Adventures at Midlife

Despite today’s screaming banner headlines in the NYTimes and the Wall Street Journal, the “bailout bust” may not be the end of the world as we know it:

According to the venerable and highly visible Lou Dobbs (at cnn.com) —

Economist after economist, with whom I’ve spoken, CEOs, they acknowledge that there are far better ways to deal with the issues confronting our financial system than this bailout. And it’s absolutely obscenely irresponsible of House Speaker [Nancy] Pelosi, Treasury Secretary [Henry] Paulson, President Bush, Sen. Harry Reid, the leader of the Senate; for these people to be clucking about like hysterical — so hysterically. It really must stop…

[The Republican and Democratic leadership] don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re trying to ram this thing down the people’s throats and Congress. And those House Republicans and House Democrats who voted against this bailout deserve a great, great expression of thanks from the American people. Absolutely.

And, at the end of trading today, the Dow had regained nearly two-thirds of yesterday’s historic losses. So go figure. Somebody with money out there seems to think there’s something to invest in, even if it’s only Warren Buffett.

Sigh… What to do, what to do. From the vantage point out here in Dusty Corner, it doesn’t look like there’s a single “safe” place to put your money (including under the mattress). Some friends and fellow blogsters are obsessively consulting their portfolios, figuring out down to the decimal point just how much they’ve lost over the last few days, but that seems pretty masochistic to me. (But then, I refuse to weigh myself every day, too. Why should a mere number determine how I’m going to feel about myself?)

Anybody remember the old Garry Moore Show, which existed if for no other reason than to give the world Jonathan Winters and Carol Burnett? I remember as a kid watching a “Wonderful Year” segment featuring a then-unknown actress-singer singing a bluesy “Happy Days Are Here Again” while using her diamond earrings to pay for champagne. The year they were celebrating? Sometime around 1929. The singer? Barbra Streisand.

I kind of feel that way, but there’s a precedent for that. A few years ago, I got a really scary medical diagnosis, a largely untreatable condition that could turn fatal. (Too hard to explain. Some other time.)

I remember the doctor — who had the personality of a piece of cardboard — patting me on the shoulder on the way out of his office. I walked to and got in my car, called The Spouse and blubbered the results to him, and then had a good cry. And then — I dried my tears, put on my seatbelt and GOT ON WITH MY LIFE. Short of taking to my bed for the duration, which sounded boring, there was nothing else to be done. And, so far, I’m fine.

So break out the champagne. I still have a few diamonds left. My life remains whole and good. This too shall pass.