The Wealthy Family

I believe that I will begin a new line of thinking, or perhaps just a different twist on the financial line I have talked about previously. I have, up to this point thought along the lines of how someone like my self or my children might become wealthy as an individual or as a couple. But while I was employed by IBM a number of years ago, one of my co-workers, William Oyang, wanted to purchase a house. He spoke with his father and "the family" loaned him the money to make the purchase. He would then pay back into the family, still paying interest but not as much as the market was charging. It was a win for both sides. William paid a lower rate than what was out inthe market but the family fund was paid more interest than they would have made by keeping the money in the stock/bond market or in CDs, etc. Just as with a bank, "the Family" held the lean on the house and the terms were basically the same as with a normal mortgage if you did not pay. The nice thing was that there was a little councilling that came along with the lending (or not lending if it was a bad investment).

I don't know much more about the details but I was impressed that in his family there was a fund where loans could be obtained at reasonable rates for some of the great things in life. I thought about what it must be like to have funds available for missions, education as well as a home.

How would such a fund be obtained? How would it be administered? How would it be handled or distributed as the family, children, grand children and great-grand children, expanded the family into greater and greater numbers.

What other benefits could be obtained through banding together to get better rates? Fleet insurance on cars and trucks? Services such a yard care or home maintenance?

These are the topics that I will begin covering as I investigate what it would take to make a wealthy family rather than just a wealthy couple.

The Dogs in my Life

Our dog of fourteen years quietly left mortality a few weeks back. It was a time of sadness for all of us. But it made me reflect on the dogs that have been in my life over the years.

It seems that I can hardly remember a time when there was not a dog in the family. Even before my earliest memories, there was a dog in the family that my parents recalled with fondness, a black lab named Sally. She lived with us until I was about five, I guess. My one memory of her was that she protected the baby chickens from other dogs that were trying to get into the cage in our yard in Tucson. I understand that she tolerated my baby curiosity in gargantuan servings. We moved to a different home about the time I was five and I never knew what happened to that old pup.

We soon got another dog, a Cocker-Miniature Poodle mix that resulted in a white Cocker with curly fur. She was a pretty dog named Cracker. She became my brother's dog when I went off to school. He loved that dog and played with her daily. He was most devastated when she died due to being left in a container outside in Arizona. He and my mother tried to get home quickly when he remembered but even a short time in the Arizona heat was too much for her and she was gone.

It wasn't too long before another Cocker, this one like golden honey and with her tail in-tact, was welcomed into our family. Again she was my brother's dog, and that was okay. She was known as Dolly and my brother loved her and trained her and loved her some more. She was the only dog we ever had that would smile at you when she was in trouble. I think that my Dad taught her that. She lived to be a ripe old age for a dog.

Sometime before Dolly was gone there was a new contender for the doggy throne. A smaller-than-usual German Shepherd named Midnight became part of our family. She was a strong runner and my brother and I had the job of taking her for walks. Dad thought that it would "be good for us".Most of the time she was very good but when she would see another dog or something that attracted her, we were just not big enough to keep her under control. She would pull and eventually we would end up running as fast as our little legs would go to keep from being dragged onto our faces. Eventually she would win the race and we would let go of the leash and off she would go like a rocket. Then came the task of following her to where she went and attempting to catch her. I remember more than once having to walk home and tell my mother that the dog had gotten away again and that we couldn't find her. We would hop in the car and drive around the neighborhoods until we finally found her and she was ready to get int he car for a ride home. Our "walks" with Midnight came to an end when she finally got into a fight with some piece of lunch-meat for a dog and broke its leg. It might not have been so bad if the offending rat-in-a-dog-suit was not in his own yard. To keep the dog from being put down my dad gave her to some people who owned a ranch where she could run far and wide.

Somewhere in there came a Toy Poodle named Sugar. She was a pretty ugly dog but my brother loved her, too. Somehow I ended up with the job of keeping her clipped. It was good training for another job that I never wanted as a profession (along with yard maintenance.) This dog was always mothering something and when we got some new kittens she would nurse them along with her own pups. My brother had determined to breed her and, although she was not a papered dog, he found someone in the neighborhood who would let us use their male for breeding in exchange for a puppy. She would have four or five pups and my brother would sell them for about $80 each without papers. He made some good money for a short period of time.

When I got married in Tucson, I could not imagine a home without a dog. Before the vows had been taken, my bride already had a dog (a St. Nikolaus Tag gift). Kerl was a great German Shepherd dog and lived up to her name (which means "mischief") on more than one occasion. She would often get into the garbage and taste everything that had been tossed out. That is, until the time that we came home with sub sandwiches. The little jalapeno peppers we left in the papers which had wrapped the sandwiches. We left the house for about 10 minutes to check out a fire engine in the neighborhood and when we got back, the dog had been in the garbage again. But when we let her in to where her water was, she spent about 5 minutes trying to drink away the sting of those peppers on her tongue. She never got into the garbage again.

Soon a second German Shepherd joined the family. He was a small blond Shepherd pup. He was named Kitty so that I could enjoy the irony of calling, "Here Kitty, Kitty" and having this big dog come running. His ears were not very strong and so they leaned. He always looked like he was in a big wind storm.

Eventually we moved to an apartment where we could not have pets and so the two of them were given to a good home together. Another sad day.

Kids came along to our family while we lived in Phoenix, and so did more dogs. We had a honey Cocker who lived for a long time, was eventually blind and passed on. There was, during that time another dog that did not stay with us too long. She was a chewer and when she eventually chewed up my glasses, which I was mostly blind without, she was off to the Humane Society.

Eventually, after time in San Diego and then back in Tucson, we got another dog. She was a pretty good dog, partly Pit Bull (American Staffordshire Terrier) and mostly blond. But eventually, she too, butted heads with me over something and was back to the Humane Society.

Then came Shelley. She was a great dog. She was half coyote, half German Shepherd and looked like a blond Shepherd. She was also most likely the smartest one in the family but never devious. She learned to come, walk, lay down and stay, using either voice or hand commands, without any training. She just understood and was obedient. She did shed a lot, A LOT of fur. She had this really soft under coat but it was constantly coming out whether summer or winter. And when you were done brushing her, she would shed some more.

Over the last couple of years of her life her hips started getting bad until near the end she could hardly walk. She quit coming upstairs to sleep and eventually, could hardly get up on the couch to sleep. About that time she started growing a couple of tumors - one on her chest and another on her rear ankle. Neither seemed to bother her, and a friend who worked in a veterinarian's office looked at her tumors and indicated that they were probably benign but to watch them. The one on her chest seemed to go dormant but the one on her foot continued to grow slowly but larger until it was the size of a softball. But that was still fine until a cyst began to grow in the tumor. Evidently this cyst was not something that could be ignored by Shelley. She started licking it all the time. Eventually she started gnawing at it. We tried bandaging it and other things to keep her from worrying it but you know how that goes with dogs. Eventually it got infected and she would bleed whenever she got up to walk somewhere.

Between the tumor, the bleeding, the hips and her old age, we finally decided that as much as we wanted to keep her, it was best to put her to sleep. What a hard decision that was. Fortunately, the veterinarian was so kind and thoughtful about doing this for our friend. I carried her into the office and they lead us into a room where we could spend some time with Shelley. They explained how they would give her a shot to calm her and then, when we were ready they would administer a dose that would put her whole body to sleep. We could stay with her as long as we wished. Jennie wend with Gaye and me. It was hard to let her go and we cried for awhile but were so grateful that the people at the vet's had been so gentle with us.

We still miss her. The dust bunnies are fewer. There is no need to do "poop patrol."There is no one sitting in the front window barking at anyone who intrudes upon our space. There is no one to meet and greet us at the door. No one to take camping with me. No one to put her head in my lap and look at me with sad brown eyes. No one to get excited when I come down in my Levi's because it means I will be home all day. She is really missed . . .