"You can't take it with you when you go."

“You can’t take it with you when you go.”

 

I hope this week’s edition of our newsletter finds you all well. I have to say it’s cold and dreary today in Tokyo, we’ve been enjoying some very pleasant weather of late, but today feels like we’ve headed back to winter, rain an’ all brrrrrrr.

I think you’ll find something in this week’s your one or two stories to interest you, if not, there’s always the one or two verses of poetry to have a go at. Speaking of which, I’d better plough on, so until next week, keep well and eat well.

You can’t take it with you when you go

Money is meant to be earned fairly like respect and spent or used wisely like time.
It’s not meant to be borrowed or lent or unwisely spent on household rent.
It’s not supposed to be saved in copious amounts and left behind to have others enjoy the fruits of the hardships you had to endure.
Why did you struggle for all those years trying to fool others into thinking you and your family were poor.

Spend it before you go and then you’ll know that after you’ve passed over to the other side there won’t be people squabbling about how much more one was left than the other, and asking why you didn’t include into your will the brother you hadn’t spoken to for a long time.
You can tell them it was because he long since heard his last chime, and unfortunately time never sweetened the bitterness of lime that was squeezed out over your relationship in past time.

You’ve more than paid your dues to a home filled with three children and a wife, but they have endured a deprived life.
You can’t take what you have with you it should have been spent over a period of time on the three you’ve left behind.
But you didn’t and it’s now too late, you’re not allowed to take it with you through the gate.

A poem by Stephen Austwick