Ever think about where your money goes? Ever think about what you buy and what it does for your life? Does anything last?
Last week in my budget and finance class we were talking about durable goods, and what percentage of our income we spent on purchasing them.
Durable goods are items like cars, washing machines, clothes (at least with men’s fashion), and other appliances like TVs, VCRs and other abbreviated expenses. Other goods like food, CDs and other non-essential items use up a lot of our money but have to be purchased many times over because they either run out or go out of style.
My professor asked the class how much of our income we had spent on durable goods. Most said zero. This impromptu poll is not surprising as college students (especially graduate students) are famous for having no money and finding creative ways of coping. I began to wonder, how much of what I buy really enhances my life?
How many of my purchases have really turned out to be a good investment? I am talking about more than an occasional pleasure or a night out on the town. How often have I bought a movie, CD or some other frivolous item when I could have saved the $20 and purchased groceries, or, God forbid, could have saved it.
Until we are spending our own money, we have no concept of the value of it or the things that we acquire with it. I think we also have no true concept of ownership, until we have worked for it.
Two summers ago, I worked graveyard shifts at a local paper packing plant to buy my first electric guitar. It was nothing great – $300 dollars for a chunk of wood with some wires in it, made in Indonesia, probably by some kid who wanted to save up and buy his own guitar. It might have been a piece of junk, but it was mine.
There is nothing quite like looking at my guitar, propped up against the wall, remembering all the hell I suffered at that nasty job (I was a temp and worked there for four weeks, 6 p.m. to 6 a.m., three days off two, then reverse).
I remember packing boxes of receipt paper rolls with three rolls in each hand, still barely keeping up. I remember going home at dawn and going to bed only to wake up four hours later crying because I couldn’t flex my hands. I had to take two Tylenol just to sleep. Then I had to go back to work that night.
When I look at my little black guitar, I don’t just see a cheap piece of wood, stuffed with magnets and wires. I see my joy and pain. I see my effort. That’s what it means to own something and appreciate it. Now as I get older and prepare to go out into the world I find myself on a limited budget. I have begun to look at how much money I have wasted. I have a collection of over 50 DVDs. I used to think that was important, and I didn’t know why my mother thought my things were junk.
Now, I don’t like to look at my credit card statement or my checkbook and see that it all goes to Blockbuster, pizza places, electronics stores and Wal-Mart. What do I have to show for this spending? I have nothing but a couple of movies, a video game, a free rental and a lot of heartburn.
What is all this about? Well, while we’re young, and hopefully before we use our credit cards to buy things we can’t afford, we need to learn the value of a dollar, as my mother says. I never thought that I would endorse publicly what my parents have taught me, because after all, I am supposedly one of the voices in dissent of the status quo. The most frightening thing is that I find in some cases, that the status quo isn’t wrong.
The real rebellion in my generation is admitting that our parents, teachers, preachers and other authority figures are right sometimes.
In this case, I have found that this rebellion exists. While I don’t believe that the acquisition of things or the hoarding of money leads to happiness, there is something to be said looking at the four walls of your little apartment and saying, “I pay for this.”
It means something to look at your TV and remember what you had to do to get it or remember the funny story about shopping for a car after working months to save up for a down payment. It’s all about basic human pride and the true meaning of ownership that comes only when we realize that things cost money and begin to pay that money.
Durable goods reflect not only an investment of cash but a sacrifice of time, body and wants to scrape together those little slips of green paper.
I don’t want to look back into my living room 10 years from now and see that I worked 40 hours a week and have nothing to show for it – nothing for which I can say with pride, “I worked for that.”
I hope that what I do with my money reflects what I find important and meaningful. Money doesn’t do anyone any good if it stays locked up in a bank, but it doesn’t do anyone any good when it is squandered on pizza and movies.
What I’m saying is that money isn’t everything – neither is the stuff we buy with it. The truth is somewhere in the middle as it is with all things.

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