Full disclosure: me and my wife have a fair amount of debt. Like “first generation that will do worse than its parents did” debt. You can read all about why in various places. Down economy. Large discrepancy between the 1% and the rest of us, enormous student loan debts, etc.
But we’re buying a house.
And we’ve decided not to have children. Some people still give us more flack than I think is fair for that. I mean sure, everyone gets an opinion, but the fact of the matter is that we live in a world where it’s not like it once was. At one point in history I’d have needed kids to help the family farm or whatever business survive. That’s not the case anymore. And in the case of me and Julie– we’re just a little too old and a little too in debt and we spend way too much time devoting our energies to helping people who need us.
The sad truth: I’d be a bad mentor if I was a father. I’d give all my attention to my kid and not to my students.
But I’ve started getting a new variation on the “why don’t you want to have kids” thing.
It’s “who will you leave your house to?”
And I find it sort of hilarious, because it makes all sorts of assumptions about why we buy and own things, what we do with our belongings when we die, etc.
Ready for the rude answer?
First, the obvious one. If I die first, Julie gets my stake in all our stuff. Duh. I haven’t literally asked her yet, but I’m guessing that’s mutual.
If she’s dead, too, or when she dies…
I know, I know, this is going to sound gruff…
but I don’t really care who gets our house.
I mean sure, I think we should will it to someone. I don’t mean recklessly that I don’t care about our property. But we’re not living in some polyanna world where we bought a house to give to the next generation of Alexanders and will feel crushed of there aren’t children to perpetuate the use of our home. We’re buying our house so we can have a home and not be at the mercy of a slumlord. For us. We wanted to live our lives here, together.
We aren’t buying it for an unknown generation. This isn’t an investment in anything but our futures.
I said this to a slightly older friend and was met with disbelief.
I think this is one of the weird places where I, the usually sentimental long-term planning optimistic and hopeful person wins the pragmatics lottery. There’s a whole narrative about buying stuff for others, building equity for our families. There’s also the idea of a kid being your legacy, the way you leave your mark.
And that could very well be for some people. I’m glad the Gates family had William. I’m glad Obama was born in his evil genius bunker in Kenya (right, Mr. President Trump, sir?). I’m glad my mom and dad had me, and that the Platts had Julie.
But I don’t feel like my legacy depends on having a kid. If anything, it would be the ultimate in selfishness for me to have a child, given that I might have to will my house to Sallie Mae to get out of my student loan debt. I couldn’t give a child a safe life, and I could never explain things like why our President is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs.
But because of that, and maybe because of my understanding of how my ancestors viewed property, I don’t really care about what happens to my things when I’m gone. The sentimental part of me would want them to go to people who would love them and enjoy them in the ways that I have, but I think the hardest part of being human is understanding that it ends. I don’t want to pretend I have designs for what happens when that time comes. I’d rather live in the now and enjoy it for what it is.
Julie and I bought a house for us, for my mother, for our dogs.
When we’re all gone… why would it matter to any of us who “gets” it? What sort of person makes major life decisions contingent upon who gets their property when they die? I know it’s not exactly this, but that’s somewhere in the wheelhouse of trying to die with the most toys. Oooh, can I do that? That sounds like fun. Well, not the dying part. Can I not die until I have obtained the most toys?
Until then, though, kindly stop telling us how to live our lives, those of you who keep doing that. You don’t see me passing judgment on how you live, do you? That’s because it’s rude, and as long as we have freedom in America, we all have our choice as to how we spend our lives. If I want to spend $200 on a toy, guess what? I’m a grown ass man and I made that money using the skills I’m insanely indebted to the government and various banks for. If I want to buy a $15 coffee drink because I’m curious about it, I’mma do it. Because I make my own decisions.
And if I want to make what some people consider a family investment just for the generation of my family that I live in and with, I’m going to do that, too. You’re not living my life. You weren’t there fixing the problems or pulling me over the pits and snares of the battlefield. Don’t try to act like you were, like you have the right. Because you know what?
You don’t.
If I don’t ask, spare me. I’ll do you the same courtesy.
Grown. Ass. Man.