On Saturday, I visited my grandma for lunch. I saw her a few weeks ago at a house party. But I wanted to drop off some magazines for her to read. The bus-only Transitway is being converted to an LRT line, so there were numerous detours.
As usual, she tells me stories about the old days. This time, she remarked that several of her kids and grand-kids (like myself) have few friends. She also didn't have many as a child and now at 95-years-old and living in another country, even fewer nowadays. Yet a solitary nature isn't the only thing I inherited, there is also a tendency to miserliness.
It's true that my culture usually hoard money. When the old country didn't have a robust banking system, you either buy land and houses or you keep your wealth as cash and gold. The former has its own problems, with many in the diaspora buying up properties here and contributing in their own way to the housing crisis. As for the latter, my grandma has thousands of dollars stashed away in her room.
I've emulated her for years, at least in the electronic banking sense. I finally talked to a financial advisor a few weeks ago. He was sanguine about it, but he probably told his wife later about his new hoarder client. We will hammer out more details about my financial plans in the coming days. But I suspect retirement isn't any time soon.
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