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Financial Whiz Andrew Samalin Keeps it Positive

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Plans for his firm’s Memorial Day festivities were uppermost on Andrew Samalin’s mind when we sat down to discuss “positivity” for this issue.

Last year, the activities at King Street’s “old Crown House,” home of the award-winning investment advisory firm Samalin Investment Counsel, LLC, drew a few hundred people, and this year it’s going to be even better, Samalin said. Think face painting, balloon animals, cotton candy and more. Most of all we are lucky to have Maurice the Magician (who in his words, “is the best magician in his price range!!!”)

In part, Samalin is simply preserving the tradition of the former Crown House owners, but with two young ones of his own (Matthew, 6 and Talia, 4) he has his own special incentive! “It’s great for little kids,” noted Samalin. “It’s tough to be in a bad mood while eating cotton candy…” noted Samalin, who bought and renovated the Crown House in May 2010. The project was featured in the New York Times and highlighted Samalin’s ability to focus on a positive outcome in a difficult environment.

Great too are the accomplishments at Samalin which manages $130 million in client assets custodied at Fidelity Investments, with underlying client net worth of about a ½ billion, according to Samalin, who has been named in multiple arenas as one of the country’s Top RIAs. He developed the “BridgeProcess,” a proprietary wealth management process “by which we look to manage three essential goals: risks, returns, and income.” His firm’s success, he said, revolves around its ability to expertly address these essential tasks with its clients.

“Our market niche is attorneys and their clients; we offer unbiased,
fee-only independent financial analysis and management without any corporate agenda.” If the financial crisis taught us anything it’s that advice may not reside solely in the providence of corporate behemoths; rather, it’s between people. Samalin noted that virtually everyone has blind spots in life, be it professional, personal or financial. “Our clients hire us to identify and help them find those financial blind spots, and manage through them.”

A strong focus at the firm is in the arena of divorce financial planning. He views his role as helping couples both understand their assets and income so that they can knowledgeably assess them, and in doing so, minimize the stress in the divorce process. In divorce, he noted, there’s frequently a financial knowledge disparity between the money and non moneyed spouse. “We help bridge that gap so that both parties come out feeling protected. It’s a delicate process but can radically change the outcome,” he said.

“Our goal is to help them achieve a positive financial outcome both pre and post divorce,” Samalin noted. “We are all faced with circumstances that we might prefer to be different; it’s how we hold and manage through them that makes all the difference.” In the interim, cotton candy and snow cones on King Street on Memorial Day is positively a great choice.
– Grace Bennett

Humanizing Dogs

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By Rick Reynolds

Way back in the early days of RLL, 
I did a number of pet-related stories and finally decided enough was enough. There were too many stories in the media where people anthropomorphized their dogs, cats, and parrots–all too often giving them human characteristics which I frankly thought was unfair to the pets. Our pets are not us, no matter how much we spend on their health care.

For example, people speak to their pets on subjects the sorry animals couldn’t possibly relate to. Take my wife: Every time she leaves the house for the day, she tells our two dogs she’ll be right back–or that she’ll be back in an hour. One of our dogs doesn’t even have a watch and couldn’t tell time if he did. And neither have a sense of time. I would never want to confuse the poor mutts in that way. She’s being dishonest with them, knowing full well they’ll be asleep the whole time and not know any better.

Personally, I tell the dogs that I’ll be back in “three shakes of a lamb’s tail.” See; this plays to their sensibilities. My Cockapoo, Milo, who looks like a carnivorous sheep, has surprisingly large teeth and definitely picks up on the “lamb” references. Petey, a Yorkiepoo, while not as bright, gets the “lamb” vibe through Milo. But it doesn’t take an Australian Shepherd to know what “three shakes of a lamb’s tail” means.

Myself, I’m not entirely sure how long that time interval is, but I imagine a lamb wouldn’t take long twitching its tail a few times. However, this way, if I’m not back for 8 hours, I haven’t technically lied to the dogs. Credibility is everything in a pet relationship.

My daughter tells me that dogs don’t “speak” English, which is, of course, nonsense. Every time Milo, the cocker/poodle mix, chews my wife’s new boots, I admonish him NOT to tell her who left the gate to the mudroom shoe cubbies open, and he’s never betrayed me–even under my wife’s brutal interrogation. Except for a little drool and teeth chattering, his lips remain sealed.

And when I ask the dogs directly who chewed the fireplace wood and spread the splinters all over the rug, the guilty party always slinks away trembling. Of course they know English–as a second language, of course.

My dogs’ first language could be characterized as “yappy” and it can be ear piercing, so I often have to ask them to use indoor voices, or if that fails, to use words. Small dogs tend to whine more than large dogs, having trouble articulating their true feelings in non-pathetic, albeit wolf-like ways.

But contrary to public opinion, not all small, cute dogs are females. I can’t tell you how many passers-by assume my dogs are girls. Even if the names, “Petey,” and “Milo” didn’t hint at their gender, their lifting their legs on these folks’ shoes should speak volumes–if not fluid ounces. And big dog people have no problem letting you know that they only like big dogs–even when the combined weight of your two bruisers is just under 20 lbs. These big dog people don’t know it, but small dog people think big dog people are insecure and need big dogs as proxies for their latent inadequacies. I don’t go that far, but I do get amused when they fail to pick up on my dogs’ leg lifting and walk away with wet socks.

So, while many dog owners give their pets human characteristics, it is likely our dogs think of us as the more irrational and juvenile of mammals. We talk gibberish around them, and buy squeak toys that are no match for the real squeals of live prey.

Chappaqua alumnus and 35-year resident of Chappaqua, humorist Rick Reynolds resides in southern New Hampshire with his wife, daughter,
and two dogs.

Ten Ways to Save on Your Air Conditioning Bill!

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By Anthony Marmo

After a warmer than usual winter, including record high temperatures in March, many Westchester residents wonder what kind of heat we’ll experience this summer. They also want to know how to keep comfortable but not spend too much on air conditioning. Here’s what I advise all my clients!

 

1. Replace the filter in your air conditioner at the beginning of the season, and check if it needs replacing every month during the summer.

2. Seal up all the drafts in your home. Heat travels from where it is greater to where it is less, so check weather stripping and caulking around windows and doors, and reseal areas that allow hot air inside.

3. Keep your thermostat on, but a few degrees higher than normal during daytime hours when no one is home. For example, if you keep the thermostat at 72 when you are home, keep it at 77 while away. The home will not become so hot that the air conditioning has to run at peak for several hours to cool the home.

4. Set automatic thermostats to cool the home when you need it to be cooled, and turn up when away, or during cooler hours overnight.

5. Keep shades and blinds closed during daylight hours to reduce the sun’s warmth inside the house.

6. Wait until evening, when it is cooler, to run the dishwasher, clothes dryer and other heat producing appliances.

7. Keep bushes and other obstructions away from central air conditioner units. Also, hose off air intake fins to remove dirt and cobwebs.

Moisture control is half the battle in keeping the home comfortable. Our bodies naturally cool themselves with evaporation of moisture on the skin. If the air in the home is dry, evaporation happens more efficiently and we feel more comfortable. To keep moisture levels down inside the house, follow the next three tips:

8. Keep an automatic dehumidifier in the basement to catch moisture at its main source and keep it from creeping up into the living areas.

9. Run ventilation fans when using the kitchen and bathroom. These fans are not only for smoke and odors, but they also help remove moisture when cooking, running the dishwasher, or taking a shower.

10. Inspect pipes throughout the home to be sure there are no leaks.

Anthony Marmo is the owner of Clover Comfort in Sleepy Hollow. Call 914-631-6744 for a free home evaluation. For more information about home air conditioning, heating, and ventilation, go to www.clovercool.com, or visit www.facebook.com/CloverComfort.

Ricks Last Licks: Men’s Pockets

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By Rick Reynolds

By and large, women don’t have pockets, so they don’t understand the problems associated with them. Pockets accumulate stuff that, in turn, can cause friction in relationships, damage in expensive machinery, and even legal problems. Allow me to explain.

First of all, there’s the complexity of the issue. Men have two shirt pockets, four to eight pants pockets (if you count inter-pocket change pouches and leg pockets), and two sweater vest pockets, not to mention fleece, jacket & coat pockets. That’s a hell of a lot of pockets to keep track of. To make matters worse, my wife is always asking me to carry something for her because she has no pockets. When I point to her pockets, she tells me they’re only decorative. So what’s the problem? you ask.

To begin with, there’s the issue of laundry. Try as I might, I can never seem to empty all the pockets, all the time. In any given pocket, at any given moment, there can be anything from gum, to money, to balled-up paper towels, to car keys, to Magic Markers, to incriminating food receipts–and a smart phone.

Gum alone has nearly cost me my marriage. Gum and dryers make a bad combo. Washing machines and smart phones are a bad combo. Back in my Chappaqua days, my wife and I dry cleaned most everything, and the nice drycleaners would hand me a large bag with all my pocket stuff when I picked up. Now my wife hands me ultimatums when our clothes become co-mingled in bubble gum.


Ball-ups are another quandary. I have a problem with paper towels in that I compulsively tear them off and they end up as ball-ups in my pockets. After a thorough washing, much of them ends up as lint in the dryer, but some act as carriers for the–well, the bubble gum. On the bright side, I am sometimes able to reuse the nicely laundered paper towels, if not the bubble gum.

Paper money is less of a problem, though my fifties end up so bleached out they get inspected at retail outlets. Change is another story. Coins make a racket in the dryer and can damage delicate fabrics. But interestingly, pocket change can even cause legal issues.

I was once prepping for a legal dispute with a rogue business associate when my attorney asked what the noise was emanating from my pocket. It took me a while to locate the source of the noise, but in fact, I was jingling my loose change, which I was told, in no uncertain terms, was a no-no. Apparently it would indicate nervousness and therefore guilt in the eyes of the arbitrator. And here I was the plaintiff! I told my lawyer that, as the complainant, I deserved to be a little edgy.
After relieving me of my coins, my lawyer then asked me what the new clicking sound was. To make a long story short, he took my Tic Tacs too–and subsequently sequestered my Altoids–saying this fidgeting with my mints projected a lack of confidence–indeed, an audible indictment of my credibility. As such, he would not be able to represent me unless I emptied ALL my pockets.

Despite winning the case decisively in arbitration, my pockets were still under siege. My legal fees “coincidentally” came out to precisely the same figure as the compensatory damage award, leaving my pockets, once and for all—truly empty. And while I wasn’t actually out of pocket, my wife thought of it as justice served.

Chappaqua alumnus and 35-year resident of Chappaqua, humorist Rick Reynolds resides in southern New Hampshire with his wife, daughter,
and two dogs.

Withering Heights

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By Rick Reynolds

In a population obsessed with its widths, I’m afraid of heights. Acrophobia. Put me on the edge of a cliff, and I’ll soil myself every time. Some people can walk right up to the edge and peer over. My wife, for one. Early on, I asked her if she’d think less of me if she knew I was afraid of heights. She reassured me that she couldn’t possibly think less of me.

When approaching a cliff, I start leaning back a full 50 meters from the edge, stopping altogether when I hit the 25 meter mark, frozen in my tracks. I don’t understand why: If I drew a line on a gymnasium floor, I could run up to it and stop right on the line. But when it’s a cliff, or tall building, or bridge, I feel something drawing me over the edge. I simply don’t trust myself. My head gets woozy, my legs go wobbly, and I feel the sudden neo-natal need to nurse. I’ve been slapped more than once in such situations.

Interestingly, I have no fear of heights when in a plane, or watching the Outside Channel on TV. I was even briefly in the flying club at college, before I threw up in the flight simulator. Generally speaking, as long as I’m fully contained, I’m good with it. I’m good on ski gondolas, as long as I can ride them back down. Drop me in a capsule from the International Space Station, and I’ll ask for a window seat. But left to my own devices, something manic takes over, drawing me into the abyss.

What inside me do I not trust? I’m fearless when it comes to using power tools (like electric screwdrivers), and intrepid crossing cow pastures in snowshoes. So, why should I not trust myself with anything higher than a step stool? Moreover, why must I feel nervous for others who have no signs of Acrophobia? I once rounded up all the tourists’ children at the rim of the Grand Canyon and scolded their parents for letting them out of the car. Meanwhile, my own child was safely harnessed to me while I was,
in turn, tethered to a large tree.

And speaking of trusting oneself, would you pack your own parachute? I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t pack my own suitcase—let alone, parachute. I’d want a professional, full-time, fully-licensed parachute packer (preferably one I never sold a car to) to pack my chute. No paraprofessionals—if you will. I’d want only seasoned, serious parachute packers, without too much of a sense of humor, who loved their jobs, and had no problem with insomnia. Finally, I’d want their favorite offspring strapped to my chest for insurance–and a note from their ophthalmologists.

Even then, upon jumping out of the plane, I’d suddenly have to weedle. Every time I get nervous, I have to weedle. I mentioned this problem once to a parachute jump instructor I met in therapy. She assured me that I’d only have to worry about wet trousers if I landed safely: if the chute didn’t open, they’d be blown-dry by the time I hit the ground.

While I found this somewhat comforting, it brought to the forefront my overarching issue: My worry isn’t so much about getting back to Earth, but how far into it.

So whether it’s a fear of mortality, or pain, or undue wetness, I’ve learned to forgive myself for this weakness. Everyone deserves one failing and, like the presidential candidates during debates, I can’t think of any other flaws I have.

Chappaqua alumnus and 35-year resident of Chappaqua, humorist Rick Reynolds resides in southern New Hampshire with his wife, daughter,
and two dogs.