“Any houses that big in Costa Rica, Uncle?” Sid asks.
“Oh yah. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Some quite wealthy people live down there and lots of very poor people as well, you know, by material standards.”
Sid nods thoughtfully. All around the world, then, some have big houses and many have small houses, no matter where. The people of Costa Rica have the same big-house small-house layout as right here in Saskatchewan. Two far apart places with the same arrangement. Maybe the hard core of human nature demands things be this way.
They pull in to Shellbrook Turbo. While Sid is filling the tank, and Uncle Nick and Ryan are in the store, Franco pulls his rig in along the side of the highway to let Andy step out. Sid waves at Franco’s children peering out the window as they pull away, and Andy makes his way across the grassy ditch.
Sid pops the trunk, throwing all the baggage in to make room for the four of them. They pull out on the highway, glimpsing Franco’s unit disappearing over the rises in the distance ahead.
“You guys are still drinking.” Ryan squints at Andy. The aroma of a brewery pervades the air in the car.
“Just a couple Sunday morning beer, you know, to get a guy through. I like your Pilsner.” Andy gives a haggard grin.
“You guys were so wild last night,” says Ryan. “I thought you were gonna sit down right in the fire and poof … a smoke signal.”
“Yes, well … it was quite a party,” Andy looks down. “Hey, Franco says he’s coming to meet Robert.”
“So my brother’s goin’ to California.”
“He talks like he’s coming soon,” says Andy.
“Hey Andy, you’ll have to give my greetings to Loli and your brother and sister … and John too,” says Uncle Nick. “I’ll probably come through L.A. early next year … tell your mom to call me if she wants.”
“I will do that, Uncle Nick.”
###
They all sit quiet as they slow to turn south into the hilly bush lands, watching Franco’s rig continue on to disappear over the last rise.
“Did any of you guys talk to Amy?” Sid starts. “She has this television hero.”
“Yah, women!” says Ryan.
“Well, her hero is this Jessica. She just goes to San Francisco and watches airplanes. All her problems fade away.”
“Wish I could do that,” says Andy. “Sounds like some Hollywood show. But she did say she’d like to come down to California too.”
What are the chances of finding real happiness in a television show Sid wonders. Anyone should be able to live a vicarious life through the euphoria of the screen, imaginary or not. There is a real possibility, but it must be one well tested by a lot of people.
“You know, maybe it’s like having a favourite spot, a place where everything can be OK,” says Uncle Nick. “Lots of people really want that I think. It gives them a rest. I find it up in a jet airliner sometimes.”
“Yah, some people find it in shopping malls,” says Sid.
“Women!” says Ryan.
“I dunno. Looks like Franco does some shopping. New truck, new boat. Camper trailer. Your brother is one successful man, hey Ryan,” says Sid.
“My brother’s a shithead.”
“We were talking about how a person can be rich,” Sid informs Nick. “When we went out fishing that first day.”
“Oh yes, well, maybe Franco wants to have even more, though, maybe he doesn’t see himself as successful yet,” says Nick. “What do you think, Andrew? How about your brother, does he have any aspirations, any heroes?”
“Oh yes,” Andy looks out the window. “And they’re all listed in Forbes.”
When does business success ever arrive? Grandpa was surely successful, but some people still want more than Grandpa ever came close to. Success then is to endlessly strive for the top, to gaineth the whole world. Sid has joined that struggle intermittently, he could join again. Could it be the answer, if he just focused harder, or is it but a pile of wet sand, collapsing as it dries? For what shall it profit a man …?
“What if you just get a job, work hard and don’t sweat it.” Sid speculates. “Ralf seems to do OK.” The hard working family man like Ralf has it made in a way. Why worry when all the money is spent? He pays the bills in whatever way he does, and seems just fine.
“Work hard,” Ryan grins. “Like me.”
“Well, maybe, but I’ve read that people on their death bed rarely wish they’d worked more,” says Uncle Nick. “You do have to be busy at something. But for most contracts I had, the corporations I worked for rarely had the same values and interests I did. And what if you work your butt off, gain wealth and then get hit by a bus?”
“So a life of hard work isn’t necessarily a meaningful life,” says Sid.
“And I can tell you driving a Porsche doesn’t give you much,” says Andy.
“So money doesn’t make you happy for sure,” Sid observes. “And working hard, if it’s all to have money to buy a Porsche is no guarantee to make you happy either.”
“Franco says having money never hurt anyone,” says Ryan. “And what if you win a million?”
Sid recalls his bank account … the echoes of empty feelings.
“Do you guys think Grandpa was rich?” says Sid. “I mean he moved out of the horse barn onto his own piece of land. He had a house, a car and lots of grain money in the bank.”
“Yes, I think Dad did really well,” says Uncle Nick. “A lot better than he would have back in the Old Country. He did give a good start to us, his kids.”
“So if he was an atheist, how did Auntie Teresa ever get so religious?” says Sid. “Anyways, she was telling me how you can do better, but more like in the eyes of Jesus.”
“Ahh, the church is crazy,” says Ryan.
“She must really believe,” says Andy. “I mean, you would have to.”
“Yah, but if you do,” says Sid, “it’s almost like you have a whole different way of being successful.”
A person with faith could invest entirely in the next world by how they live in this one. High risk though, ‘cause what if there is no next world? Yet Sid can’t deny his own God evidence. A series of investments in being a good person might be the most prudent portfolio to carry.
“That would take a leap of faith,” says Uncle Nick.
“She told me bible stories, there’s this woman who gave away everything she had when she had almost nothing, and this letter about how true life is giving and sharing, and I’m sure you guys heard about the camel going through the eye of a needle,” says Sid. “Rich people have a tough time getting through the gates.”
They all settle into their own thoughts. But it always comes back to this for Sid, he hasn’t had a drink for years now, and AA tells him that wouldn’t be possible without a Higher Power. No question, sober is a better way to live; he knows that – there has to be a God of some kind. So if there is a God, the religious people must know something or other. Sid’s future investment portfolio, high risk or not, has to include a little generosity and a kind deed or two. Or maybe more than a little. Maybe more than a few.
###
They pull in to Saskatoon airport and all step out of the car into the wind.
“So you coming over, Uncle Nick?” says Ryan. “We can cook you up some venison burgers.”
“Sure.” Uncle Nick agrees.
“Give us a ride to my place, Sid?” Ryan questions.
“Yah, no problem.” Sid grabs the California cousin by the shoulder. “It was sure good to meet you, Andy, and the visit was great.” He opens the trunk to get Andy’s bags.
“Hey, it was really cool for me too,” Andy lets a deep breath out slowly. “It’s like I have two homes now.”
They all stand around the parking lot, exchanging last minute comments, until Andy has to catch his flight. He heads over to the terminal entrance, swaying as he turns to wave a final salute before he enters.
They’re extra silent then. Ryan gives directions to his apartment
. They pull up in front of a bright new building. Ryan hops out to get Nick’s bags, calling out he’ll just throw them into his own car. Sid’s eyes widen when he sees his uncle looking at him intently.
“You know, Sid, you asked what happened back then and I never did have a chance to finish,” he says carefully. “I owe it to you and everyone else, I guess I waited too long … well Ksandra’s drowning … there’s more to it, I can tell you that much.” He presses his lips tightly together. “But I really have to talk to Loli first …”
Sid stares, speechless.
“You coming Uncle Nick?” Ryan pokes his head in the car.
“Sorry Sid,” Uncle Nick’s eyebrows furrow. “Look, we can talk again,” he swings himself out of the Fairmont. “Let’s go for deer burgers, Ryan.”
Sid sits a moment, hand up waving, but there is nothing to do but pull away from the curb. He watches Ryan and Uncle Nick walk up the sidewalk to the apartment. He grabs his city map, focusing on a route out to Rosetown.
###
On the highway, the trees are becoming noticeably smaller.
Sid nudges up the window to adjust his basic air conditioning as he passes the potash mines. He takes a deep breath, recalling his dream of the sultan who owns a kingdom of land, land like these blowing grain fields. He slows as he approaches Rosetown and pulls up to where the lights show a red. As the green comes, he makes out a big fellow ahead with extended thumb.
The broken toothed grin lights up as the fellow squeezes his knees in front of the dash. “Hi.”
“Hey, unbelievable to see you again. How far you going now?” says Sid. “I’m on my way back to Calgary.”
“Turn off past Barney’s; I’ll let you know.”
Sid glances down at the gym bag again on the seat between them. What was he wondering about that bag, his mind is so full, he can’t help talking of the weekend.
“Well, I found cousin Andrew. And the rumour is true; Auntie Lola definitely lives in a big house. But Andy talks like it’s his father’s house, not his.”
“The rich ones hang on to their stuff pretty tight.”
“Yah. Well we know how Auntie Lola got rich. She just married Uncle John and his big house,” says Sid. “But then she’s her own housemaid for years, taking care of the place. And Andy thinks that’s why she dropped out of the family, ‘cause big house people only hang out with other big house people.”
The big fellow stretches his jaw sideways.
“So maybe she’s not totally happy with the bargain. Andy doesn’t seem all that happy,” Sid looks over. “He’s made friends with a certain white crystal, and a lot of the bottle, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh yah.” The hitchhiker scratches his stubbly cheek.
“Then my Uncle Harry wasn’t even there. He’s still drinking his face off. Hey you ever buy a lottery ticket?”
“Couple times.”
“My cousin Ryan lives for them. I mean I suppose if you win it could be great. Doesn’t cost much for the ticket, but what if you spend everything on them? Everyone wants that million. ‘Cause it would make everything just fine.”
“My uncle won a big one. He paid off the mortgage on the house and went to Hawaii once,” says the hitchhiker. “Otherwise nothing changed. He kept his job as a mechanic. He gets a lot of respect around town that way.”
“Really? I think Ryan would just spend it all, ‘cause that’s what he does now with his paychecks. On the other hand, he’s got a lot of freedom living the way he does. He buys whatever he wants and credit cards cover any problems. You have credit cards?”
“Nah.”
“Well, Ryan doesn’t worry about money at all ‘cause he just never thinks about it. It’s like the freedom people want, a wealthy lifestyle without worry. If he dies soon with lots of debt on his cards, the credit companies lose.”
“Maybe he won’t die soon.”
“Yah, then maybe it’s a problem.” Sid laughs. “Then maybe the bill collectors come to visit more often. That would be a hassle.”
“Sounds like stress.”
Sid glances at the big guy. He wasn’t supposed to talk so much, but … “Maybe an attitude adjustment would work for him. My Uncle Nick was trying to tell him a few things. My Uncle Nick lives a life that’s almost split in two. He’s been a hard worker, but he doesn’t stick with it, ‘cause he keeps coming up with other ideas he has to try out. He lives in a place right now where pure life is the thing. Yah, pura vida he calls it. He tells us about this guy that lives in a shack, but he’s one of the happiest people. For Uncle Nick, I don’t think money is the way to be rich.”
The big fellow turns to look intently, and Sid sees a face of understanding.
“I don’t think my Uncle Nick is completely happy, though. Maybe that’s a blessing ‘cause it keeps him searching, maybe the search gives him satisfaction.”
“Here’s the corner … right up ahead. I gotta get out here.”
Sid lets off the gas, gradually slowing down to a gravel road turn off.
“What’s really in the bag?” Sid remembers. “If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Nah. Not much in it, really. Just a lot of memories, kinda like a photo album. Everything I owned fit in this bag when I made my break, you know, when I started paying attention to the more important things in life. So what I did with my life is kind of in here.”
Sid frowns, looking at the old beat up bag.
“You know what I mean,” says the hitchhiker, looking at Sid closely, then stepping out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Yah,” says Sid. “Thank you.”
###
Later, the evening sky begins a trade as the sun falls closer to its short summer dip while city lights start their feeble attempt to replace Mother Nature’s illumination. Sid turns from the last secondary highway to join the post-long-weekend traffic force on the divided primary surging back towards the city lights.
He needs to get back into the daily routine, now. But how will he ever forget this weekend. Time to get his new investment strategy in order. Time to decide who will be his advisor. The sultan will have to find what fills the void, something in addition to the gold and silver and bankbook.
Chapter 8
The beleaguered heat of early fall shimmers up from the black highway as harvesting combines fly past his window. The reality of summer is now an illusion on its knees, with grasshoppers’ listless leaps signing closing year-end contracts. Now comes the time of smiling ants.
Looming up along the asphalt edge, the words Welcome to Saskatchewan leap out from their wood-carved background. A tall pretty woman stands below the sign, a leather suitcase leaning against her leg.
He stretches over to open the passenger door. “Where you going?”
“Saskatoon.” She stares in, flipping her long red hair back over her shoulder. “University Campus.”
“Hop in, then. I’m going into the city.”
She lifts her suitcase over the bucket seat, and steps up into the van. He checks his side mirror, and then speeds back into parallel with the dashed white centreline.
“You getting back to classes or something?”
“Precisely. Third year Business.”
“Business. Hmmm, that could be interesting.”
“A career decision.” The tall one glances back, looking around. “Nice décor, I see you have all the accoutrements of a small accommodation.”
“Right, welcome to my home.”
She frowns deeply. “You must have a house as well.”
“Not at the moment.”
The potential he saw in this Econoline when he was shopping for a Fairmont replacement now plays a trump hand in his new trial investment strategy.
“What could possibly motivate you to live in such a manner?”
My spiritual awakening, he thinks, what my family says or doesn’t say, my Uncle Nick. Then he starts the rational explanation, one he often tries on himself. “Well, I had this house, but it was too
big, so I sold it and moved into an apartment in Okotoks just out of Calgary. You know, small town living. Then this spring I moved from the apartment into the van, you know, living out on the road.”
“Did you experience a cutback, or a downsize?”
“Oh, no, I’ve still got my job. I did all this by choice. My Uncle Nick tries out different ways of living … he says there’s something even better than happiness when you look for it, if you can find the right lifestyle. And chasing after money isn’t gonna do it, if you really want to be satisfied.”
Seeking to appease the little voice within, as it wouldn’t shut up, Sid had finally ceded to a few extra changes. The voice, sneaking up on him at times like when he was sleeping, patiently demanded he know alternate riches, those not including financial assets, through personal experience. An outline of the overall plan, triggered by family reunion insights, had been nailed solidly onto an inner billboard. He tried to ignore it, to paint it over, even to throw rocks at it, until he finally gave in to the persistent message.
The tall one doesn’t sound like she’s blessed with the same kind of voice.
“You could be suffering some type of delusion,” she says. “Would that be plausible? For example, when I finish business school, I plan to buy a large house with a double garage for my new cars. Maybe a husband, maybe not. General consensus calls it getting ahead.”
Sid looks at her. With a little research, he came up with a target asset mix for his portfolio, something to ground finances around. Simplified, it’s a number based on a fairly straightforward question, a question perhaps asked by many – but certainly not all. If the people of the world shared everything, like they were told to in the kindergarten sandbox, what would the world look like? His financial planner never once, even vaguely, suggested shooting for this type of target. But then not everyone went to kindergarten.
“Yah, well I did have a house … ahhh … so you’re studying business, I mean I guess you could call what I’m doing a business plan, it’s just a different kind of investment strategy. I’m living at average global income.”
“Strategy? As I was saying, everyone looks for a higher standard of living, not a lower one.” She looks at Sid, shaking her head. “What is your target outcome, downward mobility?”
“Yah, I know it might not make a lot of sense right to start, but you know, there have already been some benefits.”