David Gartland

ONE DAY, AS I WAS walking through the mathematics building at the community college I attended, I saw a poster that screamed, “Math Majors?”
That got my attention. The poster introduced me to a career possibility: becoming an actuary. My job path was set. Or so I thought.
The actuarial career path consists of passing either five or 10 standardized tests. Complete five, and you become an associate. Complete 10, and you’re a fellow.

WE RECEIVED A PHOTO Christmas card from a guy I used to work with. The picture was taken at his daughter’s wedding, with my old colleague standing next to his wife, son and daughter-in-law. Picture perfect.
The only problem: His story isn’t picture perfect. When he and I first met, we worked in the same division at an insurance company. Right before the division was closed down, I transferred to a different department. Eventually,

IT’S THAT TIME OF year when people think about giving. For my wife, this is what she lives for. She loves buying presents. She’s a very giving person and puts a great deal of thought into the gifts she buys.
She’ll buy gifts all year round, even when the event—such as Christmas—is months away. Problem is, she frequently forgets where she’s stored the presents she’s bought. They’ll eventually be found, but in many cases long past the date when she wanted to give them.

MY LIFE’S GOAL WAS to make money. I make no apologies for this. I’m not particularly gifted in this pursuit, but I did persevere.
I take satisfaction that I stuck to my goal despite all obstacles. There were many trips, falls, mistakes and failures along the way. I had to work hard and seek a new job each time my old employment ended. I set out to do something—and I did it.
That all changed when I retired.

IN THE EARLY 1980s, I was a bachelor in Brooklyn. Unskilled at cooking, I didn’t eat at home unless my food came out of a cereal box or snack bag. For regular meals, I depended on a small neighborhood diner.
It was open for breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days a week. On weekends, it was my main source of food. Like so many diners I’ve visited since, it offered complete meals—soup, main course and dessert—for one price.

FATHERHOOD WASN’T one of my life goals. I didn’t feel like I had a wonderful childhood, so I didn’t think I had much to offer my offspring that would help them to lead a wonderful life. If children happened, okay, but it was never a goal.
My first marriage ended because I placed money over fatherhood. I thought not having kids would speed my path to wealth. My wife disagreed—and walked out.
When I met my current wife,

I RECENTLY MENTIONED to my wife’s cousin that I’m taking required minimum distributions from my IRA. He won’t have to—because he doesn’t have an IRA. Instead, he keeps his car trunk full of cash.
He’s in the car business. He buys and fixes cars, all out of his mother’s two-car garage. He keeps cash to buy used cars at rock-bottom prices. People are willing to sell a car cheaper if they can get the cash immediately.

A FEW YEARS AGO, I came across an announcement for a blueberry festival in Hammonton, New Jersey. My wife is always up for doing something different, so we made our way there one summer day.
It turned out to be a great way to spend the day and learn the history of New Jersey’s blueberry industry. The industry was founded by a woman looking to expand the crops on her family’s farm around the turn of the 20th century.

MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER Jim Rohn said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” His contention: We should carefully pick the folks who surround us because, over time, we’ll become more like them.
Recent research offers some support for this idea. For instance, if we have a close friend who becomes obese, one study found we’re 57% more likely to become obese as well. If that’s so, we might also want to cozy up to skinny friends who count exercise as fun recreation.

WHEN I WAS GROWING up, I’d receive Series E savings bonds as birthday gifts from my parents. It was the start of many to come. My parents had great respect for savings bonds and, as I got older, I came to hold them in high regard as well.
Savings bonds never offered the highest interest rate. At a defense plant where I worked, a guy in the accounting department questioned my bond buying. He noted that savings bonds paid less interest than the certificates of deposit then available.

YEARS AGO, I SAW a Looney Tunes cartoon starring Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd. As always, good old Elmer was trying to kill a duck for dinner, only to be outsmarted by the much cleverer Daffy.
In this particular episode, Daffy is playing a game of catch with his duck friends outside Elmer’s house. An overthrown ball crashes through a window. Elmer comes out and says, “Who broke that glass? Someone is going to pay for that.” The ducks all bump into each other in their efforts to run away.

BY THE 1990s, New York City had been in decline for decades. What brought about the city’s recovery? It was, in part, the broken windows theory.
Picture a vacant building with one window broken. Most people wouldn’t think much of it. But this one broken window sends a signal—and, soon enough, others get broken. How do you reverse this decline? It’s easy: You get rid of the broken windows, and make sure things stay that way.

I HAVE MY MOTHER to thank for my good savings habits. She opened a savings account in my name when I was a kid. She also made sure I had a Christmas Club savings account every year. I was required to make deposits regularly.
I didn’t mow my neighbor’s lawn, have a newspaper route or sell lemonade on my front lawn. Instead, the money I saved came from the allowance my mother paid me.

ON TELEVISION, I WATCH the Barrett-Jackson auctions of expensive cars. When two bidders want the same car, they drive up the price until one decides enough is enough and drops out.
Why is this car so important to the bidders? In many cases, it’s a well-known car that’s highly valued by car collectors, so it’s treated like an investment with lasting value. Other times, it could be a model that the bidders had admired as teenagers,

FORMER NEW YORK CITY Mayor Ed Koch used to frequently ask the city’s residents, “How am I doing?”
When I was younger, I’d ask myself that same question. I was always trying to keep up with others, whether it was socially, academically, athletically or financially. My big fear was that I wasn’t going to make it. I could never let down my guard, relax and take it easy. I was always having to compensate for whatever I was deficient in.