Sitting in the parking lot of a Marriott Express in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, swigging a drive-through drink the size my head and trying to map directions to my cousin’s memorial service was not the location I imagined trying to have “the talk” with my brother, and realizing (again!) that I was living one accident or illness away from financial catastrophe.
Turns out, most of us are.
An hour before, our parents had gotten a call. My dad’s brother was very ill. “It was time.” It was a four- or five-hour drive, and it was suggested that they hurry. They headed south to St. Louis, and we would go to the funeral home and share their condolences.
Four years after my …
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