101519_YKMV_A2.pdf
October 15, 2019 • Page 2
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Equal Respect
Dave Says
Now Or Later?
Dear Dave,
My husband lost his job last
week. The good news is we’re
completely debt-free, and we
have a six-month emergency fund
saved up. I work part-time, since
we have young children, and I’ve
been bringing home about $800 a
month. Should we cut our budget
down to bare bones now, or do you
think we could continue living as
usual for the time being since we
have so much money saved?
Jayme
Dave
RAMSEY
Dear Jayme,
I’m sorry to hear about your husband losing his job.
At the same time, I’m really proud of you two for saving and preparing yourselves financially for this kind of
scenario. Eight hundred dollars a month isn’t bad for a
part-time job, but it’s not nearly enough to run a household—even one that’s debt-free—when there are kids in
the picture.
You should already be living on a little as possible in
order to make the money in your emergency fund last as
long as it can. It’s beans and rice time in your house. That
means no restaurants, no vacations, and no movies. In
other words, no spending on anything but bare necessities until your husband finds another good job, and you
guys are back on your financial feet again. Right now,
your priorities are keeping the lights on, the water running, and making sure there’s food in the pantry.
This is a textbook definition of an emergency, Jayme.
Use your emergency fund. It’s there for times just like
these. But be wise, and spend as little as humanly possible. God bless you all!
—Dave
Wellsir, I ast ol’ Slim if
mebbe I could contribulate to his Home Country columns if I ever had
something important to
renounce. And he said
he wanted to go hunting,
anyway, so why not now.
So howdy. This here’s
Windy Wilson, you know.
I’m the guy on the Home
Country with Slim Randles radio show what
edumacates folks to
stuff they ain’t heard the
straight of before.
I timed ‘er just right
the other day. Strolled on
into the Mule Barn when
I knew Doc and the guys
would be there. Then …
to take advantage of medicational science when
it’s sippin’ coffee, I rolls
up my sleeve and shows
Doc my elbow.
Then I said, “Doc,
what do you reckermend
for a elbow with a carbolic uncle on it like this
here?”
And ol’ Doc, he looks
right at me, takes a sip
o’joe, and says, “Youth in
Asia.”
Youth in Asia? Hey,
you know me, I ain’t got
a thing against them Chinese kids. I sure like to
watch ‘em in the Olympics. You see them Chinese girls diving? Boy
howdy! And them Korean
guys shootin’ their bows?
Flamtastic!
And I’m sure they’re
all really nice folks ‘n all,
but what do them kids
know about elbows?
So I undulated to the
library and ast if they had
anythin’ on fixin’ elbows
A Good Emergency Fund?
Dear Dave,
I have about $12,000 in company stock. Could I use
this as my emergency fund?
Jeff
Dear Jeff,
If you want to call that $12,000 an emergency fund,
that’s okay. But if that’s the case, I’d strongly advise cashing out the stock and putting the money in a good, easily
accessible money market account—one with checkwriting privileges. Stocks are long-term investments. The
only purpose of an emergency fund is to have cash on
hand immediately in the event of an emergency.
Specifically, an emergency fund is there to cover
the unexpected expenses life throws at you from time
to time. It’s not an investment, and it’s not designed to
replace income. That’s why I believe it’s essential to keep
your emergency fund liquid and easy to reach!
—Dave
* Dave Ramsey is America’s trusted voice on money and
business, and CEO of Ramsey Solutions. He has authored
seven best-selling books, including The Total Money Makeover. The Dave Ramsey Show is heard by more than 12 million
listeners each week on 575 radio stations and multiple digital
platforms. Follow Dave on Twitter at @DaveRamsey and on
the web at daveramsey.com.
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in China or Japan or Korea or Cambloodia, or any
a them Asian countries.
Mrs. Cutter looked at me
kinder weird, but brought
me back a book on Asia
medicine and I checked
‘er out..
You know what them
guys do when they got a
misery or a stove-up in a
certain place? They stick
pins in it! Knowed you
wouldn’t believe me. But
they do. They call it accurate puncher.
And if stickin’ a pin
ain’t getting’ the job
done, why they ups the
ante ‘n puts a marshmeller on the top of the pin
and sets it on fire!
Yessir.
I knowed ol’ Doc
wouldn’t steer me wrong
… so I did ‘er.
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It hurt a little, but it
was about like gettin’ a
blackleg shot at branding, ‘cept on purpose
a-course. But I sat there
lookin’ at my elbow
through all of Gunsmoke
and that there carbolic
uncle didn’t go away.
So I got me a marshmeller … yes, I did. Had
some left over from Halloween, you know, last
year. And I put one on
that pin and ignitified it.
Singed all the hair around
my elbow, too.
Did it work? Not really.
Mebbe you got to have a
Asian elbow to get all the
benerfits of it.
But that there marshmeller shore tasted good.
And you can tell ‘em I
said so.
Rachel didn’t like moving out west with her family,
leaving their nice New England home. She was only eleven when they moved, and it was a long, arduous journey
across the plains in the covered wagon. Her father worked
hard and built a modest cabin, but three small rooms for
twelve people made it more than a little crowded.
But what bothered Rachel most was how her father insisted they treat the Native Americans with respect. Most
of the other settlers’ children talked negatively about
them, but Rachel didn’t dare. More than once, her father
had scolded her for her attitude. He was a religious man
and insisted everyone was equal in God’s eyes.
“Rachel,” he said, “if you treat others with respect,
most people will return that respect to you, and your life
will be better.”
Another thing her father insisted on was that if any of
the Native Americans came to their home and were hungry, they were fed. Rachel’s father told her, “This was their
land before we came. We are their guests, and they will be
ours. If we have food, we will share it with them.”
Rachel had hardly seen a week go by without a few
Native Americans coming by. Usually, it was only Native
American men traveling in hunting parties. But sometimes, there would be whole families, including mothers
and children. When they came, Rachel’s father encouraged Rachel and her siblings to make friends with the children, but Rachel would have none of it.
Rachel also despised having to share their food. There
were some winters when they ran low and had to ration
it. Rachel’s mother was always cooking. Rachel’s father
mostly only grew wheat and potatoes because they gave
the most food for the cultivated land. The Native Americans loved bread and potatoes. Rachel felt if they didn’t
have to share so much, her father might have food to sell,
and then they could have other things that she liked better.
But above all, there was one Native American man that
Rachel liked the least. It was not because he was mean or
caused problems. It was because he always wore a skunk
skin. The smell churned Rachel’s stomach, and she would
always go out and stay in the barn until he left. She called
him Skunk Man, at least when her father wasn’t listening.
And try as she might, Rachel could not find any positive
feelings toward Skunk Man.
Then, one day, after Skunk Man and the group he was
with left, the family realized their youngest girl was gone.
Rachel’s little sister was only three, and Rachel was sure
that Skunk Man must have taken her. Surely a child that
small couldn’t have gone far on her own.
Anger swelled in Rachel’s heart. The family started to
search, but Rachel was sure it would do no good. She was
sure she knew where her little sister was. Rachel’s older
brother was dispatched to ride to the neighbors’ houses
asking all he met for help in the search. Soon a large group
gathered. They searched all day and much of the night,
but to no avail.
Then, the next morning, Skunk Man and those with him
were back. That made Rachel angry. Did they come back
to admit what they had done? She could see by the reaction of neighbors that many of them felt the same way.
Skunk Man, using sign language, asked her father where
the child had last been seen. Rachel’s father took Skunk
Man to the yard behind the house. Skunk Man got on his
knees and looked carefully at the ground. Soon he and the
men with him moved off in the direction of a small ravine.
Others, including Rachel and her mother, followed. The
Native Americans kept stopping and checking the ground
and items around them, then continued on.
When they were less than a quarter-mile from the
house, the men stopped at some bushes. They checked all
around them, then Skunk Man let out a loud yell. Suddenly,
he started digging at an old badger hole, and the other
men helped him. Eventually, Skunk Man slid face-first into
the hole until only his feet were sticking out. Then he let
out a yell from underground, and the other Native American men pulled him out. Tucked in Skunk Man’s arms was
Rachel’s little sister. Her
face was tear-stained, and
she was a bit scratched
up, but she was otherwise
unhurt. When Skunk Man
handed the child to her
mother, Rachel watched
her strong, brave mother
break down and sob.
From then on, Skunk
Man was one of Rachel’s
favorite people. She would
smile when she saw him
coming and invite him into
their home. And she didn’t
even mind the skunk skin.
At least, not too much.
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