Friday, November 6, 1998

Buying the Farm
(In My Quest for Money I Found Something More Valuable)
by Dave Armbrust ([email protected])

My wife and I got married in May of 1984. We were young, in love, well employed, and maybe a little foolish. Our hearts were filled with burning desires of certain unknown pleasures. The true mystery of youth that only maturity answers. Yes, we wanted to be homeowners. But not just any homeowners -- Fixer Uppers!

How did we know this? I am not sure. Maybe it was growing up watching Bob Villa fix up those old dumps. Maybe it was because we bought "antiques" because we couldn't afford new things. Whatever the case, we wanted old. And I mean old -- 50 years old was not enough. We wanted that elusive beast called "The Century Home." Why play in the minor leagues of home improvement when we could go right to The Show? Heck, I grew up working in construction. I had a hammer, screwdriver, a ladder. How hard could it be? A little sanding here. A little paint there. Trim the bushes and mow the yard and -- cha-ching -- sell it and go to the next. Heck, her dad even did concrete!

Our quest took us to candidates near and far until one day, when were headed to an antique auction, we passed an old brick farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It was obviously abandoned and left to rot. It had trees growing into the roof. It was missing some windows -- even into the basement. It was old. It was gloomy. It was spooky. It was "Our Castle in the Sky," complete with two barns and a kennel. When we first passed it, time slowed to a crawl. It was a magic moment -- we were in love. We wondered, "How could anyone not see the inner (well, really inner) beauty of this place?"

As it turned out, this place did become our home. We fixed up the house over a 10-year period. We began renovations, turned five acres of the farm into a tree farm, raised German Shepards, and started our family there -- none of which is cheap on their own. However, we found a way to live on the farm, work on the house, raise the kids, and feed the dogs. There was balance. There was harmony. We had built our own paradise through years and years of trying new things, learning from them, doing and re-doing, and enduring the repetition of that cycle.

At the 10-year mile-marker in this project, a group of developers came to our door and wanted to purchase all the land -- in this middle of nowhere -- including our little farmhouse and all its land. They represented one of the top Golf Course developers in the nation and shared the big names behind their project. They offered a great mountain of money for our little oasis, our castle, our fixer upper, and put my wife and I into the most difficult decision of our lives.

Where is it that we draw the line between emotional happiness and financial security? How could we betray this home that we lovingly resurrected from certain doom, that has protected us, that has taught us many lessons? How could we turn our backs on a place that we filled with so many wonderful memories, friends, and stories? Is there any guarantee that, should we accept their offer, we would be happier? If we rejected their offer, would we live to regret it? The money they offered was fantastic -- a lot of zeros and more than one comma. It was more money than we ever thought we would see. Do we trade paradise for money ?

Well, that was five years ago. Which decision we made is not really important. What we learned, and what I believe is important, is to make sure that you keep your focus on the important things in life. Through it all, I have been blessed with a patient and loving wife, two wonderful kids, and the memories of the special people and times that come past all of us all too briefly and infrequently. Wanting and pursuing financial security is important. But, my Foolish friends, don't let it's siren song consume you.

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