I sauntered through Lowe’s like I owned the joint, buying tools I didn’t really need. And then I went to Foot Locker and bought a pair of tennis shoes, just because. And the Orvis store was in my sights, where I bought fishing gear for no good reason at all. I ate a huge, overpriced steak for lunch.
Come Sunday, I felt strangely cold.
It happens every time I do this.
I realize that materialism is such a false lover. It leaves me empty in the end with nothing to show but worn-out possessions and a hefty bill to pay.
With the financial crisis still upon our land, we are thinking 
about all the things we are losing — stock balances, 401ks, big televisions, new cars. We mistakenly believe that more money will cure us. It doesn’t.
Rich people are lonely. I’ve seen it while I lived as a pauper in one of the most affluent communities in the nation. I heard and saw it all. Parties. Purchases. Plans. These people often substituted busyness for importance. And at night, like the rest of us, they still look in the mirror and the hollowness mocked them.
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