Rent...

My wife hates it when I fall for the machine known as Aarons or Rent-a-center.  Sure, you don't get your credit checked and are instantly approved, but you pay twice the amount of the product.  She thinks it's a waste of money.  Most of my family thinks it's a waste of moolah as well.  I don't care; somehow, I'm amazed by those places.  I could walk in there with a hundred bucks and walk out with a two-thousand dollar television set.  Sweet.  I like the here and now.  I'm a fan of instant gratification.  Really, I am. 

Let's see... my grandfather was a product of the Depression era; he carried that "save your money until you're dead" philosophy with him until he was... ah, dead.  It's a shame too.  This man was an awesome man, but he was forever attached with the stigma of being a cheap skate.  I mean, just because he doesn't give the money away doesn't make him cheap.  It really doesn't.  Sometimes I'll hear my mother bitch and moan about my pop.  Often times, I'll hear an relatives bitch about him too.  Sure, he had money.  I mean, his cars were paid for; his house was paid off; all of his expenses were pretty much taken care of by him.  There was a lot of money floating around somewhere, right?  Maybe it fell through the cracks.  Maybe we'll get a call from Oprah, and she'll tell us about the missing money that they found.  Nahhhh. 

I'm a believer in being happy.  This belief has really screwed me over the years.  Nonetheless, I believe it.  Spend it when you can or somebody else will.  Nobody would accuse my father for being his father.  My father is the exact opposite in fact. My mother would be like, "oh, that's nice tooth paste, Bill."  My dad would say, "Well, it's fifty-five dollars for an ounce."  She'd say, "Yes, but I bet you it's good and effective."  My father would smile and buy the toothpaste.  He'd shell it out.  Here you go, kid.  Brush away!  I think buying that toothpaste for my mother would make him happy.  I know my mother is like this too.  They're very, very loose with their money.  It's good for me, good for us. 

This spend while you can philosophy has gotten us all into debt throughout the years.  But we're very happy people.  I think that's the key, really: find your happiness.  Find what makes you tick.

And as I write this I think about what I had just typed... Keeping money in the bank made my grandfather happy. Nobody should fault him for that.  None of him family ever went hungry; none of them ever watched a KFC commercial with their bellies growling.  If it made him happy to have coin in the bank, then let it be.

I don't know. Back to the "Rent" part of this blog.  I know you're actually renting to own at those places, but   I like it.  If you think about it, you rent or lease everything in life anyway.  The TV I have now will one day break down and be garbage.  Sure we owned it for a while, but it's gone now.  The stereo that blares in the back of my head will stop working soon.  The love I share will one day die.  I mean, I'll stop loving them or they'll stop loving me (For one reason or another).  Everything is on lease (in a way).  Nothing is yours forever.  The friendships that took me a lifetime to build are subject to this as well.  I mean, I gave some friends all of me; they cared for me when I was sick; they were there when I was heart broken; they watched me at my best, and my worst.  But what happens?  Nothing is secure.  They just move on to the next phase of life and make new, better friends.  The "love" we had soaks into the ground and is gone.  That's the way life goes though, Holmes.

It's like this, dudes: thanks for the time you've given me.  Thank you for being part of my life.  Thank you for letting me into yours.  The sun rises every day and those are the good times.  But when you leave, you leave in darkness.   When it ends, you're not given a "Terms of end of lease" paper; no, instead, you're left walking down the long, wet road with a swollen heart. 

But that's what it's all about I've come to understand.