Wealth

I've been meaning to write about this for quite a while. With some distance between my thoughts from then to now.

In my very long career as a business consultant (financial planning, corporate and personal tax services, management, controller) I was involved with many millionaires. Supreme wealth of the yacht, race horses,  multiple homes in multiple countries types. Some were in media, others in industry, some in entertainment.

And I have to say the majority of these self made millionaires were very smart but incredibly selfish. They gave little to charity and had the utmost contempt for those who were in poverty or struggling. They resented any kind of social programmes, calling all who availed of them welfare bums. If they could make it, anyone could. But people were lazy, holding their hands out, watching TV, smoking and drinking beer all day while everyone else slaved to support these layabouts.

All of them inspired their underlings to accommodate their every whim whether through unpaid overtime or in a couple of cases manage their personal life styles as well. As examples of that I will offer assuring their wives they were off to Bermuda on a last minute business trip with a Russian financier when, in fact, they were off with the latest blonde. Or managing personal bank accounts with pay-offs (read blackmail) to ladies of the night or some unexpected results of a one night stand, or obscure payoffs to foreign bankers for looking the other way.

I was privy to many business conferences with tables of millionaires eating caviar and drinking champagne for lunch. In my younger and more foolish days, I wallowed in the reflected glow of being around these people, dropping their names casually into conversations, sharing my benefits of desirable theatre seats or visits to television show sets. It had an infectious quality to it all. I realize, in hindsight, how absolutely obnoxious I must have been in my champagne coloured Mustang with my matching business suit. I was at all the important meetings, taking notes for my boss, reviewing different financial statistics with him in consultation with the others, acquiring more assets, disposing of others.

In chatting with a multi-millionaire one night at one of those exclusive steak houses that didn't even have a name out front, I asked the question: when does anyone have enough money, adding it was a serious question. My companion repeated the question to the entire table, about 8. The response was laughter, genuine laughter.

My dear, said one, down the table from me, there is never enough, there is always more.

More laughter followed - me, to my shame, joining in.  

And there you have it, dear reader, now you can understand the Trumpian World.

Miscellany

Something not talked or written about much is the challenge of pulling oneself together after grief. And there's no time line allotted to grief, is there? It takes as long as it takes. Often it's delusional. We think we're adjusting nicely after, oh whatever length of time, and bam, it hits again out of the blue, a memory triggered by something small, something large, an old song, a beloved poem, a photo falling out of a book, a bookmark. And it knocks the breath out of the body. 

Another friend died during the past week and I feel a little suspended in time. Well, a lot. Little projects swept aside, a commissioned article I am unable to start, an editing job sitting in my files. I didn't know her very well but enough to like her when our paths crossed. She was outspoken and opinionated on her politics. And like myself, had no time for small talk. So we clicked. If we lived in the same province we would have made the friendship closer. Cancer is taking a lot of us. Frightening. Even for the so-called "clean" livers, the hikers, the vegetarians, the "honour the bodies".

I drank and smoked like a fiend for years. And yet here I am, cleaned up and sober now, and surveying the wreckage of other lives taken far too soon. The ones who would gently lecture me about my "unsustainable" habits, my "out of controlness."

I don't know why I'm jotting down these random thoughts here and now. But I'm happy, in a weird way, that the writing muse has struck me tonight in these ramblings. And maybe it will ignite the unfinished reams of writing around me.

I go through my bloglist now and it's looking mighty slim. I have an RIP section and it startles me as to the number on it. My old blogmates. Some vanish with no reason, some let us know. One sent out a bunch of postcards to us a week before she died with her photo on the front. 

But I wouldn't have missed the ride in blogland for the world and hope to continue and more frequently.

As I picked up my daughter from the airport I was astonished to see 3 RCMP officers on horseback, casually riding by my car as I waited. You will have to embiggen. 

Sunday Selections

Scattered shots. I'll dive into my vast trove of photos and see what comes up.

I will go to Sue's funeral tonight via live streaming, 10.30pm my time Saturday night which is noon Sunday time in Canberra. I find it so hard to get my head around this time difference.

These so-called "dog roses" grow on the hedges and even on the beaches here. Their scent is out of this world. They are not native to here.They originally came from Ireland in the 18th century along with forget-me-nots which also grow wild here.

A picture of me on a casual picnic with my parents when I was 3 years old. Note how formal people dressed then. 1946.

Sunset sky from my favourite local beach, Middle Cove.

An old photo of the world's best girl, my beloved Ansa, who loved to pose.

Sunday Selections

Joining with others on Sunday Selections. This week I took my friend who has dementia out a few times. She loves to get out and looks forward to the places I take her. I am aware that she never, in the past, went out to sight-see or partake in any kind of visits to nearby beaches or harbour views. But she shopped every day for fresh food when she had a car.

She exclaims over and over that she has never seen such sights and she is inspired and serene when with me. I am delighted for her. I took a few shots when we were out, all around St. John's Harbour.

I love the reflections on the water.

My friend's sweater matched the paint on the wharf

A view of part of the city. An area called The Battery.

There were a couple of cruise ships in on the other side but I couldn't quite capture a good shot.