April 13, 2008

Keep in mind that this column about the national economy was written by a man who is not allowed anywhere near his own family’s finances. My wife and I could be millionaires or parked at the poor-farm gate, and I wouldn’t know the difference.

I relinquished control of our finances 30 years ago when I punctuated one of our monthly financial shouting matches with the poorly timed taunt: “And I suppose you could do better?”

We haven’t shouted about money since.

We have agreed that I am allowed to attend the closing of any mortgage transaction, where I ask questions that make everyone’s eyes roll and sign whatever papers are shoved in front of me. And I’m allowed to make impulsive decisions about my monthly allowance at the hardware store. But other than that, I don’t do diddly with the dinero. (I suspect many of you guys should convert to this same worry-free system.)

But let’s move on to the financial advice. A few noted economists say that America is in — or near — a recession. Oh, dear me.

A recession is defined by some experts as two or more successive calendar quarters when a decline is seen in the gross domestic product. In the fourth quarter last year, GDP growth was a paltry 0.6 percent. The first-quarter GDP rate will be announced on April 30. Former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan has said this financial crisis will be “the most wrenching since the end of the Second World War.”

While politicians and federal bean counters wrestle with solutions, I’ve got a recommendation for the rest of us. Talk this over with older people, a group that for some reason I find getting smaller and smaller. My father, who passed away in 1999, was my favorite older person. He was one of the most forward-thinking people I’ve known. For example, he embraced the Internet at the age of 84, and instead of shrinking with fear, he frolicked online with gusto. A second factor made him a worthy consultant. Each of us was 36 when our sons were born, so I knew that every time I looked at my son, my father had confronted a similar sight in me.

Senior survivors show the way

If he were still alive, Dad would be 95. I still talk to him on occasion, indirectly. You probably know people in their 90s. Talk to them about recessions, and their stories will likely resemble these:

* Using the definition described above, my father lived through seven recessions. People who are in their 90s today    have lived through eight, including the dot-com collapse in 2001-2003.

* Like many people who are in their 90s today, my father was too young to serve in World War I and too old for       World War II, but look at what happened six days after his 17th birthday: On Oct. 29, 1929, the stock market    crashed. “Black Tuesday” signaled the end of the Roarin’ Twenties. Tough times for the 17-year-old were just    beginning.

* Imagine turning 21 four years into a decadelong Depression, as my father did in 1933. Consider how tough it must  have been starting a career, and later a family. No time for anyone to whine. They were all too busy just getting by.

* As if the Depression weren’t tough enough for all Americans, factor in the Dust Bowl of 1930-1936. No wonder my father was dynamiting for oil in the jungles of South America. You took work wherever you could find it.

* Just about the time my father finally got control of his financial life, a post-Korean War recession arrived in 1953, when he was 40. He and my mother had three children younger than 7. Americans pressed on. They had no choice.

* When my father was 61 and pondering retirement, OPEC quadrupled oil prices. A 1973 recession was rooted in the very industry in which he worked. His pay was cut and retirement was delayed, but he was lucky to have a job.

* As he was retiring, another recession arrived in 1980. Again, bad timing.

* In his late 70s, my father saw his seventh recession in 1990.

What do we learn from talking to older people about recessions? Our main lesson is that their road has been a lot rougher than the one we travel today. And if my 401(k) takes a haymaker to the jaw, well, it’ll hurt for awhile, but only figuratively.

Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, it’s far better to find motivation in the survival instincts of older Americans.