The Weed Puts Down Thick Roots

Somebody, somewhere, must have written a knock-off of the "Ugly Duckling" story, one involving a plant that everybody took to be a weed, but that turned out to be an alluring blossom. If not, perhaps I'll write one — a sort of metaphorical autobiography (albeit, perhaps unduly optimistic).

In the most (knowingly) risky financial move of my life, my growing family is extending its roots more deeply in Rhode Island. Rather than continue to write checks for rent that is, essentially, the mortgage payment for the house in which we live, we thought it best to grab the low interest rates and pay our own mortgage instead. Thanks to a 0% down loan and a little up-front help from family, and barring unforeseen problems, June 2004 will be the last month in which my wife and I are not home owners.

Although the decision has an undertaste of recklessness, against the significant financial risk must be weighed the risk of living in an old house about which I've many health concerns — soon with two girls, a fiddling two-year-old and a newborn — that somebody else must be pushed to maintain. Another counterbalance is the monthly drain of almost as much money through rent to no accumulating purpose. How hopeful it will be to view our largest monthly expenditure as an investment rather than an expense. How refreshing it already is to know that any work done to improve our living space will have the added benefit of improving the investment!

This morning, I went to the house for its inspection, and no big-ticket problems came to light. Everything is in great condition, considering our price range, and the inspector, while checking the roof, confirmed what I had suspected: a second floor will one day have a water view.

This afternoon, I came across Edward Achorn's column in the Providence Journal suggesting that the state in which I'll soon own property is, itself, a fixer-upper:

THE JUNE 2004 issue of Bloomberg Wealth Manager warns well-to-do people, once again, to avoid what the publication calls "tax-hell Rhode Island."

Indeed, Rhode Island is the worst place in the country -- ranked 51 among 50 states and the District of Columbia -- for people who wish to keep some of their wealth. ...

Rhode Island does a good job of splitting apart loved ones. Because its tax and regulatory structure chokes off new jobs, children often must move out of state for work. And because it is one of the worst places for retirees, elders often move far away, taking their spending power with them.

But this evening, Ramesh Ponnuru granted me a much needed draft of hope by rattling a cup on my behalf. Therein lies the tenor or my metaphor (although I smile to express something so dopey yet so pretentious): the seed from a way of thinking that thrives elsewhere blown by life's circumstances to foreign, often hostile, land.

Well, Rhode Island, I'm here to stay. Best get used to me — us. We may be weeds to your eyes, but we'll bring health to the state, even if you've defined illness as proper.

ADDENDUM:
Regarding the literary merits of this post: Hey, whaddaya want? It's been an unusually busy day, and after a long weekend...