agnut
24th April 2011, 01:01 AM
Hi all; I wrote this Silver Musing almost 7 years ago. It seems to have stood the test of time; in particular the gold:silver ratio changing as well as where to hide yer stash.
Preserving Your Wealth or Hide In Plain Sight
Welcome to the third world. Somewhere in the back hills of one of the Carolinas. We travel on a county road for some distance to a dirt road on the right. For the first while I enjoy the idyllic countryside but then know I am getting close as I can as I get a nose full of the aroma of the hog pens. I was instantly reminded of the time when I lived in Hawaii and we learned where the hog pens were on the back roads and knew in advance to roll up the windows before proceeding. Whew ! A dead skunk would have been a relief. Anyway, this road winds up, down and around and over a homemade bridge to the home of my old cousin Thurlow Pennypacker ( T.P. to his family; no jokes please. We’ve heard them all. ) and his wife Eunice. Oh, and their 9 kids aged from 11 to 18. We like to tease Thurlow, “What did you do, jump up on the delivery table ?”. Eunice’s aged father and mother also live on the property in a small outbuilding which was once a tool shed but now has windows and electricity. They seem happy as clams.
As I drive up to the house, the family all descend on me as I knew to honk before getting too close. Being family, I am greeted with warmth and trust. T.P. has just set down his 12 gauge on the porch as he realizes it was me. The family bloodhound , old Blue, is looking at me with those sad eyes. Doesn’t anybody ever name their bloodhound Spot or anything but Blue ? And I’m slipping off the story here and the purpose of my visit.
I have come here to learn what I can about protecting my wealth. Sort of The Country Mouse Visits the City Mouse in reverse. T.P. has made a good living by raising hogs and some crops and has put savings away in gold and silver as he trusts the government about as much as I do.
But first we must have lunch together. The house has a woody musty smell and the long dining table is in the center of a large open room with open beam ceiling which has couches and chairs near the front window and a back screen door made of wood which when slammed makes an unmistakable sound.. Behind the inside back door T.P. has some grapes fermenting in an old earthen jug beside another shotgun. I am reminded of his fondness for wine because of the aroma wafting through the air. Country perfumes. We all hold hands for prayer and T.P nods to one of the girls and says “It’s yer turn honey”. Eunice brings out fresh biscuits and butter unlike anything the city has to offer. Eunice looks to me and asks “Do ya want milk or buttermilk ?“ The main course is fried chicken with corn on the cob and green beans. There is also okra stew, an unfamiliar treat. After dinner we have homemade deep dish blueberry pie topped with vanilla ice cream the children had made earlier.
T.P. asks if I can stay for supper and I quickly say yes. He turns to one of the older boys and says “Bobby Joe, would ya go out and git some rabbits ?” Bobby Joe picks up an old single shot 22 rifle and ammo and leaves for the fields.
After lunch T.P. and I stroll out a ways and begin our talking.
“So, ya want ta know how we hide our savins ? Well, the first rule is to split it up inta 10 or more lots. A man would have to be a dad blamed fool to do otherwise.
Next, ya gotta find places where folks wouldn’t think to look or places that are hard to git to.
And ya need a decoy. A small safe with a little silver and mebbe a bag of pennies and nickels fer weight.
Now my wife and the oldest, Bobby Joe, are the only ones who know outsida me.
And last ya need a list where ya hid out yer gold and silver. Cause I’m gittin’ old timers disease and will likely fergit where I put it all years ago. And not jest any list; it has ta be in some code or other. I use a “Things To Do” list. Fer instance, one item might be, “move outhouse“. That really means one stash is at the bottom of the outhouse.”
I interrupted with, “But T.P., isn’t that nasty work to retrieve it ?”
T.P. says, “Yeah but ifn I gotta git it out, it means we’re in nasty times. See ?” I was reminded of gold and silver being called barbaric metals. And that nasty times was akin to barbaric times. Made sense to me now. He further told me that he packed up the silver in PVC tubes sealed at both ends so that they would survive this corrosive environment. He showed the hole he had dug for the outhouse to soon move over as the old one was getting ripe. He said when an outhouse became near full he moved it and threw old trash and tin cans on top for the curious with metal detectors. After digging through the trash no one in their right mind would want to go further. And anyway, T.P. had a backhoe to distance himself when needed.
T.P. said another To Do on his list might read “mend fence $146.89 supplies at Home Depot” . That means there is a stash under post # 1, 4, 6, 8, and 9. I was starting to get the picture. He also said to leave nails and other metallic items all over the place to frustrate searchers.
Now T.P. showed me the hog pens. “Lookee here, Red (Red is my nickname and NOT because of my hair, it is my initials), see all them hogs ? Well, under their hooves a few feet is a stash a silver. After all, that is where I got tha money from for tha silver in tha first place.” A sort of country poetic justice I suppose.
We strolled over to a wrecked car. It had no wheels and sat flat on the ground. T.P. kicked one of the fenders and said, “This here piece a junk covers another stash. An’ ah suppose ya could fill tha old gas tank with silver dimes if ya had a mind ta.
We next went to an old well and T.P. said, “Down thar is ‘nother stash.” I said, that would be an obvious place wouldn’t it ? He said that the stash was not at the bottom of the well but in the side of the well wall behind one of the bricks and it could be detected and retrieved only by someone being lowered down. I gained a bit more respect and remembered the song “A Country Boy Can Survive”.
I said, “T.P., so far, you have shown me where to stash silver. How about gold ?”
T.P. said, “Well, stashin’ gold is a whole lot easier right now since it takes up about 60 times less space fer tha same cost. But lemme ask ya Red, what will ya do if tha silver gits as pricey as gold ?”
I was taken aback; I had never had a fellow investor ask me questions about precious metals face to face. I mean, reading about real money on the internet was one thing. I thought for a minute and told him that I would, after getting over the shock, immediately think of better places to hide my silver. The realization came over me in a flash that if silver were about the same price as gold that I would have to treat this silver with the respect that I had always attributed to gold. And that my plans for my stashing silver took on a new light. No longer could I cavalierly toss a bag of silver in a drawer or closet. After all, who knows what the future will hold. And if I believed the silver to gold ratio would radically change in the future, I should act accordingly now not later and with greater caution. I remembered reading that there is 2 to 4 times the ounces of gold above ground as silver. And other silver facts came to mind. And all while these revelations came over me, T.P. was nodding and grinning at me knowingly. We both laughed at the end of this part of the conversation.
T.P. then said, “Ya know, hidin’ yer stash right smartly now is a whole heap easier than havin’ to defend it later.”
It was my turn to tell T.P. an idea I had and ask his opinion. Supposing that I had family or friends that I would trust with my life, could I have them hold in trust a portion of my silver stash ?
T.P. thought about this for a few minutes and replied, “Well, only if they understood about what they are holdin’ could be a matter of life or death important down tha road. An’ ifn ya had a mind ta, that they’ll git some benefit down the road fer helpin’ ya. That’d just sweeten tha pot fer them. Jest be fer sure, fer sure of this person.
I told T.P that if I left some of my stash with someone I would tell them that I would come back for it in time. If something happened to me, then I would tell them that I trusted them to do what was right with it. If I had children or family in need that they would help them. And if they needed it for their own survival it was theirs. T.P. thought this was the only right and moral thing to do.
I pressed further and asked, “What can we do with the gold now while it is so relatively more costly than silver ?”
While scratching his beard, T.P. said, “Well, ya could cut holes in wood things like logs, fence posts, furniture, doors an’ hidey hole ‘em in thar. Or ya could put ‘em in some ol’ broken appliance like a smashed up toaster thet ya have throwed in the corner of tha workshop. Or ya could put a mess of ‘em up inside an old broken ‘frigerator. Or ya could jest spread tha gold ever which way and make et a Easter egg hunt from Hell fer tha bastards !” I could see that T.P. was getting his dander up at the thought of being robbed and I changed the subject. “Hey T.P., can I see your new breeding bull ?”
We went out to the fence and there was “Limousine”, big, long and black. And not friendly al all. T.P. smiled and said, “Yup, Limosine is guardin’ a couplea stashes right now.”
It dawned on me to ask what he intended to do with his stashes in the future. So I asked.
He said, “Most of it goes ta tha cheern ( I took that to mean children ). I figgered I’d give ’em a good start in life an might help at givin ’em a good finish too. An the rest is for me and my bride and her folks as long as we have needs, God willin’. An ifn the price shoots sky high, we’ll jest set on it till we need ta sell or barter a bit. I spect could be dangerous to sell ‘fore things settle down agin.”
Our talk over now, we ambled toward the house. It had been an interesting discussion, only punctuated by the occasional sound of Bobby Joe’s finding dinner. And the jackass braying from time to time made me think of politicians and the sounds that come out of their mouths. I have to say that the jackass made better music to my ears; and at least it was sincere.
We had a wonderful supper with fried rabbit and all the fixins. I was honored to say the blessing and silently blessed them all too. What a great family I have; too bad that it took so long for me to come down to their earthy existence. Better late than never.
I bid them a fond farewell and thanks for their hospitality. I invited them to the city and visit me and they graciously thanked me but I knew they would never take me up on that offer. To them, the big city was more dangerous than living out in the wilds.
Just before I left I opened my car trunk and took out a couple of thousand dollar face bags of silver dimes and asked my cousin, "Would you bury these for me with the T.P.?" He laughed again knowingly, winked and said, “Fer sure, fer sure“.
agnut
Preserving Your Wealth or Hide In Plain Sight
Welcome to the third world. Somewhere in the back hills of one of the Carolinas. We travel on a county road for some distance to a dirt road on the right. For the first while I enjoy the idyllic countryside but then know I am getting close as I can as I get a nose full of the aroma of the hog pens. I was instantly reminded of the time when I lived in Hawaii and we learned where the hog pens were on the back roads and knew in advance to roll up the windows before proceeding. Whew ! A dead skunk would have been a relief. Anyway, this road winds up, down and around and over a homemade bridge to the home of my old cousin Thurlow Pennypacker ( T.P. to his family; no jokes please. We’ve heard them all. ) and his wife Eunice. Oh, and their 9 kids aged from 11 to 18. We like to tease Thurlow, “What did you do, jump up on the delivery table ?”. Eunice’s aged father and mother also live on the property in a small outbuilding which was once a tool shed but now has windows and electricity. They seem happy as clams.
As I drive up to the house, the family all descend on me as I knew to honk before getting too close. Being family, I am greeted with warmth and trust. T.P. has just set down his 12 gauge on the porch as he realizes it was me. The family bloodhound , old Blue, is looking at me with those sad eyes. Doesn’t anybody ever name their bloodhound Spot or anything but Blue ? And I’m slipping off the story here and the purpose of my visit.
I have come here to learn what I can about protecting my wealth. Sort of The Country Mouse Visits the City Mouse in reverse. T.P. has made a good living by raising hogs and some crops and has put savings away in gold and silver as he trusts the government about as much as I do.
But first we must have lunch together. The house has a woody musty smell and the long dining table is in the center of a large open room with open beam ceiling which has couches and chairs near the front window and a back screen door made of wood which when slammed makes an unmistakable sound.. Behind the inside back door T.P. has some grapes fermenting in an old earthen jug beside another shotgun. I am reminded of his fondness for wine because of the aroma wafting through the air. Country perfumes. We all hold hands for prayer and T.P nods to one of the girls and says “It’s yer turn honey”. Eunice brings out fresh biscuits and butter unlike anything the city has to offer. Eunice looks to me and asks “Do ya want milk or buttermilk ?“ The main course is fried chicken with corn on the cob and green beans. There is also okra stew, an unfamiliar treat. After dinner we have homemade deep dish blueberry pie topped with vanilla ice cream the children had made earlier.
T.P. asks if I can stay for supper and I quickly say yes. He turns to one of the older boys and says “Bobby Joe, would ya go out and git some rabbits ?” Bobby Joe picks up an old single shot 22 rifle and ammo and leaves for the fields.
After lunch T.P. and I stroll out a ways and begin our talking.
“So, ya want ta know how we hide our savins ? Well, the first rule is to split it up inta 10 or more lots. A man would have to be a dad blamed fool to do otherwise.
Next, ya gotta find places where folks wouldn’t think to look or places that are hard to git to.
And ya need a decoy. A small safe with a little silver and mebbe a bag of pennies and nickels fer weight.
Now my wife and the oldest, Bobby Joe, are the only ones who know outsida me.
And last ya need a list where ya hid out yer gold and silver. Cause I’m gittin’ old timers disease and will likely fergit where I put it all years ago. And not jest any list; it has ta be in some code or other. I use a “Things To Do” list. Fer instance, one item might be, “move outhouse“. That really means one stash is at the bottom of the outhouse.”
I interrupted with, “But T.P., isn’t that nasty work to retrieve it ?”
T.P. says, “Yeah but ifn I gotta git it out, it means we’re in nasty times. See ?” I was reminded of gold and silver being called barbaric metals. And that nasty times was akin to barbaric times. Made sense to me now. He further told me that he packed up the silver in PVC tubes sealed at both ends so that they would survive this corrosive environment. He showed the hole he had dug for the outhouse to soon move over as the old one was getting ripe. He said when an outhouse became near full he moved it and threw old trash and tin cans on top for the curious with metal detectors. After digging through the trash no one in their right mind would want to go further. And anyway, T.P. had a backhoe to distance himself when needed.
T.P. said another To Do on his list might read “mend fence $146.89 supplies at Home Depot” . That means there is a stash under post # 1, 4, 6, 8, and 9. I was starting to get the picture. He also said to leave nails and other metallic items all over the place to frustrate searchers.
Now T.P. showed me the hog pens. “Lookee here, Red (Red is my nickname and NOT because of my hair, it is my initials), see all them hogs ? Well, under their hooves a few feet is a stash a silver. After all, that is where I got tha money from for tha silver in tha first place.” A sort of country poetic justice I suppose.
We strolled over to a wrecked car. It had no wheels and sat flat on the ground. T.P. kicked one of the fenders and said, “This here piece a junk covers another stash. An’ ah suppose ya could fill tha old gas tank with silver dimes if ya had a mind ta.
We next went to an old well and T.P. said, “Down thar is ‘nother stash.” I said, that would be an obvious place wouldn’t it ? He said that the stash was not at the bottom of the well but in the side of the well wall behind one of the bricks and it could be detected and retrieved only by someone being lowered down. I gained a bit more respect and remembered the song “A Country Boy Can Survive”.
I said, “T.P., so far, you have shown me where to stash silver. How about gold ?”
T.P. said, “Well, stashin’ gold is a whole lot easier right now since it takes up about 60 times less space fer tha same cost. But lemme ask ya Red, what will ya do if tha silver gits as pricey as gold ?”
I was taken aback; I had never had a fellow investor ask me questions about precious metals face to face. I mean, reading about real money on the internet was one thing. I thought for a minute and told him that I would, after getting over the shock, immediately think of better places to hide my silver. The realization came over me in a flash that if silver were about the same price as gold that I would have to treat this silver with the respect that I had always attributed to gold. And that my plans for my stashing silver took on a new light. No longer could I cavalierly toss a bag of silver in a drawer or closet. After all, who knows what the future will hold. And if I believed the silver to gold ratio would radically change in the future, I should act accordingly now not later and with greater caution. I remembered reading that there is 2 to 4 times the ounces of gold above ground as silver. And other silver facts came to mind. And all while these revelations came over me, T.P. was nodding and grinning at me knowingly. We both laughed at the end of this part of the conversation.
T.P. then said, “Ya know, hidin’ yer stash right smartly now is a whole heap easier than havin’ to defend it later.”
It was my turn to tell T.P. an idea I had and ask his opinion. Supposing that I had family or friends that I would trust with my life, could I have them hold in trust a portion of my silver stash ?
T.P. thought about this for a few minutes and replied, “Well, only if they understood about what they are holdin’ could be a matter of life or death important down tha road. An’ ifn ya had a mind ta, that they’ll git some benefit down the road fer helpin’ ya. That’d just sweeten tha pot fer them. Jest be fer sure, fer sure of this person.
I told T.P that if I left some of my stash with someone I would tell them that I would come back for it in time. If something happened to me, then I would tell them that I trusted them to do what was right with it. If I had children or family in need that they would help them. And if they needed it for their own survival it was theirs. T.P. thought this was the only right and moral thing to do.
I pressed further and asked, “What can we do with the gold now while it is so relatively more costly than silver ?”
While scratching his beard, T.P. said, “Well, ya could cut holes in wood things like logs, fence posts, furniture, doors an’ hidey hole ‘em in thar. Or ya could put ‘em in some ol’ broken appliance like a smashed up toaster thet ya have throwed in the corner of tha workshop. Or ya could put a mess of ‘em up inside an old broken ‘frigerator. Or ya could jest spread tha gold ever which way and make et a Easter egg hunt from Hell fer tha bastards !” I could see that T.P. was getting his dander up at the thought of being robbed and I changed the subject. “Hey T.P., can I see your new breeding bull ?”
We went out to the fence and there was “Limousine”, big, long and black. And not friendly al all. T.P. smiled and said, “Yup, Limosine is guardin’ a couplea stashes right now.”
It dawned on me to ask what he intended to do with his stashes in the future. So I asked.
He said, “Most of it goes ta tha cheern ( I took that to mean children ). I figgered I’d give ’em a good start in life an might help at givin ’em a good finish too. An the rest is for me and my bride and her folks as long as we have needs, God willin’. An ifn the price shoots sky high, we’ll jest set on it till we need ta sell or barter a bit. I spect could be dangerous to sell ‘fore things settle down agin.”
Our talk over now, we ambled toward the house. It had been an interesting discussion, only punctuated by the occasional sound of Bobby Joe’s finding dinner. And the jackass braying from time to time made me think of politicians and the sounds that come out of their mouths. I have to say that the jackass made better music to my ears; and at least it was sincere.
We had a wonderful supper with fried rabbit and all the fixins. I was honored to say the blessing and silently blessed them all too. What a great family I have; too bad that it took so long for me to come down to their earthy existence. Better late than never.
I bid them a fond farewell and thanks for their hospitality. I invited them to the city and visit me and they graciously thanked me but I knew they would never take me up on that offer. To them, the big city was more dangerous than living out in the wilds.
Just before I left I opened my car trunk and took out a couple of thousand dollar face bags of silver dimes and asked my cousin, "Would you bury these for me with the T.P.?" He laughed again knowingly, winked and said, “Fer sure, fer sure“.
agnut