Ace Wisdom

Having owned a cottage or Condo for 25 years, Memorial Day has always signaled the beginning of the summer. For just a moment yesterday, I found myself missing the excitement of buying groceries to stock up the empty cottage shelves. The boat had to be serviced so that it would withstand kids running WFO (that is Christophers acronym for “wide fr—— open”). I guess that means as fast as you can make a ski boat go. I missed the smell of oil belching from the outboard engine as it started up. There is a smell to the water as the wind blows off the lake. Some people think it is heaven.
The first cottage was a “chance happening”. Your mother and I had driven to St. Anna to watch the older kids march in the Top Hats or the Elms Band or both in the Fireman Picnic Parade. Of course our kids were standouts. On the way home, Mom and I and I think Paul, stopped to look at a cottage that had been advertised in the Sheboygan Press. It was at the edge of a bay and the 60 feet of lake frontage was not all that attractive. The people selling the cottage had built it while he was employed at Kohler and it was crude to say the least. But it was priced right. $30,000. Having priced other properties, it was a fantastic price. We shook hands. This was mid-July. We closed on the property the first week in September, 1977. On the day of the closing, the previous owners said they had been offered $35,000 by a couple who looked at the property after us on that Sunday in July. Their comment was “a handshake seals a deal and they never waived in their commitment to us”. Whoa! Now we owned a cottage and had no clue what to do with it. Swim, fish, fry-out and sun-bath? Debbie would have been almost 17, Kelly 15, Chris 13 and Paul 5. Margaret was there. She just wasn’t born until October 21, 1977. So we had old kids, young kids and an unborn kid.
There was lots of excitement. Grampa George loved the idea of our cottage and ended up building us a raft the next year. Not any raft. A 10 foot square treated wood raft that got lots of use.
I guess the idea of a cottage went back to the childhood of your mom and I who lived in Plymouth but had friends whose families owned cottages. Also, all swimming lessions were conducted at the Crystal Isle Inn on Crystal Lake. It was a 15 minute bus ride from Plymouth to Crystal. I’d take the bus to the lake and then skip out of lessons and swim on my own. There were no city public swimming pools in Plymouth.
So when Memorial Day comes I get just a little nostalgic. Then I remember all the work that goes with ownership and I come back to my senses. I will say it was one of the best investments we every made. Cottages do not go down in value.
I remember Christopher seeing our new house on Wedgewood Drive. His first question “did I know what I was doing buying a bigger house”? The second question was “if you were going to spend more on a house, why wouldn’t you buy a place on a lake because it would be a better investment”? Maybe Chris’ observation was really good or maybe he was looking for a place to moor his new boat.
I’m sure every one in our family has good memories of Crystal Lake. It created a common interest. I’m sure there are many stories I haven’t heard. I invite your sharing your memories. There are no regrets on the “chance investment”.
Let the summer begin!
Love,
Dad

Many years ago, Mom, Margaret, and I attended Ryan Eisenhardt’s graduation from the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. We got the full tour of all the academic facilities and pagentry, history and honor were everywhere. The highlight of the occasion was just before the recognition of the graduates in the outdoor stadium and right after the National Anthem. There were four powerful jets in tight formation called the Blue Angels that did a low level fly over. Honestly, you could have reached up and touched the four planes flying in close formation. The ground shook from the power and as they passed, they kicked in more power and peeled away in different directions. If that doesn’t give you chills and choke you up, you aren’t paying attention.
Some of the “chills” goes back to my childhood. When I was 5-6 years old, my dad and uncle were in the Army and Air Force respectively. Their lives were at risk. It was World War II. They were part of “the greatest generation”. There was an ever present fear that your loved one might not return from the War and there were stories of many who never did. I remember gathering around the radio for War updates from announcer Gabriel Heater and drawing the shades when the sirens went off so that enemy aircraft could not see the lights of our communities. Erie!
Then after the War I remember the annual Memorial Day parade which came down Mill Street past the City Club tavern where we lived. The crowds were hugh. Bands, military equipment and marching Veterans. The parade went to the local cemetary where “war dead” were honored with speeches and a 21 gun salute. We as kids always scrambled to pick up the spent bullet cartridges for souvenirs. Memorial Day is always in the spring and everything smells fresh. Cut grass and flowers including my favorite blooming Lilacs.
There was no voluntary draft. If you were able, you served. Many good young people died. You’ve seen the movie “Saving Private Ryan”. It portrays the cruelty of War. Yet most who died understood their sacrifice and believed in the Freedom of the world and Home.
I get chills from Ray Charles singing “America the Beautiful”, Blue Angels jets buzzing a stadium and the famous fireman singing the National Anthem before special events after 9/11. I can’t help it. I know the sacrifices that were made for me, my family and future generations.
In the recent past, I attended a Badger football game honoring Ron Dayne for the great years he had while attending UW-Madison. Following the National Anthem four reserve air force jets flew over to commemorate the occasion. Yep, I got chills again.
Take a moment on Memorial Day to remember those who have given the ultimate sacrifice. The sacrifice was for you and me. To me it seems so close!
Have great weekend.
Love,
Dad

First, I’ve got to correct an error in my last blog. I said that son Paul was receiving a BS in Economics and Communication from from UW-Milwaukee last Sunday. Boy did I guess wrong. When I went to school a Bachelor of Arts was bestowed on cirriculums that had a foreign language. Paul did not take a foreign language. He got a Bachelor of Arts degree. Go figure. His actual degree was in Organizational Administration. I liked my Economics and Communication label better. Well today he is a graduate of the College of Letters and Science with a BAOA degree. That should clear that up. Pay attention, you’ll be tested on Friday.
Now my Cell rant. Cell phones allow telephone companies to charge outrageous prices for many services of questionable value. Could we live without this little device vibrating in our pocket at any hour of the day. No way! Would we miss the tune Yankee Doodle Dandy which plays from memory when Bubba calls from the local pub? You bet! Would we miss the secretive text message from Carla in the steno pool saying “I’ll meet you after work”? Are you kidding? She is a nymphomanic.
I have a cell phone. It is great to have when security is a problem. It can used to summon 911 assistance. Doctors are available instantaneously. I can think of a million clever positive uses for a cell phone and conclude that this is a great device.
But enough is enough. I have been in a restaurant with special people in the recent past. The guest has had a cell phone and he/she has not turned it off. So part way through the dinner, just about the time you are going to tell your guest you love them, their phone goes off. The guest answers, “how are they hanging Bubba”? “What’s up”.? Something really stupid. Usually the conversation is three times louder than most conversations in the restaurant and everyone at the table is embarrassed. Come on! Then there are more calls during lunch. 4-5 calls at least. Meanwhile all the people at the table have to listen to the personal conversation. Talk about rude.
Here is my bottom line. When you go to lunch/dinner with me and you answer a personal cell phone, you are at great risk. First of all, that cell phone may end up in some body location where the sun don’t shine. See how that feels when it vibrates to the next call. Second, you might just end up sitting alone and picking up the check because I won’t be there. You just told me that I wasn’t as important as the next call coming in. Especially when I pay for lunch, the least I should be able to expect is an your undivided attention.
Please turn off the cell phone in personal situations and make believe that being with someone special is important to you.
Now to end on a high note. How great is it that Paul’s son Dominic could call his dad “on a cell” in sea of 1800 graduates Sunday and exhange personal feelings. Really special!
Love,
Dad (just Chas.)

One of my favorite movies is “The Wizard of Oz”. You know where Dorothy and these three derelicks follow a yellow brick road in search of a trip back to Kansas, a brain, a heart, and some courage. Then in the end they all discover they had those things all along. What a lame plot. It takes two hours to tell the story and mid-way through, somebody finds the technicolor button. Come on! Who would watch such drivel? The answer is almost everybody because we all yearn for something. It is heartwarming to see the “Oz” characters achieve their “yearnings”. It also keeps the kids quiet on Saturday morning if you pop in the video.
My favorite son Paul, much like the “straw man” has been in quest of a diploma for a long, long, long time. The truth is he has always had the intellectual ability to succeed but he has needed to be formally acknowledged. Well, 32.88 years after he was born, Paul will march across the UW-Milwaukee stage on Sunday afternoon and receive his BS degree in Economics and Communication. I think I got the degree right. I know I got the BS right.
I have received lots of advice over the years on how to raise Paul. Be tough. Make him get a job. Quit bailing him out of different situations. Stop giving him money. I have news for you Grasshoppers. When kids reach a certain point in life, you lose control. The truth is I couldn’t make Paul do anything. Paul had to do it for himself.
I think for Paul, the reality of a degree opening doors came when he and Jenny moved back to Wisconsin from Minnesota. He needed to figure out a way to keep improving his skills and that meant going to school. He perfected his study skills, experienced a few successes and was on his way. He will tell you there is a universal way to solve problems, all problems and it has worked for him.
I know many of you believe that things are meant to be and will play out in their own predestined way. Maybe the years spent going to school allowed Paul to play Mr. Mom and get closer to Dominic and Tommy? Maybe his self-taught cooking ventures will inspire him to invent an indoor cooking grill? Maybe it brought him and Jenny closer? Stay tuned, it will play out.
I am going to miss the golf dates during the week, the daily blogs, and the endless questions.
As a dad I am very proud of Paul. He has achieved because of a dogged persistance for to get his degree. I know there were many moments of self doubt and I have to believe Jenny is thinking “finally”! But, you did it Paul. So I will be there on Sunday as your brother takes center stage. I will applaud the loudest. He is my son.
Love,
Dad

Wisconsin Vision has an outlet in Sheboygan. My favorite daughter manages the store along with a loyal band of quirky staff members.
If you’ve ever gone to Wisconsin Vision, you probably noticed the great customer service. They really do care about their customers. But with daughter Debs, their is always a wierd sense of humor, many chuckles and a way of making the world a little brighter. Heaven help anyone who bumps into a door or stubs their toe because the great service won’t start until the laughter stops. I said it was quirky.
Well several weeks ago, a lady came into the store to get her glasses fixed with her two year old daughter. While mom was having her glasses adjusted, her daughter slumped to the floor and she wasn’t breathing. There was nothing funny about this. Apparently the little girl was having a seizure. Debs remembered her CPR training from school and began “mouth to mouth”. 911 was called and it took 8 minutes for the EMT’s to arrive. The girl was rushed to the hospital and the story ends well. She will be alright. Her mother returned to the store to thank Debs.
There is some book that the female book-reading cult follows called “The five people you will meet in heaven” or something like that. The idea is that there are key people that affect your life in significant ways and you will meet them again in Heaven. Well I think the little girl will meet Debbie in Heaven.
As far as I know, there was no recognition by Wisconsin Vision to Deb and the staff for what they did. The local newspaper didn’t pick it up. Radio was silent. Come on!
But you see with a Blog, I can’t be silenced. I have this imaginary newspaper called the “Acewisdom Chronicles”. Debs makes the headlines of my newspaper which read “Child saved by quick action of Deborah Kay Andrews”. Debs, you are my hero. You are my front page story.
Now I should leave the story right now but I can’t resist because I know Debs quirky sense of humor. I propose that she put a sign behind the desk of Wisconsin Vision that says “if you faint when you see our bill, we’ll get you to the hospital in time”.
Love ya Debs.
Love,
Dad

John is 48 years old. He has cancer. He has the bad kind of cancer.
Things like this shouldn’t happen. John is one of the good guys. It all started with a tired feeling and a trip to the doctor for a check-up. He got a “clean bill of health”. He was probably working too hard. Then a few more months, still feeling bad and experiencing pain, a second trip to the doctor. This time they found the cancer, November 2004. It was everywhere. Not a localized tumor that they could remove, but throughout his body.
The radiation to reduce painfull tumors and chemo to attack the cancer throughout the body have all proved ineffective. The decision now is morphine to kill the pain.
You see, John is my ex-son-in-law. He and two precious grandsons are undeniable parts of our past. Whatever the reasons he and Kelly chose to live differently is not for me to judge but I know they are both good people. During this whole ordeal, Kelly and a supporting cast of friends have been there for John.
John has been a good friend since he entered our lives in 1986. I have seen John achieve his MBA after marrying Kelly and I have watched his career as they moved to Madison, Wisconsin.
John and I always seemed to have similar sports interests and I know he went out of his way to accommodate me at Badger football games. We nursed the Badgers to several Big 10 Championships and the special game was Ron Dayne breaking the all time NCAA rushing record in November 1999 at Camp Randall. It was 60 degrees.
John and Kelly had season tickets to the Badger basketball games. If I begged John enough, he would take me to see Gene Keady from Purdue and Bobby Knight from Indiana. The season tickets gained us the right to witness the NCAA Region Finals at the Kohl Center, I think in 2000. Kansas won.
Golf was about someplace nice each summer. Sentry World. The Bog. UW Ridge. Lawsonia. You get the idea. Being 6 foot 6 inches tall, John’s long swing gave him a big advantage. Long ball. Not always straight but disgustingly long.
And money. There were always long discussions on money. Of course John is tight. In fact “tight” is an understatement. When you look up the definition of “tight” in the dictionary, you’ll see John’s picture. John is better at saving money, I think I’m better at investing money after you’ve saved it.
I have always had this connection with John. He teased me about things he knew would bother me and I teased him likewise.
It is hard for me to give up on miracles. I keep hoping that the guru from a mountain top in Argentina will place his hands on John’s head and he will be healed. I keep hoping a miracle drug will appear and cure his cancer. Maybe he will drive into a magical fog bank and when he comes out, everything will be okay. So far, nothing!
But John’s legacy is sealed. He has oldest son Grant who spends most available moments with John. I’m sure their being together is enough regardless of the words spoken. And youngest son Mitchell knows his Dad’s situation but really doesn’t know what it all means. Two great boys with tons of potential. They will always make him proud.
So you see as John creates a trust for his boys, makes his own funeral arrangements and buys his own gravesite, it makes me angry to think this could be happening to a friend.
I know it is hard to understand God’s way and in the end, none of us gets out of this life alive, but what is happening to a good person is difficult. He is a friend. It comforts me to know he is surrounded by Kelly, sons, and good friends.
I have to admit Grasshoppers, I don’t have the answers to everything. I am just an observer of life trying to understand the ravages of cancer on a friend. Maybe enough prayers could turn the tide. It couldn’t hurt!
Love,
Dad

I do believe that a passion for something serves as the core of one’s being. If you love something or have enthusiasm for something it gives meaning to life. It also keeps kids busy!
After “Kelly’s Brass”, I’ve got to do “Margaret’s dance”. I don’t know if dancing was on Margaret’s radar screen when she was in elementary school but she tried piano, a band instrument and even a year of the “gossipy, clannish” cheerleading. Actually she was pretty good at all of them.
My memory says that Margaret’s mom pushed her into dance practice. I don’t remember whether she danced at age 7-8 in Sheboygan at the Diane Remy studio but Appleton provided Miss Marcia’s Dance Studio. It was just steady, grind it out practice of tap, jazz, modern dance, and ballet (I probably forgot one). I think there were times when Margaret didn’t even want to practice.
But then, there were the year end recitals. Two nights of dance routines by Miss Marcia’s students at the local high school auditorium. The year end extravaganza brought in close to 3,000 family and friends each night. Margaret beamed!
I remember that you could not take pictures or video tape any of the recital performances because Miss Marcia retained all rights. Margaret’s mom didn’t listen real well and went out and bought a small video camera that she could put in her purse. Once the recitals started, the video tape machine began while hidden in her lap. Yup, mom got it all on tape. I was embarrassed to sit with mom. I thought she might get arrested. In hindsight, they wouldn’t arrest a mom for “taping” her daughter would they.
And then there were the costumes. Margaret lived for the new creations. The flowers on recital nights. The excitement. Obviously the passion started to grow.
Margaret did performances around the area for different community groups and even mall engagements.
Slowly the sophistication of the dance began to grow. I know a select group of students went to several regional dance competitions in Chicago. I think Marica’s daughter Julie spearheaded the effort. As I recall, Margaret and Julie did a couple routines together. Margaret and friends won some of the competitions. There was also advanced instrution by professionals.
Dance lessons consumed 1-2 nights per week along with miscellaneous competitions. The ultimate compliment had to come when Miss Marcia asked Margaret to instruct the younger students. That added another night to the week. Margaret turned out to be an excellent teacher because she could empathize with the younger people. There was even one cute little student that turned out to be one of Margaret’s favorites named Shelby, the same name as her mom. A student named Shelby had to be special.
The confidence of Margaret grew because she knew she was good at dancing. The added benefit was she stayed in terrific shape. Until you’ve tapped, bounced and twirled your way around a dance floor for an hour, you can’t imagine the stamina that you need.
So like Kelly, Margaret had something that brought joy to her life. It provided a basis for many of the things she has accomplished.
I’ve seen too many movies over the years because I’ve always wanted Margaret to teach me a quick little tap dance step so that when I feel the joy of the world, I could just swipe my feet across the floor in a certain way, dance across the floor and impress those around me. Yeah, right!
It is this Dad’s fondest dream that Grasshopper No.5 again pursues the dance passion she once perfected. Life’s pressures sometime force things we love into the background but they are never forgotten. She is so good at it and loves it so much. I hope it resumes a prominent place in her life. May she dance the night away.
Love,
Dad

I started in my last entry talking about Kelly’s passion for the trombone. I will continue examining the issue of “passion” in future blogs. But Sunday is Mother’s Day, probably the most important day of the year. So here is my pass at Mother’s Day, 2005.
The one mother that I have watched for 45 years lives with me. No, she is not my natural mother, but she is the mother of my children. She is conditioned to nurture and encourage her kids forever. It is part of her fabric. We were at Paul’s abode recently and Tommy was harassing Dominic and it was Dominic’s birthday yet. Son Paul began to hand out discipline. He was calm. He was emphatic in his instructions. He was teaching. I watched you Mom’s face during the whole encounter and you could see she was following Paul’s thought process, step by step. She was also ready to offer advice to help Paul along! To improve the situation. For you see, that is what mother’s do. They try to instill their wisdom into their kids. I was proud of her. She let Paul do his own thing! Because she has done such a good job over the years, Paul did a great job.
I remember going to a seminar with your Mother at the American Club sponsored by my TEC business group. We had to draw a picture of our lives on paper. Mine had “some feely things” like marriage and having kids but the emphasis was on job/career related things. And your mother’s picture was centered around the birth of each and every child. Who would have guessed?
Each and every child brought something special into the family. Because the family continued to change, each child was born into something different. I do remember each birth. Debbie was born on a Monday, the day I started going to Marquette University to study engineering. Kelly was born on a Saturday during the Christmas holidays, Christopher was born on a Friday afternoon in West Allis, Wisconsin, Paul on a Thursday morning and Margaret on a Friday afternoon. It exhausts me to write it down. Imagine what it did to your mom.
Well, your mom has woven this neat family mosaic that features children and grandchildren and hope for the future. Each child has accomplished things in their own way and the mosaic emphasizes it. Mom’s pride makes up the background of the creation.
And along the way, Mom’s mom was there for each and every child. How special was that! Nana knew just what to do! She provided guidance and energy at key moments and I know that she was always proud of her own daughter.
So you see moms are special people. They cannot deny their basic nature. I cannot bestow accolades on my mother any longer because she is someplace better. But you can say thanks the the one person in your life that has never, and will never give up on you. Your Mom. Remember her!
Love,
Dad

Your mom and I saw the movie “Fever Pitch” this weekend starring Drew Barrymore and Jimmy Fallon. Fallon has a passion for the Boston Red Sox and from April until October, baseball is the first thing in life. Jimmy has to choose between going to Paris with his love Drew or staying home for a game with the New York Yankees. Drew or baseball. Drew or baseball. Drew or baseball. Let me see! I won’t tell you what Jimmy chose but you romantics won’t like the answer.
Well the passion for baseball got me thinking about my favorite daughter Kelly and her passion for the trombone. You know, that brass wind instrument with a sliding tube. Kelly may not admit it but it shaped her life. I don’t know if it was coincidence that Kelly’s mom played the trombone in high school or that maybe her mother’s influence caused her to pursue playing it. Only Kelly knows.
It began innocently enough. She practiced and played and pretty soon she was in the North High School band. I think we bought the first trombone on time waiting to see how commited she was to the instrument. Pretty soon she was competeing for “first chair” against all the guys. If you know Kelly that was like war because she could play as well as any male counterpart. Darn right!
Then somewhere along the line Kelly became aware that she had a rather cheap horn. So for Christmas she begged as only she could for a special horn she had seen at the local music store (I can’t remember the name). Kelly’s memory is vague on the cost but being a “numbers freak” I remember exactly. The horn was $750. We finally agreed that she would pay half and we would pay $375 as a Christmas present. We had one happy kid. I think her version is she paid of it. Let me say no other Grasshopper got a $375 Christmas gift.
It was worth every penny. She babied the horn. It led to a Dixieland band at North High School. Yes, I did attend several upbeat Dixie presentations.
Then there was a quintet of trombonists that played Chrismas music in different Churches in Sheboygan. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Yes I even went to church to listen. I think Mr. Hawke, the band director organized the group.
I recall a guy named Pat Schultz. He played trombone at South Sheboygan High School. The competition was intense. Even as nieve as I am, there was a crush on this guy named Pat. I think Kelly invited him to a dance at North High.
Between Kelly’s junior and senior year she went to Germany for two weeks. Imagine the trombone as the ticket to touring Europe. I’m sure we participated in a major way on Kelly’s trip financially. Her take is that she probably had to pay for it herself.
And then it was off to Madison where she would tryout for the marching band. My thought was “that’s nice”. We had no idea that the marching band was a focal point for most campus events and that it did presentations at football games. What a surprise! For Kelly it was a new instant family of 220 fellow band members. Again the horn was her ticket to involvement and success.
The Madison years were great. We attended many football games with Nana and Grandpa. Many games. We would come down early, spend time at the South Union, watch the Pep Rally outside the Union and then “high step” our way to Camp Randall. We would pick out Kelly on the football field with binnoculars, stay for the fifth quarter and many times follow her to Baskum Hill as they marched out of the stadium. I remember a rain storm where we stood with Grampa George under the stadium and said that maybe we should leave without seeing Kelly in the “fifth quarter” because of the weather. You had to see his face. We didn’t leave and we stood in the rain watching Kelly.
And today? Kelly goes back to play in the alumni band occassionally at football games but the great part is that alumni are invited to play when the normal band members are short at basketball games and hockey games. She plays. She takes Mitchell and Grant. Mitchell for sure dances to the music as mom blows her brass instrument. Ain’t that a cool mom.
Which brings me down to my theme of passion. Kelly, whether she has thought about a lot or not, has always had a passion for the trombone and excels at it. Hell, she was one of the early female trombone players in the marching band. The passion has been good to her. It has created great opportunities. It was a catalyst for family events. It was a source of great satisfaction.
I think everybody ought to have a passion such as Kelly’s trombone in their life. It gives meaning to life.
Go Kelly, go!
Love,
Dad

The mass of investors buying stock every day do it on emotion. They got a tip at a party. Or somebody at work says “my broker is E.F.Hutton and he says” to buy a certain stock. Mercy!
When buying a stock you are buying actual ownership of the company represented. You own a small piece of the action. If the company is successful, the stock will rise accordingly and you will get rich (the proper representation is rewarded, possibly rich). The question is how do you decide which company to buy?
Imagine if you can, that you had enough money to buy any company you wanted and that you would own 100% of all the stock. “Make believe” that you become the CEO (chief executive officer) and will direct the company. It is yours. You can build it, mold it, treat employees as you’d like to be treated and pass the company on to those ungrateful little offspring that feel they are entitled to everything. That last comment wasn’t necessary but it felt good.
If you are spending big bucks to buy a company, you would want great products. You would want products with potential for good growth. You would want a marketplace that was expanding. You would want stong profits with opportunity to improve them. Of course as CEO, you would want to be rewarded for the risk you are taking in buying the company. Big salary!
Buying stock is just that simple. Of course you are only CEO in your mind, but you look for potential of markets, products and profits. You also should take a long term perspective of 10 years or more.
So in my mind, I imagine what companies I would be proud to own. I love Johnson and Johnson. It makes bandages, aspirin, and baby powder. It makes stents for artery reconstruction. What is not to like? It helps people. It grows at 12-15% per year. It pays 2% dividends and has increased dividends for 25 years straight. It is international and 2 billion Chinese will soon benefit from my products. I would be proud to collect my $3,000,000 per year salary and then get my $10,000,000 bonus. Because I would be a benevolent dictator, I’d share my success with my employees. Johnson and Johnson passes my CEO test. I’d love to run it. I’d buy the stock.
There are some companies that are profitable and would be fun. Hershey Chocolate! Disney! ebay! Google! They pass my CEO test. When somebody would say to me “what do you do for a living”, I could respond with I’m CEO of Hershey. Women would swoon at my feet?
You get the idea. Follow the money. Profits and more profits. Opportunity to grow products and profits. Forget the emotional bullshit. If you can feel you’d be proud to own a company and to become it’s CEO, then it probably is a good stock.
Even good companies fail in our worldly environment of uncertainty but good companies represent opportunity to navigate the rough waters.
Good stocks picks could make you rich. One lady profiled in Money magazine had continued to buy Schering Plough stock over her lifetime. With all the splits and growth, she left her nieces and nephews $9,000,000 when she died at age 91. Her failing was that she was frugal. She got her coats at the Salvation Army. Come on! The fun of making money is to spend some of it. It her case she lost perspective but she demonstrated what picking a good company can do.
Actually you are the CEO of your own life. I will save that dissertation for another day.
Love,
Dad(Just Chas.)