35
Miss Sally's Attic

Daydreaming, or “thought experiments”—as Albert Einstein described his extraordinary hypothetical reasoning—can take us away from our conventional habits of thought and action, perhaps with important benefits.

In the attic of my grandmother's home in the Delta region of Mississippi—where the Yalobusha flows into the Tallahatchie to form the Yazoo River and where we were living while Dad was in the Pacific during World War II—there were pieces of history and adventure for a boy with scabs on his knees, a crew cut, no need for shoes, and time on his hands.

My grandfather's full-dress Spanish-American War uniform bore witness to why he was known by all as “Cap'n”; a birding shotgun in the corner fit with the tale of my grandmother's taking 10 doves with 10 shots from horseback riding side-saddle; a peck basket of pottery shards and broken arrowheads was only part of the dig she ran for three 24-hour days barely before the highway builders bulldozed the burial mound at Belzoni; and it was almost certainly possible to see the stain where the peach brandy burst its cask on a hot summer day during Prohibition and leaked slowly but completely onto the big double bed reserved for a visiting revival preacher.

I loved that attic and the woman called “Miss Sally” by everyone except her husband, Cap'n, who preferred just “Sally.” And I hope this brief piece will help readers pass some time with interest and pleasure.

Have you truly thought through and worked out the important components of your long-term investment program and established sound long-term investment policies? If you are a plan sponsor, do you have a sound set of investment objectives and appropriate policies by which to achieve them? If you are an investment manager, do you really have a clear and consistent investment concept or philosophy and a well-defined process by which to make investment decisions? Here's an easy and interesting way to find out for yourself.

Assume—partly for entertainment, but primarily for eventual clarity—that you have been summoned (with great respect, but on very short notice) to the White House, where you are meeting in the Oval Office with the President. As he confides to you his most important concerns, you agree (with some genuine surprise, since you had never anticipated such a situation) to accept his request to serve your country in a very special way.

You are going on an extraordinary secret mission. This particular mission has a remarkable requirement. You will be gone—and will remain completely incommunicado—for 10 consecutive years. Fortunately, there will be no risk of physical danger, and you are sure to return safely. Your income will be continued and your job protected for your return. The President assures you that your family and friends will know of your mission and will be both proud and grateful that you are engaged in the highest form of patriotic service. You will return a national hero at the end of a decade.

While there is no time to lose, the President has arranged for an hour's visit with your loved ones—they will join you in the Rose Garden—and is providing an additional hour before they will arrive, during which you can ensure the proper handling of all your investment responsibilities for the next 10 years. This is possible because the President has also arranged to have a very capable and reliable professional take over the day-to-day and year-to-year responsibilities of managing your investments.

While you will not be able to meet him (because he cannot get to the White House before it will be time for you to leave on your mission), this Competent Stranger is clearly able, willing, and determined to do exactly what you instruct him to do. While you await the arrival of your loved ones, the President invites you to sit at the large table in the adjacent Cabinet Room and write out your specific instructions for the Competent Stranger. You are secure in the knowledge that he will do just as you instruct—but nothing more and nothing less.

How well prepared are you to write out the requisite instructions for the Competent Stranger? Is there any reason to wait for the President's call to duty on a secret mission? Why not develop your program now—as if you were preparing to instruct the Competent Stranger—and then use it yourself?