On a drive on a sunny California Day, one of my good girlfriends remarked, “Golf courses are a waste of space for the rich.”
It’s a sentiment that stuck with me. Only because I disagreed with it, on all levels.
I don’t have negative feelings towards golf courses, or the rich. I find golf courses to have a certain elegance. I like to golf. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be rich. Make no mistake, I want to be rich.
Not just rich. Real rich. The kind that you can’t fake. The kind that the bank can’t take away. Conspiracy and Illuminati theory rich. Okay- I don’t need to be that rich… more like pay for my retirement community in Santa Barbara tomorrow rich.
I don’t have to live extravagant rich. I have no need to be on a television program that showcases my home.
I want to be the type of rich where my money makes money. The type of rich where I can donate. A lot.
The type of rich where I can live at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills, if I wanted to. Five–coastal rich.
Manhattan apartment I hardly use rich. The type of rich where I can give out a bunch Clarisonics for Christmas. How many are in a bunch? How many people do I love? That’s how many will be in my bunch.
The type of rich where I pay for my nephew’s Ivy League or even Justice League education. Whatever he wants, his aunt is RICH.
I’d like to own massive rental properties, yet live in a sensible home off of Abbot Kinney in Venice, California. That is until I turn 45 and move to the Pacific Palisades. Yes, I’m sensible. I drive a 2008 Volkswagen beetle, and even if I got rich tomorrow, I’d probably graduate to a Prius. That being said, I can’t say that my chest doesn’t get warm when I see a Bentley.
I’ve never heard a human say “I don’t like nice things.” At least not in English.
I see nothing wrong with being rich, or wanting to be rich.
My mom tells me there’s more to life than being really rich. Hey, I get it, and I’m thankful for the life I have. A few days a week, I run on the beach. I have the most wonderful supportive family, and my friends are true. I get to make people laugh as a job.
I know there’s more to life than being rich. And, sometimes, it’s a day on the golf course.
So… who’s going to the driving range with me this week?
xo and bring the Big Bertha.