especially airfares. We’ve had health setbacks, but nothing catastrophic. We moved to Silicon Valley in the mid-1990s and bought the worst-looking house in an affordable yet safe neighborhood—just before property prices skyrocketed.
We only needed one income to pay the mortgage and property taxes, which was just as well, since I lost my job right before the closing. I found other work, but we didn’t let that affect our lifestyle. We stayed in the same house, drove the same cars, ate at modest restaurants and travelled on the cheap.
Soon, we had an interesting predicament. After paying our living expenses, the leftover dollars sat in our checking account. The balance eventually grew to six figures, but the money was earning 0% interest. Intellectually, I knew I had to invest this money. Behaviorally, I was stuck.
I was afraid of losing the money. Afraid of losing my job again. No one I trusted invested in the stock market. My wife deferred to me on financial decisions, and she’d literally fall asleep whenever I talked about money.
One day, I read about John Bogle. He explained index investing and that Vanguard Group is like a credit union, run solely for the benefit of customers. The firm’s purpose was to make its customers rich, not the other way around. This was my aha moment.
I finally contacted three certified financial planners, and chose the one who’d create a financial plan for us for a flat fee. Though I didn’t follow most of the planner’s recommendations, I did open a Vanguard account, and bought several Vanguard index-mutual funds and exchange-traded funds, building a 60% stock-40% bond mix.
It didn’t happen overnight, but opening the account, living frugally, staying employed and automatically adding new savings allowed us to become financially independent. The plan I constructed took into account my money beliefs. It was conservative on purpose. When the markets inevitably crashed, my reaction was no action. Stay the course. Nothing to see here.
Going to church regularly, I became aware of time. Fellow parishioners would die, or I’d see their children grow from infants to young adults. During services, I’d think that maybe today is the best day of my life. Tomorrow, I might not be able to tie my own shoes.
I could have continued working and accumulating. But instead of waiting for the next severance package, I voluntarily left the workforce at age 57. My wife is on her own timeline and, for now, she’s still working.
I think about paying it forward using my time, talent and treasure. Perhaps I can do something fun and have an impact. We’re putting a niece through college. We talk about spending more on ourselves. Yes, it’ll be a journey to go from saver to spender. But I need to buy those cherries now, instead of waiting for when they’re on sale.
Venicio Navarro was born in the Philippines but grew up among the cornfields of Illinois, somehow surviving the heavy-metal rock music of his teenage years. He jumped into retirement and currently spends his time being a tourist, golfing and working on his health.
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I too retired at 57, and my wife still works. We will have small pensions and a TIPS ladder to help us through the years after she retires and before I collect Social Security at 70.
Venicio, I enjoyed reading your story! As many author’s on HD have written, it’s interesting to learn about the path one takes that enables them to retire when they are ready. All the best to you and your wife.
About 25 years ago the Physical Therapy practice that I worked for was bought out by the local hospital. I had a small pension and profit sharing total that I now was in control of. I said to my brother who at the time was doing his own investing online (rare at the time) that my plan was to contact a member of my church who was in the finance field. My brother’s response was you have a brain (a major concession from my fraternal twin), and a computer.
He provided me with a website that would allow one to screen mu