“I feel guilty, but what am I supposed to do? I’m rich.” That’s what I heard from a wealthy patron of the arts at a film festival. It was obvious that she honestly felt guilt, but it was also obvious that she knew she’d done nothing wrong. What was she supposed to do? I shrugged – and then pointed out that she could keep doing what she was already doing, supporting the arts because that was a direct way to support artists. I don’t know what she thought of that idea because a friend of mine came over to say hello. And she was gone. It wasn’t until the next day that I thought of one answer that was new; give an extra ten percent.

I am sure some readers are echoing vows of poverty from religious orders. I only know one person who has done that, a highly successful salesman making five figures a month who gave it all, all, up and became a Buddhist monk. He has a sense of irony, so after ten years of intense meditation, he went back to school at a Jesuit college to get a masters. He ruffled feathers, and chuckled. He has plenty of stories of the people who never had to take the first step of giving it all up because they never had anything. I doubt that even he would suggest that everyone give it all away. It is simply too traumatic for many.

My conversation with the art patron was longer than a line or two. Giving to others doesn’t have to be a chore. She was a patron of a film festival. She mentioned that she always tried to buy local. She does what she can – and yet feels that it isn’t enough. I think she’s on the right track.

Tourist towns are pricey. (Loving Living Leaving A Tourist Town) The irony is that the people who make the town work get priced out by the people who pay for their work. They basically bid up the prices amongst themselves by demanding ever higher luxuries, which can be good for the local businesses; but, if prices go up faster than profits and wages, then the local owners and workers can be left behind. 

No one policy is going to fix that fiscal inequity. But…

She was already supporting the arts, and that can be extended to functional art. She was shopping at the local markets, not QFC or Safeway, but the places where neighbors work, the places that also purchase local products, produce, and harvests. Skip the latest chardonnay from some place states or countries away. The local winery, cidery, brewery, and even the dairy can appreciate your business. Indulge yourself. Hire out the lawnwork, the housework, the woodwork, the work work. Don’t flaunt it, but if you’ve got it and want to give it to someone else, maybe get something in return. (Though don’t underestimate the power of simple direct gifts. Sometimes, money is the thing that makes the biggest difference.)

And then I thought… No. I didn’t think. A thought bopped into my brain. Give ten percent.

When I give talks, I frequently point out that for the price of a nicer trim package of a new car, someone else could get out of debt, or pay some medical bills, or pay for child care, or, or, or… But, it isn’t necessary to deny yourself that sweeter ride. If you have the money, buy it, and then donate an equal amount as that trim package to someone or some charity. Another way to do that, give ten percent.

Imagine ten people who paid for roof work, each donating ten percent. Those ten people could be paying for replacing a dangerously leaky and deteriorating roof. That’s assuming the ten people had the same size roof as the roof that needed radical repair. It is more likely that the worst roof is also the smallest roof, which would mean there’d be more than one household benefiting. Pick your area of philanthropy. Structural, medical, educational, some other -al. 

The idealist in me says do it because it is the right thing to do, and the realist in me knows that many people would only do it if they could claim it on their taxes. I’ve been there, back when I was much wealthier.

Pardon this somewhat long story, but one time, I accidentally sat in on a meeting of foundations. I thought it was a talk about the philosophy of philanthropy, and it was, but there were only a few other folks there. They represented organizations at the level of Ford Foundation and Carnegie debating their philosophical conundrums. (My apologies that I can’t recall the exact ones. This was over a decade ago.) After we realized my mistake, they invited me to stay. I called what I did ‘checkbook philanthropy’. They liked it. I gave a few dollars here or there. I didn’t have much, but sometimes someone or a small business doesn’t need much – including no strings. I didn’t get the tax benefits, but I also didn’t get the paperwork hassles. 

The foundations were frustrated because their bylaws and such meant paperwork had two extremes: pure philanthropy with no return, or conventional investing and expectations of a return on their investment. If they found someone or some organization that was doing good things and might only get half of their money back, they were stuck. They felt that they couldn’t help innovators, struggling socially conscious companies, or idealistic individuals who might help an economy. They also knew that they were giving money to people who knew how to play the system, and couldn’t help people who truly needed it but were so busy that they didn’t have the time to find out about the funding, or how to apply, or how to qualify for the right tax status.

At a very basic level, we are allowed to give money to each other. It can be hard to know how much to give. Monks may give away everything, but the monastic life is too limiting for almost everyone, I expect. Someone who is poor can wonder why someone rich doesn’t give it all away. Giving it all away means having nothing left. Paying taxes is a first step; no dodging, no shelters. Giving nothing is tempting. (The cries of ‘mine’ and ‘more’ conjure reminders of Madonna’s character in Dick Tracy and Edward G. Robinson’s character in Key Largo.) Give ten percent may be worth a try to those who have sufficient comfortable excess, to those who have a bit of that honest guilt.

Her honest guilt is rare, yet it is an undercurrent within the conversations of wealth inequality. The counter undercurrent is, why don’t the rich give more, especially when the people who need it are the people who are serving the ones with more than enough. One problem (of which we have so many) is how to have that conversation. I’m not sure how. But, if people voluntarily added an extra ten percent to whatever luxury they bought, there might be less guilt and a lot more good.

Buy a season ticket to a baseball team, donate ten percent to the local little league. Buy a ticket to the opera, donate ten percent to a local music program. Buy a new wrought iron railing, give to a local vocational school. 

I know. I know. I’m a silly stupid idealist. Except that, for a small time in my life, I was able to do such things. I was quite quiet about it. I was so quiet about it that a friend liked something I did, so they gifted me a similar sum – without realizing I wasn’t in need (at the time.) They mistook my frugality by choice for frugality by necessity. Ironically, in their version, it didn’t matter. They figured I could pass it along if I wished. It was a gift, no strings attached.

And another friend was so generous during one of my toughest times that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay that debt. They made an existential difference in my life. Hmm. If I win the lottery…

And, really, personal philathropy, even anonymously, was much more gratifying than writing a check to a 501(c)(3). Both are good, but one brought much bigger smiles.

(This following paragraph just popped up. Didn’t plan to get here, but while I’m here, well, here it is.)

If it seems like this has been on my mind, that’s because it is. I’m finishing up my next book (the sequel to Firewatcher). After that, I am going to start on the sequel to Dream. Invest. Live. Dream. Invest. Live. is the basis for this blog. Long-time readers know that I’ve been on a financial roller coaster for decades. The sequel’s working title is ‘From Middle Class to Millionaire to (Mostly) Muddling By – a roller-coaster ride through America’s wealth classes.’ I’ve been taking notes along this accidental ride. We are all in this together, but there are few that seem to feel that we are truly together. Hopefully, I can at least point out a perspective or two or three or more about topics like housing and the rest. Stay tuned, and hold on. It’s been an incredible ride.

And, really, personal philanthropy, even anonymously, was much more gratifying than writing a check to a 501(c)(3). Both are good, but one brought much bigger smiles.