Published: October 10, 2008 12:03 pm            

It’s simple: If you can’t afford it don’t buy it

Years ago, I tried to teach my nephew not to stomp in mud puddles if he wasn’t prepared to walk in wet shoes. While evidence that he didn’t quite get the message hangs on my office wall, the adorable image of a 3-year-old gleefully consumed by the lure of muddy water on a fall day in Bramwell never fails to make me smile.

Matt and I attended a bake-off on the damp afternoon in the quaint home of historic millionaires. On the way back to the Jeep, he found the puddle and commenced to stomp before I could catch the little hand that would have allowed me to reel the rest of him in. To be honest, he was having so much fun sending tiny brown showers flying around his shoes, I didn’t put up much of a fight. Once the puddle was pounded dry, he reluctantly submitted to be buckled in for the trip home.

Along the way, he realized just how uncomfortable cool socks and soaking shoes can be on a day none too warm to start. Before we even cleared Bramwell, the pitiful, whining pleas for new, clean, blissfully dry shoes began.

Matt, used to getting his way with most of the grown-ups in his little world, probably never doubted he’d go home with a new pair of kicks on his puddle-stomping feet. So, he was understandably floored when I responded that I’d be happy to stop and shop for shoes, as long as he had the money to pay for them.

My statement met with the silent confusion of a little boy stunned. The idea that he should pay for something was literally unheard of for him, particularly since he really hadn’t learned that money doesn’t grow on trees and grown-ups don’t have the green thumbs to grow a cash crop.

Since then, there have been many times when I’ve nixed Matt’s purchase proposals, telling him I don’t have enough money to buy out the Wal-Mart toy department, even if he really does need the newest Cars couch, Diego rescue center and a six-shooter set right out of the westerns. He still doesn’t understand why I won’t buy a treehouse kit on a lark or dig into my piggy bank for that dirt bike he has to have, while a fourwheeler, battery-operated truck and a bike collect dust in the garage.

Recently, I realized I may have used the old money management line just a little too much when he started a request for a McDonald’s Happy Meal with, “Now, I don’t know if you have enough money to pay for it, but ...”

That, of course, made me feel like a heel as I headed for the counter with cash in hand.

But, as the seemingly endless headlines of financial collapse and stock markets full of scared investors hit us hourly, I’ve been thinking recently that maybe we all ought to think a little more like Matt did with the Happy Meal.

If we don’t have the money to pay for it, we shouldn’t buy it, and if banks can’t afford to take a risk on a loan, they shouldn’t lend it.

I don’t claim to be a financial wizard capable of seeing into the future or planning a platinum portfolio, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out we shouldn’t charge caviar if we’re living on a Chicken McNugget salary.

The same goes for houses, cars, clothes, shoes and even toy six-shooters.

There’s no doubt Americans are in for some tough times ahead. The stock market sinks deeper daily, while the prices on our grocery store shelves and gasoline pumps unfortunately don’t follow suit.

Our 401K’s are no doubt dwindling, and somehow, energy companies are claiming a fuel shortage despite the fact that we’re using less than we have in years because of their soaring prices. Unfortunately, we are living in times when every penny starts to take on a new meaning, and discretionary spending is shrinking.

It’s scary stuff.

But, Americans have also gotten a little soft. We’ve gotten used to the idea that we can borrow what we can’t afford, charge the costs we can’t pay and count on someone else to pick up our shoes when our piggy banks are empty. Those are practices we’ll just have to shelve for a while.

Much like Matt danced through the mud without a care, we’ve enjoyed the trips paid for with plastic, ridden the waves of high-risk loans and stomped through a few precarious purchasing puddles along the way.

Now, we may just have to keep trudging along in our wet socks and soaking shoes until sunnier financial days arrive.

Tammie Toler is Princeton Times editor. Contact her at ttoler@ptonline.net.

        

• Click to discuss this story with other readers on our forums.