Gambling: America's Overlooked Addiction I

 

I've been thinking about gambling lately, and I believe it's one of the most overlooked problems in America.

I was listening to an interview with Anthony Pompliano, the Bitcoin investor and commentator, and he suggested that gambling may be one of the biggest problems facing our country. That got me thinking

about my own experiences.

I know something about gambling because I've been there.

Back in the early 1990s, I attended Gamblers Anonymous for a couple of years. My particular problem wasn't slot machines, horse racing, or poker. It was commodity trading.

Most people don't think of trading commodities as gambling. They think of it as investing or speculating. But when you're trading with borrowed money and enormous leverage, the distinction can become pretty meaningless.

In those days, I was sometimes trading with leverage of approximately 20 to 1. That means a relatively small movement in the market could wipe out your investment.

And here's the really dangerous part: When things are going your way, you begin to think you're a genius.

You make money. You make more money. You start thinking you've figured out the system. Maybe you'll be rich soon. Maybe you'll never have to worry about money again.

Then the market turns against you.

Suddenly, your profits disappear, your original investment is gone, and you may even owe your broker money.

I've experienced that kind of thinking, and it isn't pleasant.

The Gambling Mentality

One of the things I learned in Gamblers Anonymous is that gambling isn't necessarily about money.

It's about excitement.

It's about adrenaline.

It's about the anticipation that something wonderful is just around the corner.

You convince yourself that the next trade, the next lottery ticket, or the next spin of the roulette wheel is going to change your life.

And sometimes you win. That's what makes gambling so dangerous. Winning reinforces the belief that you can do it again.

But the losses eventually catch up with you.

I think gambling also has a connection to the economy. When people are struggling financially, they may become desperate for a way out.

Instead of gradually improving their situation through work, saving, and careful spending, they look for a shortcut.

Maybe it's the lottery. Maybe it's sports betting. Maybe it's trading options or commodities on margin.

The common thread is the hope of getting rich quickly.

Of course, not everyone who gambles is financially desperate. Some people have plenty of money. They're simply addicted to the excitement.

And some of us experience both motivations.

Now We Have Cryptocurrency

Today, I find myself dealing with some of the same temptations.

I trade Bitcoin, and I've used leverage of approximately three to one on Kraken.

That's considerably less than the 20-to-1 leverage I once used in commodities, but it's still dangerous.

A market decline can do enormous damage when you're using borrowed money. And cryptocurrency is particularly volatile.

I believe Bitcoin has a future. But believing in an investment doesn't mean that borrowing money to speculate on it is a good idea.

That's something I have to keep reminding myself.

There's a difference between owning an asset because you believe in its long-term value and risking money you can't afford to lose because you hope to make a fortune.

Sometimes that difference is more psychological than financial.

The Mind Can Play Tricks on You

I've had my own struggles with mental health over the years.

My mind has sometimes produced elaborate delusions, including imagined adventures involving Hollywood celebrities and even time-traveling combat.

I mention this because I know how convincing the mind can be, even when the things it tells us aren't grounded in reality.

Gambling can create its own kind of distorted thinking.

You begin believing that you're smarter than the market, that a losing streak has to end, or that one more trade will recover everything you've lost.

You can convince yourself of almost anything when you desperately want something to be true.

And when you combine that kind of thinking with borrowed money, the results can be devastating.

Why Don't We Take Gambling More Seriously?

We've spent decades warning people about alcohol and drugs.

We've developed treatment programs, support groups, and public education campaigns. Although those problems certainly haven't disappeared, at least we recognize their dangers.

But gambling?

We advertise it everywhere.

Sports betting has become part of watching a football game. Lottery tickets are sold at convenience stores. Casinos promote themselves as entertainment destinations. And anyone with a smartphone can speculate in financial markets at the touch of a button.

We're making it easier and easier to gamble while often failing to recognize the people who are getting hurt.

The damage doesn't stop with the gambler.

Families suffer. Marriages break down. Savings disappear. Retirement accounts get emptied. People borrow money they cannot repay.

And sometimes the gambler keeps going because admitting defeat seems worse than losing even more.

The Lesson I Keep Learning

Looking back, I sometimes wonder how different my financial life might have been if I had simply worked, saved, and invested conservatively.

I probably would have been better off.

But knowing that intellectually and living by it are two different things.

That's the problem with gambling addiction. You can understand the mathematics, recognize the danger, and still feel the temptation.

I learned a great deal from Gamblers Anonymous, and perhaps the most important lesson was that I wasn't alone.

There were other people who thought the way I did. People who chased losses, dreamed of sudden wealth, and repeatedly convinced themselves that the next time would be different.

I'm not writing this as somebody who has all the answers. I'm writing it as somebody who still has to examine his own behavior.

Maybe that's where solving America's gambling problem begins: recognizing that gambling doesn't always look like gambling.

Sometimes it looks like an investment account.

Sometimes it looks like a financial opportunity.

And sometimes it looks like the answer to all your problems.

But the promise of easy money can turn out to be the most expensive promise of all.

— Working the System

Out of My Element in Arizona

I'm staying in Scottsdale, Arizona, for a couple of weeks, taking care of my sister's dog, Henry, while she's away in Maui. It's a nice place to visit, the weather is pleasant, and there's plenty to do. So why am I feeling so restless and tired?

I think I've figured it out. I've lost my routine.

Back home in Sac City, Iowa, I know where everything is. I know the roads, the traffic is light, and I can go just about anywhere without giving it much thought. Here in Scottsdale, driving is an adventure.

There are cars everywhere. People are traveling 40 or 50 miles an hour on city streets, and the freeways are even worse. I'm not accustomed to that kind of traffic. My little Dodge Caliber bounces around a bit, and my Chevy Silverado has its own way of bouncing, but at least I'm familiar with them. My sister has a very nice car, which helps, but the traffic still intimidates me.

I did quite a bit of driving today, though, and I'm getting better at it. I suppose if I stayed here for a month, or perhaps six months, I'd get used to it. But right now, I find myself wanting to stay home or just walk over to Black Rock Coffee with Henry.

The other problem is exercise.

Back home, I have a regular routine. I lift weights, swim, ride a bicycle, and walk. The recreation center has practically everything I need: a swimming pool, weights, and stationary bicycles. If the weather is bad on bicycle day, I just ride indoors.

Here, I've gotten lazy. I haven't been exercising nearly enough, and I'm feeling tired. I don't think it's the altitude. I think it's simply that I've gotten away from the habits that keep me going.

I've also been trying to do a little gold prospecting north of Cave Creek. Today I drove around looking for Gold Hill, but finding my way through unfamiliar roads has been a challenge. I finally got some topographical maps from the Tonto National Forest people, and it appears there's a gravel road leading toward the area I want to explore.

The question is whether that road is suitable for an ordinary passenger car. I certainly don't want to damage my sister's vehicle. My four-wheel-drive Silverado would be a much better choice for that kind of country. Maybe I'll come back another time with the pickup.

Tomorrow is Veterans Day, and I have something to look forward to. Denny's has traditionally offered veterans a free Grand Slam breakfast. If I wake up at five in the morning, as I often do, I may go looking for a Denny's. I'll call first to make sure they're participating.

A free breakfast is always a good way to start the day!

But getting back to my restlessness, I think there's a lesson here.

We develop routines for a reason. They give our days structure. When we're at home, we hardly notice how much we depend on them. We know where to shop, where to exercise, where to get coffee, and how to get from one place to another.

Take all that away, even temporarily, and suddenly ordinary living requires a lot more effort.

I'm enjoying Arizona, and I'm glad I came. But I'm also discovering that being on vacation doesn't necessarily mean being relaxed.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get some exercise, enjoy my Veterans Day breakfast, and take another look at those maps.

And maybe I'll just take Henry for a walk.

Sometimes that's enough.

Working the System

A Little Anxiety Before a Good Trip

 

I’m heading to Arizona to visit my sister Faye and look after her dog while she goes to Maui. It should be a pleasant trip. So naturally, I’m finding things to worry about.

Tonight I’ll stay at the Quality Inn in Des Moines. My flight leaves at eight tomorrow morning, and I need to be at the airport by six. Knowing me, I’ll probably get there at five-thirty. Apparently, I would rather spend an extra half hour waiting than spend it worrying about being late.

I’m not much of a world traveler. There are things to remember, bags to pack, and that nagging question: Have I forgotten something? I suspect plenty of people know that feeling, even those who travel more often than I do.

But when I think about what’s waiting for me, I feel better.

I’m looking forward to walking the dog to the coffee shop early in the morning. I also have plans to stop at AJ’s grocery store. Their deli has what they call sticky buns—pecan rolls held together with sugary stuff. I don’t know exactly what’s in it, but I know they’re delicious.

I’ll go to church, spend some time with Faye, and enjoy a change of scenery. Nothing particularly complicated. Those ordinary pleasures are what I’m looking forward to most.

It’s funny how getting ready for something enjoyable can make a person anxious. You can want to go and still feel uneasy about getting there. Both feelings can fit in the same suitcase.

For now, I’ll finish packing and make my way to Des Moines. Tomorrow I’ll take the next step.

And before long, I hope to have a dog beside me, a cup of coffee in my hand, and a pecan roll somewhere in my immediate future.

# When Breakfast Becomes Just a Cup of Coffee

This morning I had breakfast at the Villager Restaurant. Sunday will be its last day.

That got me thinking about how difficult it must be to keep a restaurant going these days, especially in a small rural community. When people need to stretch their money, eating out is one expense they can reduce. Someone who used to order breakfast might settle for a cup of coffee. Others might stay home altogether.

Those are reasonable decisions for a household budget. But what happens when enough customers make the same decision?

The restaurant still has bills to pay.

Food, wages, electricity, heating, insurance, and building expenses have to come out of what customers spend. Raising menu prices may help cover those expenses, but it can also make customers think twice about coming in.

There is evidence that people are cutting back. The National Restaurant Association recently reported that 45 percent of surveyed consumers said they spent less at full-service restaurants over the previous year. That doesn’t mean everyone stopped eating out. It means many people are watching those dollars more carefully. 

Meanwhile, restaurant prices continue to rise. According to the USDA, eating-out prices in September were 3.5 percent higher than a year earlier, while grocery prices were up 1.8 percent. Cooking at home still costs money, but it gives people another way to manage their budget.

I wondered whether this should be called an “inflationary recession.” But high prices and a recession are different things. A recession means a broad decline in economic activity lasting more than a few months. Families and individual businesses can struggle even while the overall economy grows. 

Perhaps “the squeeze from high prices” describes it better. Even when inflation slows, the prices we pay do not automatically return to what they used to be.

I suspect that squeeze can be particularly difficult for a small-town restaurant. There are only so many potential customers nearby. Losing a few regular breakfasts each morning could make a meaningful difference over a month.

That does not establish why the Villager is closing. I don’t know all the circumstances behind the decision. Owners may face questions about retirement, health, staffing, expenses, or finding someone to take over. It would be unfair to assume a single explanation.

But its closing does raise a larger question about what it takes to keep our local gathering places open.

A restaurant provides more than food. It gives people somewhere to sit down, see familiar faces, and talk about what is happening around town. For someone living alone, that morning visit may be an important part of the day.

We all have to live within our means. Nobody should feel obligated to buy a breakfast they cannot afford. Still, when we can support a local business we value, our purchases help pay for more than what arrives on the plate.

Sunday will be the Villager’s last day. I’ll miss having breakfast there, and I’m sorry to see another place for people to gather close its doors.

Iowa’s Harvest: Catching Up After the Rain

 

Here in Sac County, we pay attention to the corn and soybean harvest even when we aren’t the ones driving the combines. The crops matter to our neighbors, our businesses, and the whole local economy.

This fall, rain has made that harvest a challenge. But farmers have recently made substantial progress.

The latest statewide report, covering conditions through Sunday, October 25, showed 47 percent of Iowa’s corn harvested and 78 percent of its soybeans harvested. Both crops advanced by 21 percentage points in a week. Corn remained behind the five-year average of 67 percent, while soybeans were closer to their average of 84 percent.

Those figures also explain something about newspaper headlines. A report published Monday or appearing in Tuesday’s paper may describe what was happening on Sunday. By the time we read it, farmers may have put in another full day or two.

Around my part of Sac County, the scattered rain yesterday did not seem heavy enough to cause much interruption. Some places may have received very little. That is my local impression, however, rather than an official county harvest estimate.

Conditions vary across Iowa. In September, Iowa State University agronomists reported wet fields interfering with harvest in northwest Iowa. They also raised concerns about weakened stalks and ear molds, which can make waiting to harvest a gamble.

One question on my mind is what it will cost to dry the corn.

Corn harvested with too much moisture needs drying for storage or delivery requirements. Iowa State estimates that a typical high-temperature dryer uses about 0.018 gallon of propane per bushel for each percentage point of moisture removed. At an illustrative propane price of $1.70 a gallon, drying corn from 20 percent moisture to 15 percent would cost about 15 cents per bushel in propane alone. For 100,000 bushels, that comes to roughly $15,300, before electricity and other expenses. Actual costs depend on the dryer, weather, fuel contract, and grain moisture.

Iowa’s surveyed residential propane price rose from about $1.63 to $1.70 a gallon between October 5 and October 19. Farm prices may differ. We should also be careful about attributing that increase to the Ukraine war without evidence connecting it to this particular price movement.

For now, farmers are making up ground. The statewide numbers show a strong week of work, and what I see locally gives me reason to be hopeful. A few more good harvesting days could make a considerable difference—for the corn still standing and for the people working to bring it home.

Growing Older: What Can I Do for Myself?

At 79, I have reason to think about aging. I have diabetes and take medication for my heart. I would like to stay active and independent for as long as I can.

As a Christian Scientist, I’m not especially enthusiastic about taking medication. My faith matters to me, and so does the question of what I can do for myself each day.

Recently I watched part of a YouTube video about food and inflammation. Two foods it discussed were extra virgin olive oil and wild salmon. That caught my attention. Could better food choices make a difference as we grow older?

There is some sound advice behind that idea. Inflammation is part of the body’s normal defense system, but inflammation that persists can contribute to health problems. Harvard Health includes olive oil, fatty fish, vegetables, fruit, and nuts among foods that can fit an eating pattern aimed at reducing inflammation.

The American Heart Association also recommends eating fish, especially fatty fish such as salmon, twice a week. Olive oil is a familiar part of a Mediterranean-style diet.

That doesn’t mean one food will cure what ails us. The bigger question is what we eat regularly. A little olive oil on a salad is one choice; making vegetables, beans, whole grains, and other nourishing foods a regular part of meals is a broader habit.

Exercise is already part of my life. I lift weights, swim, and ride a bicycle. I enjoy being able to do those things, and I want to keep doing them. Now I’m thinking more about the food side of the equation.

I do need to be careful about drawing conclusions. I can’t assume every ache or health problem comes from inflammation. And having diabetes and taking heart medication means that major changes in my treatment need a conversation with my health care provider.

Still, I believe daily habits deserve serious attention. I want to understand what my meals and activities can contribute to my health, alongside the care I receive.

Getting older gives me more reason to take those ordinary choices seriously. I still have things I want to do.

Further reading:
Harvard Health: Foods that fight inflammation

American Heart Association: Fish and Omega-3 Fatty Acids

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Make the Computer Work for You

 

I enjoy working on old laptops. There is something satisfying about taking a computer that somebody else has given up on and getting it useful again. Sometimes a little more memory or a different operating system gives it a new lease on life.

But sometimes I catch myself doing things the hard way.

Lately, I have been troubleshooting some of these old machines with help from ChatGPT. We have spent quite a bit of time using the Linux terminal, typing commands to install software and get hardware working. We recently got the Wi-Fi working on one of my oldest laptops, which was a satisfying accomplishment.

Still, I realized something: we should start with the easier tools.

On Linux Mint, there is a Software Manager where you can search for a program and install it by clicking a button. There is also Synaptic Package Manager, which gives you more control over software packages. These tools handle many of the details that otherwise require typing commands.

The terminal has its place. Sometimes it is exactly what you need. But that does not mean it has to be the first stop for every problem.

Part of my difficulty is that I am often talking to ChatGPT on one computer while working on another. I cannot simply copy a command and paste it into the machine I am fixing. I have to read it, turn to the other computer, and type it correctly.

That sounds simple until you have a long command full of slashes, dashes, and characters that look almost alike.

My eyesight is not what it used to be. With cataracts and glaucoma, telling the difference between the number one, a capital I, and a lowercase L can be a challenge. One wrong character can mean another error message and another round of figuring out what happened.

So I asked for a different approach: use the graphical tools first, give me one step at a time, and make the instructions easier to read.

There is no prize for making a job harder than it needs to be.

That lesson applies beyond computers. As we get older, we can change how we do things without giving up the things we enjoy. Larger print, clearer instructions, and a simpler method can make a frustrating task enjoyable again.

I still intend to tinker with old laptops. I still expect to learn something along the way. But I would rather spend my time seeing what a computer can do than struggling to read a command.

After all, the computer is supposed to work for us.

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