Dying rich in old-time Phoenix


I've always thought that dying rich was an awful shame. To me, it's like leaving an amusement park with tickets that only work in there, without using them. Of course, no one really knows when their need for tickets will expire.

It's impossible for me to look at old photos of Phoenix and not occasionally think that everyone in that photo is now gone. Yes, it's a sad thought, but it's reality. And then I wonder how many of those people died rich.

Of course, as you know, no one ever considers themselves rich. I've known some fabulously wealthy people in my life, and to themselves they're just doing fine, and maybe thinking about another investment that might give them a higher rate of return. Many of those people know what it's like to be poor, and they got into the habit of saving and scrimping, and then woke up one day to find that they had a LOT of money, with more of it pouring in all of the time.

No of course I'm not going to name names, or point fingers, I don't do that. I've certainly seen my share of people who had so much money that I could almost see the hundreds poking out of their ears, going to the "dent and damaged can" store, or eating stale bread to save a few cents. So my fascination has always been with people who have spent their money.

I've known people who've given generously to charities, who have made arrangements for the distribution of their wealth after they die. Speaking for myself, I have nothing that anyone would want except my body, which I will donate to the medical school in downtown Phoenix. But in the meantime you'd better believe that I will enjoy it!

As I enter my golden years, I realize that there is after all a limit to the time we can spend here, and my goal is to use the tickets that I have for amusement in this place called life. I invest in Phoenix, by buying a coffee at my local McDonalds, by getting a gallon of fresh milk at my local grocery store, things like that.

I will not die rich, I will live rich.

Image at the top of this post: Monroe between 2nd and 3rd Street, along Millionaire's Row, in the 1890s, Phoenix, Arizona.
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