Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [48]
This, I must say, was a bit of a revelation to me. For the first time in any of my dealings with a banking institution, it actually seemed like I had some leverage. Maybe I just caught them on a bad day. Perhaps I simply found two banking officials sincerely interested in my financial well-being. Or just as likely, the bank was beginning to feel the pinch of the competition in the financial services industry across the continent. Whatever the reason, the dictate to be frugal was paying off.
I had been so successful at the bank, I decided that other fixed expenses merited some attention. Insurance, lawn care, long-distance plans—they were all subject to my newfound consumer empowerment.
And then came the guilt.
The problem with this new feeling of financial empowerment was that it was butting up against one of the virtues that Franklin never mentions, a virtue that my parents attempted to instill by example. I was taught to be loyal. Loyalty to family, loyalty to community, loyalty to country. Less logically, I was also taught to be loyal to the places where, and the people with whom, I conduct business. People of my parents’ generation drove the same brand of car throughout their life, they shopped at the same stores, and they banked at the same bank. As I sat down with two banking officials, relatively unknown to me, in an institution to whom I am just a number, and discussed how we could find a middle ground that allowed me to keep more of my money and them to keep any of it, it occurred to me that I was being disloyal.
I was like some star athlete in the midst of a good season seeking a new contract. I was trying to renegotiate.
Worse, I wasn’t even a star. In the financial world, I was a career minor leaguer. I had never said that I would take my business elsewhere, I was unfailingly polite, and I truly appreciated the efforts that the banking officials were making for me . . . and yet . . . I was still looking for cash. I hadn’t even had a good season.
What would Ben say? Could Ben have even contemplated the nature of our modern economy? He was, of course, a very successful businessman and was shrewd in his enterprises to the extent that he effectively “retired” young, freeing his time and talents for science, politics, and eventually nation building. Perhaps he would say, to my early mortgage renegotiation, “It’s about time.” Or perhaps he would shake his head in disapproval. This, fortunately, was one instance in those thirteen weeks that it mattered not one iota what Ben would or would not have wanted. Michelle was happy, and Michelle trumps Ben. She is alive and much better looking.
Be Wary of Franklin Followers Bearing Gifts
As my encounter with Frugality drew to a close, I was mindful of two things: (1) I probably spent no less money than I have in any other week; and (2) I did little good for others with whatever Frugality I practiced. Of the first I was not much concerned. While I may have spent no less, I probably spent no more. In an age of consumerism and materialism, simply stemming the tide of purchases may, in fact, be a small victory.
At least not until Problem No. 2 arises.
Franklin was subtler than I had first imagined. Let me explain with a little criticism of the great man, not from me but from those who know him best.
Franklin, notwithstanding the great affection Americans feel for him, is not without his detractors, and his virtue course has come under considerable scrutiny. Maybe that’s what happens when you dare to suggest you tried to be “morally perfect.” The critics have questioned the rationale for the virtues, the particular virtues selected, and his success in achieving his goal. And the critics are not Ben haters—at least not all of them. Most are fans, men and women who have devoted a good portion of their own lives to a study of our hero.
Take Edmund Morgan. Mr. Morgan is, according to the author