Breaking the Silence
There wasn't much talk
about money in my family. When I was 18, one of the trusts
left to me in my mother's will came under my control,
and my grandfather and his lawyer immediately whisked
me off to New York where they had me, with only a little
explanation, sign the money over to an irrevocable trust
(with both of them as trustees). When I finally told my
grandmother (on the other side of the family) about it,
she said that I had made a big mistake, that it was my
mother's wish that I have control over this money.
Sometimes the silences
in a family are a way to control people, and make them
less conscious of their choices. Yet my grandmother was
especially suspicious of me telling other people about
my financial situation. She thought I should keep it a
secret from even my closest friends. This was impossible
for me, but I always felt conflicted over when to tell
The people I enjoy being
friends with are extremely open with me about all aspects
of their lives--and I mean their fights with their spouses
and more. The ways I've hidden my wealth are quite unique
in this circle because no one else has an interest in
hiding anything. Still, I'm afraid I'll lose friends or
I'd strain my relationships to the max if I were more
But how can you be close
friends when you can't share what your day looks like,
not to mention TRAVEL???!!!! I've always hidden information
about my vacations and said I was visiting my folks in
Wisconsin--and then avoided getting a tan. I'm mortified
when my five year old shows his friends the shark's tooth
he got in Barbados or the lava rock he got in Hawaii.
His friends have never been out of the state and they
have no idea how far away any of these places are from
Because I work as a writer
full-time and live nicely, people often ask me if I support
myself as a writer. I take this NOT as prying, but as
a message that they would like to write full-time or something
similar. Therefore I feel an obligation not to mislead
them. So I say something like "I have another income,"
or "I have a share in a family business that doesn't require
me to put in any time," or something to that effect.
Still, when I decided to
write about my money issues last summer and come out in
my writers workshop as a wealthy person, I was terrified.
I was sick the entire week. But the up side is everyone
in the group was very supportive, even the woman who read
a piece about the humiliation of her childhood poverty
a few minutes before I read my piece, which began "I want
to talk to about money. Mine. I have too much..." In fact,
this woman wrote me a letter so warm I refer to it as
a love letter.
The most interesting thing
about coming out has been how easy it is for me to tell
people now. I took another writing workshop later in the
summer where I wanted to continue to write about class,
so I told them about my money in my introduction on the
first night. No terror, no adrenaline rush, no constipation.
My teacher's response was to ask, "Will you marry me?"
But I was still taken seriously as a writer, and no one
showed any resentment about my money. I think that's my
The question that always
scared me was: "Where did you get the money to start your
nonprofit?" For several years, I replied nervously to
this question, "We have an anonymous lender" knowing that
I stood out like a windmill on the prairie. I feared that
if others found out I had inherited money they would treat
me differently, fundraise from me, or show disrespect
for the mixed blessing that comes with having more than
others. I was so cautious that many of the members in
our close-knit organization didn't even know my secret.
Over time, I slowly began
to tell some folks that I was the anonymous lender. To
my surprise, very little changed in my relationships with
others. Instead of seeing me as the "owner" of the organization
as I had feared, people often commended me for having
vision and integrity to use my money in this way. As I
became more comfortable revealing my secret, I also ran
into more and more people who had also used their money
to help create non- profits that they are closely involved
with. They, too, had trepidation in talking about money.
Of course, some people
do sling their stereotypes and distress about money and
class at me. It's taken me some time to develop appropriate
responses in these circumstances, but observing what I
see is REALLY going on for the person can be fruitful
(e.g. "...so you're afraid you won't have enough money
when you get older...") This has lead to deep conversation
when I have had the stamina to follow my intuition, speak
honestly, and listen--but it is not for the faint at heart!
I've learned you don't
have to be 100% out about your wealth to every person
you meet. You can start as I did with folks you feel the
safest with and take small steps in "coming out" as you
feel comfortable. In the long run, I believe we all benefit
by revealing more about our inner selves. What I find
most insidious about class distinctions are the unquestioned,
limiting messages and ideas that each of us carry that
keep us from being closer with one another, and which
keep each one of us from reaching our fullest potential.
Disclosure, for all its risks, may be one of the best
ways to become more trusting and compassionate with each
For all our talk about
disclosure, I've started to wonder why no one on this
listserve ever mentions the amount of their net worth.
We reveal so many things to each other here, why don't
we ever talk hard numbers? Is there some sort of taboo
about this, even among other wealthy people? Of my closest
friends, I DO know about their net worth, and they mine.
Yet, I remember as a teen
my father wouldn't tell me how much he made except to
say it was in the top 1/2 percent. My grandfather never
told me how big his estate was. Is it arrogant to state
the amount? Does it make those who have more be judgmental
about those who have less? Am I missing something by even
asking the question? Am I rude, disrespectful, or out
of whack on the Miss Manners' Politeness Scale?
Jonathan, your questions
make me nervous for a variety of reasons. One is that
as a child I was instilled with a fear that I might be
in physical danger because of my family's money and "prominence"
in the community. This fear comes up for me whenever the
subject of revealing my net worth is broached. This clearly
interferes with my broader belief that it is better to
be as open as possible in order to understand how the
conditions of our lives affect us.
Some years ago, I taught
an adult education class on money issues. The attendees
weren't all rich, probably a mixture. We talked about
the problems of disclosure and many of the issues that
they had around their money--whether it was too much or
too little. The questions I asked the class were:
What is scary about disclosing
your financial position? What are you trying to gain by
doing so? What are you afraid of losing by doing so? What
beliefs are operating in your decision? What do you fear?
Perhaps these are the questions
worth discussing here on the Internet, where we don't
know everyone who is listening in.
I'll start and take up
the challenge of answering some these questions myself...
What am I afraid of when
disclosing my net worth?
Being judged by people from different levels
of holdings-- either higher or lower
Being shamed for not doing more, be it giving
money away, or making more money, or living contentedly
with what I have.
What am I afraid of losing?
If my amount is smaller than yours, do I then
If I've been unsuccessful in growing my amount,
do I lose the appearance of competence?
If my asset level is higher than yours, yet
I'm still afraid of being poor, will I lose your respect?
What is one thing I fear?
If my holdings became public knowledge, I
wouldn't be able to fend off the demands. I imagine
myself standing in a crowd of angry beggars with their
hands outstretched, and my baskets being almost empty.
Nowhere to hide and no means to replenish. It often
feels easier to hide behind the "I'm poor or I'm struggling,
I think hiding behind a
screen allows people the luxury of believing that "money
is not power" or that "money doesn't define who I am."
I couldn't disagree more. Our wealth is a reality, and
its effects are so numerous, overt, subtle, and pervasive
that it is pure fantasy to believe it isn't part of the
warp and weft of who we are.
There are many other things
that define me, of course. My deep love for and connection
with my children; highly supported and enhanced by my
capacity to never have to work while they were growing
up. My intellect, truly my own; but it's undeniable that
all those years in college and graduate school were supported
by wealth and I never had to work my way through. My relationships
and my spiritual path; isn't it lovely I have the time
and energy for both. My passionate love of running whitewater;
time and money again. Philanthropy and politics. Pretty
self-evident. I could come up with other qualities besides
wealth that could weave together the same aspects of my
life (love, passion, etc.) which I profoundly hope are
more important. But the point I'm trying to make is that
we cannot escape the defining aspects of wealth.
An important question for
me is who benefits from the taboo against talking about
Regardless of our class
backgrounds, we all carry around fears and insecurities
that our personal "value" to others will be judged based
on our wealth or lack of it. The taboo keeps us from talking
to each other, building stronger relationships across
classes, or becoming creative about how wealth could or
should be shared to narrow the gap between the wealthiest
and poorest among us.
To do these things, we'll
have to break the taboo! In some ways it's analogous to
the times I've "come out" as a lesbian. Stereotypes get
shattered and I become more visible as an individual.
I believe that we'll be healthier (less obsessed) if we
can learn to connect better to others with less fear and,
together, start to repair the world.
OPENING TO COMPASSION
I just had a woman who
grew up working class tell me "rich means everything works."
At first I thought she meant capitalism had worked for
that individual and therefore they got rich, but what
she meant was that the things in your life work: the car,
the stove, etc, not the make-do of her life growing up.
I have the luxury of being able to replace or fix what
breaks, hire the help I need, and not worry about paying
bills. I am so grateful to be free of all that worry.
Yet, it's important for
those of us with more than enough money to remember we
are not having the normal experience. We often don't understand
what most people's daily life struggles are really about.
I agree that the line "rich
means every thing works" means exactly what you say--that
repair to refrigerator, car, shoes is speedy (and repairing
necessities does NOT mean you don't eat that day).
There is another layer
implied here, too--reliability and dependability. We are
not inconvenienced if the car battery dies routinely.
We use a different vehicle, or call a cab. WE HAVE OPTIONS.
And so we get to work on schedule, get kids from school
promptly, easily run myriad errands. The result is that
a rhythm of stability is established for us which is much
less easy for others to maintain.
In the course of my work,
I interact with many good people who are constantly derailed
by these problems. They end up losing jobs, moving kids
from school to school, place to place, with the serious
subsequent problems which result from the "trickle down"
of "nothing working right."
Many of the students I
taught as a public school teacher lived below the poverty
line. It is so disturbing to see kids itching, hungry,
exhausted, and sick. I also have a number of poorer friends.
Experiences like these
can really open your eyes to the world around you. In
fact, I think they are worth seeking out, if you don't
already have them. I recently read an interview with Bernie
Glassman, a Zen master who leads "street retreats," penniless
week-long excursions into lower Manhattan, for affluent
people. The Roshi was asked in the interview if he was
romanticizing poverty. His reply: "I think that the person
who has lived with the Untouchables can work with the
Untouchables in a way that others cannot. You can't become
Untouchable in this way, of course. At the same time I
believe that those who came out of that experience have
a deeper understanding of it, and we should learn from
them. I want to figure out how to learn from those who
have suffered in a certain way, even though I can't fully
enter that realm."
I was raised in a wealthy,
"99.9% white", Boston suburb. My exposure to Blacks, for
example, was primarily the live-in help from Haiti. I
think I am largely oblivious to the day-to-day sufferings
of others. Your letters have stimulated much reflection.
OK, it's time for me to
put in my two cents about putting yourself in other people's
shoes. I am one of the six individuals who went with the
Rockefeller Foundation's Philanthropy Training Program
to Bangladesh last year. I would never have gone if it
hadn't been for that course--and I would say it was the
highlight of the program-- and of my last decade.
I have to admit that I
almost didn't take the course because I was petrified
at the idea of going to such an impoverished country.
I spent many sleepless nights before my trip--I was not
sure that I wanted to see such overwhelming poverty. Would
I get sick? Would I cry myself to sleep every night? Would
my experience haunt me for the rest of my life?
Even in the United States,
the course was intense. Before each quarterly session,
we were sent thick notebooks of background materials.
Then we would participate in sometimes twelve hour days,
jam-packed with discussions, site visits, and individual
projects. And then Bangladesh...
Despite some potential
criticism from others, we stayed in a good hotel in Dakka
with purified water and air-conditioning. I agreed with
this decision. I didn't think the object of our trip was
to pretend that we were something we weren't--and certainly
it would have been a worthless experience if any of us
had gotten sick. The hotel was a cushion, of course, but
every time I looked out my window I was reminded where
I was. My view had the swimming pool, but there just beyond
the palm trees was a muddy shantytown.
On the trip, I saw beggar
children who were deliberately disfigured, and the rows
upon rows of sick infants in the cholera hospital, and
dispirited workers in the factories. However, I pretty
much expected to see that. The big surprise was that I
also saw humanity and hope and beauty as well.
We met some amazing people
on the trip, such as a female lawyer who has created a
"safe-haven" for abused wives, and some doctors who developed
the cure for cholera, and Dr. Yunis, who founded the Grameen
Bank. On one field trip, three of us and a translator
sat on jute mats in the hot sun as we listened to women
report on their small loans from the bank. For as little
as $20, each woman had used her loan to turn a profit--
by purchasing a cow, or some material to make saris, or
merchandise for a small store.
I kept on reminding myself
that I was from another world, that I could fit all the
people from this village into my apartment. That they
would never be able to conceive of my life style. And
yet, I felt close to these women. After the discussion
ended, two women came up to me and took me by the hand.
They led me all over the village--proudly pointing out
what they (and not their husbands!) had done with the
profits from their loans. They had paid for tin roofs,
cement floors, clothes for their children. I was profoundly
touched by their warmth. I was crying as I boarded our
minivan to leave because they kept on giving me hugs.
The Rockefeller course
taught me to care about people clear across the planet.
When we got back to the US, I convinced all the participants
to contribute $5,000 each to help fund a program we had
seen in Bangladesh. "Over there" is now "here" in my mind.
I was a participant in
the Rockefeller course, too, during the first year. Our
group went to Nairobi. What I can never adequately describe
was the vastness of the poverty. It is far different than
the poverty and slums I have experienced on site visits
here in New York. There are far more people, over a larger
area, and the conditions are mind-bending. It made me
feel very small. Where to begin? The people who are working
in the field, patching together funds from various countries,
various philosophies, and various politics are to be commended,
admired and held in awe for their courage, vision, persistence,
The earlier message about
"homeless" street retreats really hit home. I do pro bono
legal work for the Homeless Advocacy Project in San Francisco
and have always wanted to better understand the lives
of my clients. It may sound crazy, but I've long had a
fantasy to just walk out of my house, get on a bus to
Los Angeles, and live like a homeless person for a week
or two. I've imagined cutting as many strings as possible--no
credit cards, no cash, maybe just take along an extra
battery for my hearing-aid--and then make my way by my
wits, try not to get hurt, and hopefully learn something
in the process.
Well, a recent Street Retreat
run by the Zen Center in Los Angeles gave me that chance,
and in the heat of August. A group of us, five men and
four women, spent five days in what is called Skid Row,
at around 5th and San Pedro. It's the toughest part of
town, filled with broken, addicted people and dirty streets.
The many rules of the Union
Rescue Mission where we spent the first night were oppressive,
a problem compounded by great disrespect from the service
workers. Once I went over to the guy who let people in
to take showers and asked him how the procedure worked.
He asked if I was going to tell him my "procedure." I
repeated my question, using words I thought he would like
better. He softened somewhat and gave me the spiel, but
still with a nasty attitude.
There's a lot of waiting
in homelessness. After the shower we sat in a large room,
which served as the chapel, from 5:30 to 8 PM, listening
to a sermon. Dinner, however, was very quick, from 8 to
8:30. We were then hustled outside and had to wait in
line next to the building before being herded upstairs
to the large sleeping room. Those of us who were new were
then waited in another line to receive linens. The orders
were harsh. I received two fitted sheets and no pillow
case, and they almost did not give me flats when I asked.
It felt like I was in prison. I was astonished and angry
and kept reminding myself that I had made a choice to
The next morning we were
roused at 6 am and taken down to the large room again.
We sat for an hour and breakfast was at 7. We met up with
the women afterwards and walked to the civic center park,
where we sat in the circle and shared how we felt. I spoke
of my anger at being treated with disrespect at the mission,
at how none of the people there deserved such poor treatment.
Later, we went over to
the Catholic Worker, which was wonderful-- good people,
open air, a court yard covered with vines and enclosed
from the street, picnic tables, kind servers, a fountain
and a bird cage. We ate our first good food and then talked
with the head of the place who told us some about local
politics. She said we could stay there that night. We
slept on the tables or on the concrete floor. Rather,
we tried to sleep on the hard surfaces with no padding.
It struck me that sleep deprivation would be another big
part of homelessness.
Begging for money was difficult.
We used a paper cup because people who do give money don't
like to touch the beggars. Even so it was so hard to prepare
myself to say, "spare change, please," because I took
the rejection personally. Most of the time people would
not even look at me--that hurt.
People are on the street
for many reasons, of course--loss of a job, mental illness,
a brain injury, or drug addiction. Yet, the word "homeless"
is really a misnomer. Poverty-stricken is the closest
to it. That brings into play more of the political aspects
of the problem. We who have gained wealth because of advantageous
tax laws for corporations and the rich, have done so,
to some degree, at the expense of those who are now homeless.
I saw the results of that policy and had to wrestle with
feeling like I did not deserve the wealth I inherited.
Your write-up offers us
a lot to think about, Jonathan. "Procedure" got you into
trouble, eh? Yessir, it IS hard to disguise the fact you
are educated and have "fine" speech. Just as in England,
our status can be assessed quickly the minute we open
our mouth. Shades of Pygmalion/My Fair Lady. Not only
did you use "big words," you asked questions and made
requests. They picked on you because you did not sound
as helpless as the usual "inmates."
This is not to say that
all homeless people are uneducated. Only that the desperation
of poverty, homelessness, and often ill health combine
to sap street folk of USE of their education or even "common
sense." As you noted, substance abuse and/ or mental illness
are common on the street. These factors also kill the
ability to THINK and make "good decisions." Add in the
sleep deprivation you accurately describe, and marginal
nutrition--not for a week, but for months and years. The
result? Lost souls for whom no amount of money alone can
resolve their woes. Each has a story, human and haunting.
But, Jonathan, you definitely
are NOT responsible for each of them. Ability to empathize
with someone is healthy; guilt because you don't share
their pain on a daily basis--is nuts! Remember you ARE
doing your part by offering so much pro bono legal work
to your community. Ancient Jewish wisdom says that no
person is obligated to carry the whole world, but neither
is he freed from shouldering his part of the burden.
The question I find my
self asking is how do we address the problems we open
our hearts too. Offering "symptom relief" is fine for
superficial problems, but what about larger and more global
issues? These situations are just too complex and interrelated
to be solved by the "Bandaid" approach. Symptom relief
is often too superficial and short-term, offering little
more than momentary relief for the receiver and the illusion
of a quick fix which can appear quite satisfying to the
giver. My worry is that we can act "compassionately" without
necessarily addressing the real needs or causes of our
social problems, and even enable the underlying problems
to continue along their destructive path.
CREATING A BETTER WORLD
Throughout my life I have
felt that people have a right to live comfortably, neither
hairshirt on the one hand nor wealth-producing separation
from society on the other. I also believe that we should
be permitted to pass on modest start-up funds to our children.
A family farmer, for example, should be able to pass the
farm on to his children without it being taxed, and the
rest of us should be able to do parallel things at that
level. Any inherited money beyond that, we should contribute
back to society through taxation and philanthropy, which
may be as close to empowering others and transferring
power as we can humanly get.
It is about
, though. As I see it, we as a group also have
the opportunity to focus our time on non-market "caring"
endeavors (e.g., volunteer work, child or elder-care,
low paid non-profit jobs). We can afford to opt out, to
varying degrees, from "money-making" activities. We can
reject without great consequence to our economic status
the prevailing cultural belief that contributions to the
gross national product through paid work have greater
social and personal value than other activities we choose.
Why aren't "taking business
risks," "creating jobs," "sharing skills," or other aspects
of running sound, productive enterprises mentioned on
the list of productive uses of wealth? Personally, I have
seen businesses seeded by family wealth have enormous
positive outcomes for investors, entrepreneurs, employees,
and consumers alike.
May I suggest that those
with capital can make profound contributions even though
they increase their accessible wealth? I would like to
believe we can be socially productive, morally conscientious,
and "earn" all at the same time.
Businesses can be run creatively
and fairly. I ran my business (miraculously) for over
15 years without any obsession about "the bottom line."
That was fun, and the business is now a worker coop with
almost 50 worker-owners. They still are focused on education
and life-enhancement, but of necessity they pay much more
attention to the bottom line than I used to.
Once upon a time, I knew
a physician who set up a private practice with three support
staff. From the total income of the practice, they paid
the overhead costs of keeping the office open and made
payments on the MD's school loans. They divided the remaining
revenue equally among themselves as salaries.
I'm in Dick's corner, too.
I was taught (and still believe) that creating jobs and
opportunities for others is a valuable part of capitalism.
Not all bosses are abusive, take advantage of their workforce,
cheat employees of wages, or ignore unsafe working environments.
Over the years, my dad
sent dozens of employees to a trade school to improve
their skills, rehired them at better wages when they graduated,
and bragged with pride when they went on to become business
people in their own right. I have long since lost track
of the number of immigrants who learned English at his
side while on the job--but I picked up bits of Russian,
Greek, Hungarian, Spanish and few choice words of Serbian....
Often they and their family members ate and slept alongside
our family, until they were on their financial feet. Dad
sometimes took his employees to local cultural events
and encouraged their interest in sports. And, you should'a
heard him yell at the teens who skipped school or didn't
show up to work their shift. They learned responsibility
Maybe he was an exception.
All I can say is that at his funeral there were an awful
lot of folks who came to pay respects who weren't literal
family members. And they were dressed a lot better than
they were when we had met them at the docks. If a "little
guy" can do so much, think how much more the top 2% can
I was awed by you and your
father, Shirley. Trouble is, we have two economies going
now--multinational and local. The way we have structured
international capital investment thrusts international
corporations into other countries and cultures. This often
overrides creative local entrepreneurship. In many parts
of the world, people like those that your father helped
become entrepreneurs are once again falling back into
poverty. Russia is no better. The big capitalists there,
often supported by free-trade ideologues in the West,
have created nothing. They have not created new em ployment
as your father did, just grabbed off and milked the previously
I mean in no way to imply
that the leaders of the multinationals are inherently
devious or wicked. There are probably good people like
your father in such positions. It is a structural problem
in which we are all caught up, not so much a question
of the morality of a few individuals.
I am no economist, but
it is becoming clear to me that it is the banking system
and the structure of the flow of capital that must be
changed. I had once hoped that our international banking
structures were learning that building Aswan Dams was
not as important as making capital available to local
business development within the cultural framework of
the developing country. Yet, I don't think that is going
to happen unless there is structural change. The world
is no longer the place in which your father worked.
I believe that responsible
businesses can still be successful today--even without
what you call structural change. A business is successful
because it gives the customer something which is wanted,
and often that "something" is product-plus-service. People
always "vote with their pocketbooks." What the mass of
consumers wanted in past years was convenience, low cost,
novelty, quality of product, or whatever. That is what
was generated, but often at the expense of exploiting
employees or the soil.
Today's consumer is learning
that green, simpler, sustainable products are more desirable.
There is growing awareness about working conditions for
laborers overseas, as well as here. As long as there is
consumer demand for products produced more humanely, today's
business leaders will seek ways to keep these customers
happy. They will market their creations with advertising
which appeals to the moral sensibilities of our generation.
The bottom line may take care of itself, if we spend our
Well, yes and no. Remember,
a market system is more oriented toward m o n e y than
people. Producers figure out how to lure money out of
consumers' pockets by making products and services that
those consumers want. That works for those of us with
money. But if we value making our system better serve
all our people's needs, we have to redistribute buying
power (i.e., wealth) more widely. No solution short of
that will adequately make the system reflect the majority's
The second big problem
is that the general public unwittingly subsidizes some
producers over others, which skews what otherwise would
be rational, efficient decisions. For example, we all
bear the cost of pollution, if only because it lowers
the quality of our lives. Producers can thus sell their
products below true cost because the public bears some
of it. As a result, producers and consumers are rationally
making inefficient (in this case environmentally destructive)
decisions. Pleading with producers or consumers to voluntarily
reduce their income for the sake of the social good can
help, but is fundamentally inadequate. Somehow we have
to make prices reflect the real social and environmental
costs now excluded--what economists call "externalities."
Only when that happens will making a profit and filling
human needs be the same activity.
Though making these two
basic reforms will be extremely difficult, especially
on a world-wide scale, I see no other way to solve many
of our problems adequately. Personally, I think my money
would have the most long-term impact funding a think tank
on what I call the "fair market system" where prices reflect
social and environmental costs, and buying power is widely
You make some good points.
Prior to 1980, the tax structure in the United States
helped most people advance financially. Since then, with
corporate welfare so big, people at the low end of the
economic structure have suffered, while people in the
upper two quintiles are the only ones who have advanced.
In my mind THIS gap is THE root cause of so much of what
we are trying to address. If we could solve the GAP, lots
of the social issues we agonize over would not be the
acute problems they are. That's why I'm active in citizen
action groups like Responsible Wealth and United for a
Fair Economy, and why our family foundation only supports
groups working on what we see as the root causes of our
I live in Germany, but our social problems
are not really so different. The same thing is happening
here as is happening in the United States: the "scissors of income"
is opening between rich and poor. The social support system
is being undermined, and most social and cultural projects
are in trouble. Unemployment is rising, while private
wealth has multiplied. Many of us are inheriting now--the
children of the economic miracle of the 50s-70s--and a
great many of us inheritors are socially conscious. We
are just unsure of how to move forward. So far there is
relatively little "wealth activism," so we need examples
of individuals with a clear vision who use their wealth
for the public good. This discussion helps.
Hey, everybody, I just
want to pause in these conversations and say thank you
for the depth and thoughtfulness of what all of you are
writing here. The few times I have put out something for
discussion, your responses have been extremely sensitive,
presented insights I had not either thought of or experienced,
and thus broadened my horizons considerably. I have also
gained equally from the conversations on topics which
were of interest to me but in which I did not participate.
It is a tribute to
More than Money
that it attracts
a constituency like this. Thank you all!
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