Add this to the mix of the weird and wonderful. I signed the contract to be a Communications Consultant for a non-profit devoted to providing housing for the rest of us. Island Roots Housing
Happy to help. I’m a fan of Island County (search through this blog for Whidbey Island or Island County). Really, I am a fan of not being in The Big City, or Greater Suburbia (money and other things making it all negotiable, of course). Rural counties have special needs. I think urban models have difficulties when they encounter the land of septic tanks and roads that never saw a grid.
Search through this blog for Tiny House, Tiny Home, or Affordable Housing, and find years of posts about tinies. Spread out into work I’ve done for Curbed/Seattle and 360modern.com and find more. Finally, I get to move into one. I get to meet my material in reality. (recent post)
Irony is having fun with me, and I suspect it isn’t done.
Island Roots is not building tiny houses. They’re more conventional because creating any housing is a big enough challenge. NIMBY happens.
Parts of the US economy are doing stellar. Wealth is obvious in tourist towns. Notice, however, how many of the baristas are bicycling in out of necessity, not choice. Notice the parking lots a bit removed from the stores and see cars that look forward to some maintenance, that may be deferred because the rent must be paid before a ding is pounded out.
Island Roots Housing is starting small. I am only now learning if they want to grow. I do know, that regardless of its size, millions of people are hunting for solutions that work in this era. We’re far removed from 1954. Things have changed and old approaches are no longer solutions. I cheer anyone who is organizing such efforts. I also cheer anyone who has the resources and skills to frugally build their own sustainable house sustainably.
Hmm. Maybe that’s next after the My Tiny Experiment? Nah. I’d contract it out. But who knows? I’m me and I don’t know what I will do. You are invited to stay tuned to me, Island Roots, and anyone trying to find new solutions within the anachronisms that somehow persist.
Welcome to another story and another video in my One Company One Story series. This time, Fate Therapeutics (FATE).
Here comes the amateur legalese.
I began investing in companies and their stocks in the late 70s, but am Not a certified investment professional.
My style and history of investing is described in Dream. Invest. Live., a book I wrote by request – which came out as the Great Recession (the Second Great Depression) began. Don’t underestimate luck. Oops.
I am Not an investment professional. This is Not financial advice.
“To produce better cell therapies, we apply our proprietary iPSC product platform to create multiplexed-engineered, clonal master iPSC lines having preferred biological properties.” – Fate Technologies
“So that, as clear as is the summer’s sun.” – Folger Shakespeare Library
Or not.
They (Fate Therapeutics) use special stem cells to treat cancers and autoimmune diseases, or at least they hope to. Investing in biotech requires trusting to luck, or learning a lot of arcane words that are more accurate but not necessarily more descriptive to those of us without advanced degrees in biology, medicine, chemistry, and things like that. (Disclaimer: My degree is in aerospace and ocean engineering. In my opinion, Fate’s technology is tougher than rocket science.) The ‘hope to’ part comes in because they are an early-stage company. They have a few treatments in Phase 1 clinical trials, which is one step past lab studies, but at least a couple more studies away from commercialization and treating the general public – as I understand it.
Fate is yet another classic risk/reward tradeoff. Developing treatments for combating one cancer is big enough. Dealing with more than one can have a multiplier effect. Adding autoimmune treatments is a similar broad branch that is approached from a narrower beginning. Cancer and autoimmune diseases are paired because they both can be influenced by controlling cell death. Cells that don’t die can lead to cancer. (As I understand it.) Cells that die too readily is one way to describe autoimmune disorders. (As I understand it.)
The risk is that novel technologies must be proven in an already heavily conservative industry: ultimately, healthcare. The reward is that many existing treatments are not as effective as desired, so there is an unmet need for breakthroughs.
Fate is not the only biotech that has realized this. The current industry is enormous and can be very ineffective. Trying to get a breakthrough to break through is difficult, expensive, and there are many competitors aware of the situation. But which one will succeed?
While it may be fun to make fun of their description, it is also necessary. Biotechs have enormous responsibilities, so must be precise, even at the cost of confusing the uninitiated. That’s where there’s an advantage to the investor who is willing to learn more than a less-determined investor. The treatments may have high demand, but many investors want simpler investments. Lower demand can lead to lower prices, which can be an opportunity.
Take a look at the $FATE hashtag on Twitter (won’t call it X), and see lots of autobot traffic but very little actual human commentary.
Maybe it makes more sense to use the names they use on their web site: Stem Cells and Killer T Cells.
I have invested in companies that use similar approaches, which helps me; but even with that background, I will learn more before doing anything more.
Google FinanceGoogle Finance
After lingering under $10 for much of its early years, FATE spiked to over $100 in January 2021. The stock closed at $4.79 on April 19, 2024, so evidently, that spike didn’t stick. It is an example of how radically such stocks can move. While it looks like not much is happening, its twelve-month trading range is from under $2 to over $8. On a normal stock, that would be worth noting. As with many biotechs, such swings are possible because science, funding, and competition can dramatically change several times between now and the targeted commercialization.
I don’t know what’s going to happen; but, I hope they survive and thrive. I’ll be watching.
Look at them sitting there on the floor, their boxes open like a nest of baby birds waiting to be fed. I’m moving. So is everything in my house that isn’t nailed down. That’s what happens when I sell one house and prepare to move to another. I’m moving. Ive considered myself somewhat of a minimalist. So, where’d all this stuff come from?
For those who want to catch up on the story so far, browse back through recent posts to learn more about my Tiny House experiment. This week’s update: inspections and an appraiser, and I don’t know how that story is going to proceed. I do know that my arms aren’t skinny enough to do some of the things that need to be done. More about that later; in the meantime, I apologize to the spiders I had to disturb.
Any minimalism I have is largely due to not having much as I grew up. I had more than my older brothers, but in retrospect, lots of the kids around us had a lot more. I was lucky, however, because my parents’ frugal ways meant I didn’t have to take out a loan to go to college. (And yes, it was a different era. $833/quarter, as I recall. I’m trying to remember if that included room and food.)
It didn’t take much to move me from Pittsburgh to Seattle. A chest of drawers. An old box spring metal frame for a bed. No other furniture except a door for a desk and a table held up by cinder blocks. Skip forward about three years, and it was handy having almost nothing because I moved back to college in Virginia (VPI&SU) for my Masters. Skip forward three years, and I’d finished that, got my job back (an epic and dramatic story), and actually bought a kitchen table and a living room set. Note: no bed, just a futon on the floor. I write all of that to pass along this. As I sold that house because I got married (temporarily), prospective buyers commented on the house being vacant – even before I packed up anything. Is that minimal enough?
Intervening years brought more furniture, but divide by two, and after my divorce, I was able to move with one truckload. Little has changed since then. But something has. Even as friends commented on how little I owned, somehow, I’ve accumulated 19 years of stuff. Maybe I finally have enough boxes, but oy! One storage unit filling on Whidbey Island. One storage unit in Port Townsend just leased, where I’m heading. And there’s still a house full of stuff.
Well, yes and no. I’ll spare you those details, but this move has been an incredible journey through accumulated history. It is hard to not have stuff. Maybe moving more often would help.
So, about those empty-mouthed boxes. They are mostly full, but waiting for a last few bits. These boxes have been more pivotal than most. They are art. Some are from my artistic friends, which I consider Art. None are pretentious pieces of ART. Most are my photos that I enjoy but easily drop into critique mode. That’s the nature of many artists. It was the boxing of the art that made the move visceral. It was seeing the bare walls without art on them. I hadn’t realized that without the art, my home was easier to describe as just a house.
With that many boxes, am I still a minimalist? I think so. I’ve been packing for weeks, amongst other things, of course. After all of those boxes and trips to the storage unit, donation sites, the recycle yards, and the dump, I still haven’t fundamentally changed the way I live. Boxes on boxes. Spiders dislodged. Dust, oy, dust! And I struggle to think of anything I’m missing. The DVD player is gone, so I miss that, but it was near the end of its useful life. Aside from that? Not much is missing from my core life.
As I sit here typing this post, I know that soon this chair will be donated. My tiny house is going to have a lot higher percentage of folding furniture. My 26″? TV/monitor would look out of place. I can see a microwave that will carry its rust into the dump. So, there will be changes; but, I’m realizing that what is in those boxes may stay there for years, even if I move to a larger place later in life.
Boxes of other authors’ books can be a casual drive from the tiny to the storage unit. Boxes of my books wouldn’t seem like much because all 18 books fit in less than half a box, but some of those books have dedicated boxes of background material, and presentation material for when I do talks and such. Unsold inventory will hopefully find a home, but many artists can paper their walls with yet-to-be-bought productions. There are also boxes of photos: personal and artistic and artistic-for-sale. I’m 65, so figure one box of memorabilia for every decade after turning ten. Family heirlooms are more passed around than passed down, and things that are too precious to trash and shuttled around hoping to find a home. And then there are the tools, hiking gear, bicycling gear, etc. Hopefully, they’ll get used after the move (which is within sight of Olympic National Park), but by simple bulk, they may have to live in storage – up front, preferably.
Lots of boxes.
But hardly any impact on my daily life.
I keep thinking about that.
One of the realities of any business transaction, and selling a house is a legal contractual ordeal, is that it is sometimes necessary to start over. Someone has to back out, or odd clauses surprise everyone, or interest rates change too much, etc. What would I have to do? Basically, nothing.
If this buyer has difficulties, my house would be back on the market, the boxes would be tidied up, I might re-arrange the storage unit, maybe buy a new DVD player (scandalous), but generally live as I live.
Stuff can own a person’s life. Things can pile up so high and deep that things get lost among the things. How many stuffed storage units are abandoned and forgotten about? They should have a show for that. (I know they do.) Every thing becomes one more thing to track and store. Another chore.
For me, this exercise has been a physical exercise (books and archival-framed wall art are heavy). It has also been a mental exercise. Go through the list of what, why, when, how for every piece. Move a lot and get through a lot. Move every other decade or so – and be glad I can get rid of things now, and to know why I have, what I have, how and when I got it, and whether I truly need it.
With that many boxes, am I still a minimalist? I think so, because my stuff doesn’t own me, and I know my stuff.
Tomorrow is a major hurdle. I’m prepared for a stumble, just in case. Much of modern real estate transactions is out of the direct control of the buyer and seller. I’ve been a real estate broker, and I am gladly not worrying those details by employing one a realtor. (Thank you, Gregory Young. I am So Glad I no longer have a job like yours. Besides, you’re better at it than I was.) And, just in case, I’ll live in a mostly empty house that lacks for little except for some art. Deciding what fits into the tiny house, well, that will definitely be a longer exercise. Stay tuned.
So, that’s been interesting. They accepted my offer on the tiny house (390 square feet, so you argue among yourselves about what’s truly tiny). It is contingent on many things, as usual for buying a house, which means key in hand and foot in the door hanging my hats is weeks away. But already, every day is filled with insights into how I live, how I can live, and what doesn’t get to be part of the new era. I really need to start carrying a tape measure around.
Does my couch, which is my bed, fit? It should. My tiny dining room table probably isn’t tiny enough, even if I drop it leaves. Will my bicycle fit under that awning or in that storage shed? Maybe, but wind will still carry rain into it. How big or small does that washer/dryer combo get to be, have to be to fit into that cubby?
I don’t have many clothes (#MassiveUnderstatement) until I realized how much closet space I need for a parka, heavy ski jacket, plus hiking gear, and bicycling gear, and grubbies for gardening. I plan on renting another storage unit. Will that be where my weekend wear lives?
My business papers will probably live there, too. So will my historical documents like old manuscripts, photos, book inventory, presentation materials, archival financial papers that I keep ‘just in case’.
One necessity of selling a house is leaving it when potential buyers want to see it. It’s April. Going for a walk in August can mean pausing at the beach until they leave. In April – it became an excuse to go food shopping because the Sun was hidden by the planet and the island was closed, except for a supermarket.
Walk through a supermarket and marvel at the choices, but how much storage room will I have? I’m single, so there isn’t much of a need, but I enjoy cooking and wonder what my pantry will be able to hold. Maybe many more and smaller trips to the market that isn’t ‘super’ but is much nicer. (Port Townsends’ Coop market is well-known for good reason.)
Pardon me. I have to sign a document accepting an offer on my house.
Authentisign done. We are now ‘mutual’, a real estate term that I felt should be wordsmithed but that’s a small fight requiring a large effort for no real benefit, except alleviating some confusion among inexperienced and normal homebuyers. Making real estate more attuned to non-brokers and non-lawyers is a gargantuan task largely ignored despite it involving most peoples’ largest transactions of their lives. But I digress.
A drink will celebrate the event after I’ve written this post. There’s an example of personal priorities: words over drinks.
And priorities bring this post back to the core of the choices I’ve confronted. Clearing, cleaning, and decluttering an 868-square-foot house down to fit into a 390 square-foot house (plus a storage unit or two) is teaching me about what I care about. That has a value I wouldn’t uncover otherwise.
This is an old story, but it becomes real rather than abstract when boxes that have only been peeked into in almost twenty years are handled, literally. One box for hometown stuff. One for family heirlooms and trinkets. One from college, including my Masters and its supporting material. One from Boeing. 747, 737, 767, a Chinese prop plane, R&D, High Speed Commercial Transport, Second Generation Space Shuttle, Reusable Launch Vehicle, a satellite Internet service set up – not Boeing material, but mementos of posters, pins, customer photos, etc. One for each of the books I’ve written (eight, so far). An odd-shaped and heavy box of photo prints that were exhibited in galleries. And realizing I saved photos before I considered myself a photographer as boxes of prints and slides hold early hand-developed black-and-whites from high school, color slide from college, and more and more.
And if you skipped over most of that paragraph you get an idea of dozens of boxes of history that have value, but that don’t have to be readily accessible every day. Storage unit!
A couple of days ago, I was in the new house for its inspection. Inspection of a tiny house? The square footage may not be much, but the number of appliances is nearly the same. And everything has to work because there are no spares. No spare bathroom to use if the other one leaks. No second fridge in the basement or carport.
That evening, I walked back into my big house and saw how much space it had that I never used – and that was only in 868 square feet. A neighbor and friend reiterated something I’ve known for a long time; people are usually only using a few square feet right around them, and that may only be for a few places in the house. Sleeping takes up the most space, but standing and sitting are much more vertical and have smaller footprints. If you’re living through your laptop or phone, you may not need much. You may be a minimalist without knowing it. That didn’t apply to kids who ran around a lot, but sitting is more common for them, too.
Wander through a hardware, housewares, and furniture store and realize how little of it is necessary. Now, start packing a house and handle a lot that isn’t necessary. Why am I handling all of this un-necessary stuff? That conversation becomes a self-examination of life, how it’s been lived, how it’s going to be lived, and how goals and assumptions change.
I mentioned owning a house, renting a storage unit, am probably going to rent another one, and then start fitting it all in and around a tiny house. My situation isn’t normal. (Duh. Who is normal?) My big house is on an island. My tiny house is on the neighboring peninsula. The two houses are only 22 miles apart, but water gets in the way. Driving to the ferry, waiting for it, riding across, and driving to the other place takes 52 miles and can take 2.5 hours. The storage units are staging areas like a suburban version of mountaineering caches.
For now, commuting and storing are expensive, but they are temporary. Smaller houses are cheaper, and have lower monthly expenses. I’ll get to that after I actually move and pay bills.
In the meantime, all of this work could seem like it has no direct benefit, but it does. I am much more aware of my life choices, goals, constraints, and freedoms – which, of course, will lead to yet another post. For now, though, there’s a drink to mix and sip, laundry to fold, and laundry to sort into stuff I always need (societal norms, etc.), sometimes need (dancing, hiking, bicycling, skiing), no longer need (a suit jacket for a forty-year-old me?), etc. And grubbies, of course, because moving is messy. Gotta remember to put a tape measure and a utility knife in those pockets.
Pardon the slight delay in my usual weekly posting schedule. Why? Keep reading.
Am I actually doing this? Yes. I guess I am. I am buying a tiny house to live in. This might sound like an experiment, and it is, but it is also a choice made for good, and maybe not-so-obvious reasons. But hey, why be normal?
Regular readers have probably already read between the lines that I might have to move. Have to? Decided to. If my finances don’t improve, I’d have to sell my house within about a year or two. That assumes nothing breaks in the meantime. I actually think my personal finances will improve, but there are no guarantees. Betting on hope is not a strategy, and may not even be defineable as a tactic. As Sun Tzu is said to have said, “Only move when it is to your advantage. Then, move.” (Paraphrased, variously translated, with a possibly fictional author – but a good idea anyway.)
My house, my home since 2007, is considered small by many. 868 square feet.
Pardon. Paperwork just electronically arrived.
Read. Read. Read. Oops. Call broker. Fix. Wait. Type in the meantime.
868 square feet. My smallest house ever. My favorite house that has been my favorite home. Easiest to clean. Easiest to maintain. So big that I left one room empty as a gym. And still big enough to lose my cell phone in, and find it by calling it from my landline.
And yet, finding time to treat it with proper respect and spend time giving my business and writing proper respect means that – well – there’s an entire set of windows I rarely clean.
Worrying about every little thing is partly my engineering heritage. It is also unhealthy when layered on my challenges from the last 14 years. (Read this blog for details, and possibly Too Much Information.) My treatment of my anxieties is improving, and may improve even more by literally distancing myself from some.
One anxiety that I can dramatically reduce is debt and monthly expenses. No debt. Ah. That sounds nice. See my post (Move From Whidbey Over 1700) for some background. Smaller house. Smaller bills. Smaller worries. If I was buying the tiny for cash, that would be best. Unfortunately, I have to sell my home to produce the cash to pay for the tiny. Contingent offers happen. But, will they accept it?
Ah, the revised paperwork arrives.
And, I’ve signed the paperwork, electronically (on forms that are vertical because they are designed to be printed, but must be read on horizontal computer screens that flip past the pages as signatures are made.) My offer is submitted.
I hope we filled out the forms right.
Drumroll for an emotional ride between now and either closing or more negotiations.
But in the meantime, I type because it is better than filling the waiting with wondering.
As I mentioned, my previous posts can prove that I’ve been considering a move for over a year. That’s not new. Where I live is my home, but I almost lost it about a decade ago. Before that I bought and sold a few of my residences over the decades. For a few years I was a realtor and helped dozens buy and sell theirs. A home is wonderful, but I recognize that sometimes it is time to move to another one.
I also frequently quipped that “every house is for sale, but deciding on the right price is the main question.” I actually thought of asking the For Sale sign installer to leave the post up just in case I wanted to sell quickly. Just kidding, but also somewhat serious. Months ago, I received three unsolicited offers for my home, all in one day. One was a robocall. One was a conventional cold call. One was a neighbor who knocked on the door and wanted to tour the house because she wanted to buy it. Maybe the universe put up a For Sale sign and didn’t tell me.
As I’ve shopped for houses, I became more aware of how much I own a home, not just a house. Seeing others made me appreciate what I had and still have. Nothing is perfect, but the style is just about right, the view is great even though I complain about the power lines, my neighbors are in that small crowd of the best I’ve lived beside. Whidbey is nice enough that I produced a ten-year photo essay of it. Island culture is unlike The Big City, somewhat like a rural small town, and a diverse mix of people who have similar attitudes about passion and living a lifestyle that may not find a home otherwise.
But anxieties, an increased cost of living, and other friends moving off the island suggest change will be a good thing.
If they accept my offer, which relies on finding enough cash, which requires some life choices or winning a cashpot or jackpot, and can rely on someone possibly buying my home to turn into their house under mutually agreeable conditions.
If. If. If.
So, some short-term anxieties to retire some long-term anxieties.
As you can tell, I’ve been typing this post as papers and conversations are electronically being passed around. Why wait for the end before chronicling the story? Here’s where my head has been.
I alluded to the temporary nature of living in any house/home. A tiny house won’t change that. It is easier to try something for two years when young, but doing so at 65 is doable, too. While shopping, I’ve found several possibilities, but making them work financially and physically currently was amping my anxieties. I still have a goal of a more sustainable situation. This tiny house doesn’t meet all of those criteria, but it meets enough of them to encourage me to take this intermediate step from which I can stabilize my finances, critically evaluate what I want and need (and dream), get to know a new area by spending time there, and then make that big move.
Nothing is permanent. Everything is temporary. And there are times when it is good to experiment.
I pause as they consider replying and I sleep.
Next day.
Patience, lad.
Dinner. Dishes. And a document to sign. Skip the details. We are now ‘mutual’ which means, assuming some unresolved details resolve well enough, I will own a tiny home.
That night.
So much to celebrate and so many requirements to meet that migraines arrive. Good news isn’t always stress-free, at least temporarily.
Next day.
One detail is about as big as most life events get: selling my home.
Start the final cleaning and clearing prior to the public walking through my house. Make it look pretty, and put the precious things away. Oh yeah, and cook days worth of meals because showings may make cooking impractical. Details. Details.
Continue eating my way through my pantry. The more I eat, the less there is to pack and move, and the less money and time I spend because this is looking like a very busy time.
Selling my home – but not telling anyone yet because it may not be proper to advertise a house is for sale before it is officially on the market with a sign in the yard.
Patience, lad. Wait for Easter and a day or two, which is not eaten up by eating chocolate Easter bunnies, but is eaten up by cleaning, decluttering, packing the house, oh yeah, and signing lots of listing documents.
And taking an evening off because the process of selling can eat up a person.
Next day.
Everything signed? Neighbors are guessing – and guessing as well as many realtors.
Last runs to recycle and trash.
Oh, and by the way, continue with normal life including filing taxes. (Another story for later.) And producing another manuscript to upload for a semi-secret book project. Now, to find the time for publishing that, too.
Another day? Well, yes, because things don’t happen at midnight. They can happen at noon, or dawn, or dusk, but preferrable before COB, Close Of Business.
And then writing and this blog post.
But every minute of every chore becomes a reflection on how to live a life. Out of debt with cash in hand? Shopping changes. A small flat lot? Mowing just got easier, and does that mean using a push reel mower instead of something with gas or electricity? Making dinner becomes an exercise in adjusting meal planning and storage. No room inside for a chest freezer, so reduce, or shop, or dine out more? What office supplies and records go into storage, and where will I work? Maybe some time in-town, in a library, maybe at a co-works? Every minute, a new self-examination that is usually glossed over daily through habits. Maybe moving is good simply to force a re-evaluation of a life and an opportunity to create new habits.
My Tiny Experiment begins as a new way to live, but also a new blog so my personal finance blog doesn’t get distracted, and my tiny experiment can be properly chronicled. Here we go.
Welcome to another story and another video in my One Company One Story series.
This time, Freyr (FREY).
Here comes the amateur legalese.
I began investing in companies and their stocks in the late 70s, but am Not a certified investment professional.
My style and history of investing is described in Dream. Invest. Live., a book I wrote by request – which came out as the Great Recession (the Second Great Depression) began. Don’t underestimate luck. Oops. https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0035XVXAA
I am Not an investment professional. This is Not financial advice.
By request –
Pardon some repetition but…
Solid power? Why does that matter? Check the previous month’s post about SolidPower.
How about semi-solid power?
Freyr Battery’s “…mission is to accelerate the decarbonization of global energy and transportation systems by producing clean, cost-competitive batteries.” Freyr is still using Lithium-Ion batteries, but better (hopefully).
Within high-tech industries, it can be easy to continually chase “The Next Big Thing”, but that also can postpone introductions to efficiencies that are available much sooner. As I understand it, Freyr is partnered with a firm that has found a new way of generating Lithium-Ion batteries, and to do so in a way that is simpler, solvent-free, and uses less materials. Cleaner, quicker, and easier to recycle. From the environmental aspect it takes less energy and looks like it creates less waste. From the business side, quicker and simpler are usually better. Time is money and complexity can mean higher costs.
From their web site I get the impression that they are focused on large scale operations like energy storage systems and commercial vehicles. They also mention electric cars (vehicles). It would be odd if they didn’t.
Electric vehicles may be the easiest things to see, but renewables like wind and solar benefit from energy storage during their slack times. Cars are noticeable, but trucks can produce more CO2 because they’re working hard. A car is usually carrying one passenger for relatively short trips. Trucks pull tens of thousands of pounds for hundreds or thousands of miles. Freyr helps both ends of the energy chain: production and consumption.
Want to know more? I do too. Unfortunately, Freyr’s website is almost exclusively words and pictures, but no catchy data. Their partner, 24M Technologies, may have more data, but if I’m going to dive in that far I’ll devote a video to them. (Assuming they are publicly traded.) I suspect the lack of data was a marketing and messaging choice, not one of lacking technical content. I make assumptions.
From the stock market side (which does have data), the company is just under a quarter-million dollar market cap, which is within the size I like. Google Finance is only showing data back to July 2021, when FREY was trading at ~$10. As I type this (March 22, 2024), the stock is ~$1.50. That’s a drop. Net income is negative, but that’s common with new companies and startups. Much of the stock drop has been since November 2022. The price seems to have stabilized since December 2023. A quick glance at social media describes a downturn within the sector, not something specific to FREY. Inconclusive.
Google Finance
Regular viewers and readers may know that I am intrigued by the technology and the sector. Making Lithium-Ion safer, cheaper, and more efficient is good and a natural progression for a technology and industry. I admit to reluctance about Lithium-Ion batteries because competing technologies may soon eclipse them. The new technologies are even more speculative, but they may also be necessary to reach climate goals. It is one reason I don’t have an electric car (but then there’s the money, and reliability in some of the environments I encounter. Check the books I’ve written about twelve-month travel in Washington State’s wilderness. https://www.amazon.com/stores/T.-E.-Trimbath/author/B0035XVXAA)
I don’t know what’s going to happen; but, I hope they survive and thrive. I’ll be watching.
So that happened. More correctly; so, that finally happened. “Geron (GERN) Gets ODAC Votes for Blood Disorder Drug”
Disclosure up front. I own shares of GERN. I’ve owned shares of GERN since 1999. I am a fan of LTBH, Long Term Buy and Hold. (Details in my book, Dream. Invest. Live.)
When I bought the stock, I thought Long Term referred to years. Today, I read quotes in online forums where someone proclaims themself a Long because they held a stock for months. The concept of decades doesn’t seem possible to someone who has only been investing for a few years. After about 25 years, Geron (GERN) finally received some significant, positive, but not-yet-quantifiable news – except in its stock price. Within a few minutes of Thursday’s announcement after hours, the stock was up about 80%. Success?
Google Finance
(For those unfamiliar with Geron, aka GERN, I’ve been writing about the company for over a decade. There are links below to help summarize my opinion of the company and its technology.)
Step one: Celebrate the good news. Even for people who aren’t invested in the stock, biotechs can announce progress in treating ailments and injuries. That’s worth celebrating, especially for patients needing treatment. For people who are invested in the stock, there’s usually that price appreciation to celebrate, too.
Step two: Breathe, relax, repeat. After the emotional high, remember this is an investment which can benefit from some rational thought, and possibly responsible actions.
Step three: Decide what this really means in the short term and the long term.
Okay. I raised a toast last night, so step one is complete. I watched the stock during the regular trading hours, which let my rational side kick in.
In the short term: This is great. I’m not going to complain about an almost doubling within a day. This is better than normal (#massiveunderstatement), but GERN has seen spikes of 140% before. I’ve experienced other stocks rise 240% in a day, and know of one that hit 640% in a day. And even that understates the nature of the rise. News items can be discrete events where the rise happens in minutes. The rest of the day may be simply details as the market collectively decides what the news is really worth. Just look at that stock chart.
Until a small company reaches such a milestone, it is difficult to estimate the company, and therefore the stock’s, value. That shifts the points on that line on the chart. Rational estimates move them one way. Market sentiment moves them, too. Some will buy or sell based on market potential, optimism, and pessimism. Some trade just to trade, ignoring the goods or services provided by the company. They just watch numbers go up and down, then they (mathematically) guess where they are going next.
In the longer term (looking forward): What’s the potential for the company? How large is the market? What’s the competition? How much is it needed? The calculations get more complex and are more likely to be grounded in analyses than gossip. Will this make this company viable and sustainable, and hopefully, profitable?
And then here comes the multiplier. If the treatment works for this ailment, will it work for others? If so, how far can it go? That can take longer to estimate.
In the long term (looking backward): For where the stock is now, compared to when the stockholder bought it, has the investment had a good enough Return On Investment? What’s the stock price for personal breakeven? What are the personal long-term goals?
The stock has already hit the cocktail party criteria. It is easy to brag about holding a stock that went up 90% in a day. Spread the cheer. Cheers!
But, did it make sense to have bought it then? If so, great. If not, how much more does it need to go to reach that Return On Investment target, and what are the chances it will get there or higher?
In the present: Geron has issued so many shares of GERN that the power of those initial shares is greatly diminished. I’ve bought several times, so each has its own ROI targets; but, I don’t worry those details. A stock has this value now. Except for taxes, it doesn’t matter when it was bought. What are the likely value and limits that the stock will have in the next few months or years? The next few days and weeks will likely be chaos. What’s the longer picture?
In the near future: The celebrations and such are anticipatory. As I understand it, this was the decision of an Advisory panel. Any full FDA approval isn’t expected for months, and is not guaranteed. Risk remains. Risk also remains after a treatment gets approval, but that’s normal biotech business.
History: A lot of the near-term chaos will be fresh investors and long-term lurkers deciding to buy in now. They’re playing the strategy of purposely missing the first dramatic rise because they’ve used their money somewhere else in the meantime. I’m bad at guessing when that first dramatic rise rises, so I buy in early. My style is more relaxed and patient. For the last 25 years, Geron has had opportunities to announce breakthroughs, and I didn’t want to miss them. Unfortunately, the company sold off many of the technologies so it could survive. It looks like it has.
LTBH is Long Term Buy and Hold, but is not Hold For Infinity. To me, stocks are there to enable a life. If GERN can be sold at a high enough price, I may do so to get out of debt, enable a nicer lifestyle, do some pilanthropy, or even invest in something else.
And history echoes. I own stock in a company pursuing one of Geron’s spinoff technologies. That stock, LTCX, was languishing as a startup can, until about noon the day after Geron’s announcement. Suddenly, the stock started moving almost as if someone made the connection. It ended up 11%. That’s pretty good too.
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Now, the waiting game. LTBH is defined by patience. Patience holding. A celebration. Now, patience waiting for FDA approval. Then, a few more milestones later, begin treating people, making money, and seeing it meets or exceeds or fails expectations. It ain’t over, and looks more likely to go on for a long time, which should also be true of the patients.
Feeling overwhelmed? Congratulations! You’re a modern human. Not even AI is going to change that. Ha! Mow the lawn. Stack the firewood. Clean the dishes. Collect trash to take to the dump. Maybe go for a walk. Take a shower. (Not necessarily in that order.) And wait, or don’t wait. There’s more! Oh yeah, and figure out those taxes, which may mean balancing that checkbook, pay those bills, realize you need to look for a job or move or both, et al.
There must be a way to make a way through it all before that et al gets to you.
Ads rarely tell you to do less or spend less. Even when they encourage you to worry less, it usually involves doing more to pay for and arrange that vacation.
Life before electronics was busy. That’s why labor-saving devices are popular. By now, it should be possible to live while doing nothing. Score!
Ah, but more free time means you should Should on yourself. The doctor has a list of shoulds, so does the dentist. Add the government, however you find an income, your neighbors, your house, your transportation, ad nauseam. Emphasis on the nauseam.
Add the couldas. Instead of this Should, I Could do that.
Get old enough and compile a list of Wouldas. If only I’d known I woulda done…
Recently, my perpetual overwhelm entered a phase of several Shoulds arriving at the same time. At least four near-term writing projects. Spring cleaning has a deadline this year (for reasons I can’t reveal yet.) Applying for jobs. Starting new projects (in case the others don’t produce something positive soon after several years of trying.) I’m not going to list them all because the specifics of my list aren’t as important as the reality that overwhelm is happening everywhere.
And then, there’s the changes AI is going to create that may be best to be aware of before they happen. Even if they don’t mow the lawn, AIs are changing the world.
My overwhelm reached a critical point earlier this week. Thanks to my study of karate and some spiritual practices, I’ve developed coping strategies. They don’t make the storms go away, but they make it easier to ride through them. But every tool and technique has its weaknesses. Someone accidentally found mine and hammered it hard. I became less than cool. (#MassiveUnderstatement)
I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar: three compliments in five sentences followed by twenty minutes listing what I Shoulda done, Coulda done, and what they Woulda done. And I don’t think they even realized they were doing it because they were in the midst of their overwhelming situation. Step back, at least metaphorically. Breathe, really. Decide if any of it is a life emergency.
Don’t block the fist that wasn’t a punch.
Sometimes, do nothing and nothing remains undone – because the need may go away.
Don’t react unless there’s a reason and a benefit to do so.
For me, much of my overwhelm traces back to My Triple Whammy, a dramatic assault on my net worth that I continue to recover from. It is unfashionable to say that a lack of money is the source of a person’s troubles; but I know enough impressive people in financial difficulty to realize that such fashionable thoughts are insensitive luxuries. Money does matter. My stress level correlates with it.
At the same time this episode of overwhelm hit, I am watching and waiting for financial news (see, I brought it back around to personal finance) as most of my stocks are due to release good news in 2023, oops, 2024. As usual, I am also applying for jobs; and some of the recent ones look good.
Overwhelm on overwhelm while change is changing.
Step back. Breathe. And do what can be done with what’s available. I was stymied about what to do next. For a few minutes, I stood there trying to decide which to-do item was most important. The priorities change with each change. Keeping track adds to the overwhelm.
Step back. Breathe. Look around. Beside me was something that was sitting there, waiting to become a part of a solution, or a piece destined for the dump. Dump, because even though I should solve that one problem, I could if things were different.
Breathe. Most things take time and good luck. Gardeners know that. Entrepreneurs do, too; they can be impatient, but customers can’t be forced. Advocates know that, too. The cause is just; the cause is now; but the crowd may take a while to show up.
Work with the energies that are there. Add yours, but don’t force others. Aggression reveals weaknesses.
So, I sit here, waiting for financial news that I can’t control, as AI changes the world in ways I can’t control, as my taxes are in the control of a professional, and other professionals are working on other projects. Now, I’m typing this. Before that, I got dinner in the oven. Before that, I mowed the lawn and stacked some firewood. And before that,… And before that,… And before that,… I worked on other things I can control. Shoulds make the top of the list, but sometimes, to relieve the overwhelm, I step back, breathe, look at what’s around me, and maybe do what I can with what I got, and ignore the shouts of everyone else’s Shoulds.
Putting a price on a good neighbor misses the point. Someone who is there and who helps without asking is the way the world should work. I’m talking about a neighbor who is heading to the dump, offers to take my stuff too, and then loads it themselves. My neighbors were nice enough to load up a bunch of fallen fences and leftover wood from various projects and drive it dozens of miles to the dump. I’m in the midst of, as I posted recently;
Clean. Donate. Discard. Repeat. Also equals tired and less cluttered. Also uncovering mysteries hidden for 17 years.
Clean. Donate. Discard. Repeat. Also equals tired and less cluttered. Also uncovering mysteries hidden for 17 years. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. Whew and wow.#homeownership
Someone proclaimed me Mr. Frugal, an honor. That also means that when part of my fence fell down, I only threw away the broken boards. My neighborhood is windy enough that it doesn’t make much sense to put the fence back up until the winter winds are gone. Oh, but other projects got in the way, so years go by with literal stop-gap solutions while the wood weathers and waits.
I’ve also found that maintaining an emergency preparedness kit alleviates some anxieties. While some aim for the three-days, or three-weeks, or three-months of food goals, I include enough lumber and plastic sheeting to patch up holes in my house, just in case.
For a number of reasons that will become more apparent this year (for events that I can’t predict), much of my time has been spent with the mantra I mentioned above; “Clean. Donate. Discard. Repeat.”
Frugality can amplify creativity and resourcefulness.
Frugality can also lead into the trap of clutter and enter the realm of packrats.
I’m getting new neighbors on the other side of my gap-toothed fence. Any new fence, or even repairs to the old fence probably won’t default to the original style. Out goes the fallen fence material. As I plowed through that pile, it became obvious that supply of fresh wood wasn’t as fresh anymore. Out it goes, too.
Call the local companies who haul stuff to the dump, get quotes of hundreds of dollars, and be glad for neighbors who saw the pile and asked if I wanted it taken to the dump. Sure!
That became part of collecting old, partly-busted plant pots, a never-used handmade shelving system, yard waste from an invasive species, and a bunch of stuff from a bunch of categories that added to yet another load. Look around the yard and be glad it looks so much nicer.
Similar things are happening indoors, too.
Life and living is not static. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. Accumulate. Store. And, after a few seasons or years, use, donate, or discard. I failed to do that until recently.
I found: a few bicycle tires, a three-foot wide mirror with another mirror hiding behind it, rolls of carpet backing in the attic of this hardwood-floored house, cans and bottles with best-by dates that expired a decade ago,… A local thrift store took some. Habitat for Humanity took the big stuff. The recycle and dump stations get almost all of the rest.
Now, the inside looks nicer, too. (This is also an excuse to swap out an old, but functional, fragile lamp for something more efficient, like an LED floor lamp.)
Having too much of a good thing isn’t necessarily a better thing. Duh. Sometimes, that accumulation is a good thing. Having the right materials at hand without having to sprint to the store is a great thing if the project is a surprise, during a wind storm, at night, on a Sunday, when the roads are bad. But preparing for every eventuality can create an infinite burden that is impossible to manage.
An image comes to mind from my martial arts training. There’s a stereotype of the always strong, always flexed, always primed and ready expert. One thing that hour-long sparing sessions teach is tight/no-tight. Walking around all tightened up is slow, tiring, and also looks silly. Be tight when necessary, but necessary may only last a second. Relax so things have a chance to flow, and may succeed with less effort.
Being ready for every emergency is being continually tight, especially in times like these. To get through, relax and breathe. And maybe toss out some old stuff that served its purpose or may never be needed. Watch for nails. And know that, what you think you needed then may need to be replaced with what you need now.
How long do you or I have to wait for the good news to come? That depends on the topic, the issue, the reason to wonder about it. Next week, two of my largest (ha!) stock holdings will announce earnings. Both of them had Forward Looking Statements in 2022 and 2023 that suggested that by about now, good news would arrive. Those bits of quantifiable, signficant, and positive items of good news didn’t arrive then; so, I must consider selling my house now. A week of waiting, but then, I’ve held shares in both of those stocks since 1999. For the next week, I wonder and wait while also cleaning my house, decluttering, and shopping. It will be an interesting week.
The short version, which I’ve already delayed by a paragraph, is Geron and MicroVision, GERN and MVIS. Geron’s mission is simple, but its technology is complex. Their goal is to extend the human lifespan significantly. MicroVision’s technology is inherently simple, but evidently, its commercial applications have had problems. (#MassiveUnderstatement)
Geron started with four innovative technologies, things like stem cells, cloning, controlling telomeres – and it’s been so long that I forgot the fourth. To stay alive, they’ve sold off everything except controlling telomeres. Telomeres are molecules that tell cells when to die or continue living. Control cell death, and hopefully control cancer. Control cell life, and maybe autoimmune diseases become easier to manage. I might be wrong, but that’s this shareholder’s understanding. Their current target is blood disorders. They’re aiming for FDA approval. Approval means they can finally begin treating people, and hopefully become a long-term and viable company, and also extend the treatment to other disorders. It has been a long road.
MicroVision, oh MicroVision, is based on the ingenious idea of oscillating a mirror on a chip. Light bouncing one way becomes a display. Light bouncing the other way becomes a sensor. Bounce light both ways and do things no one else can do. I’ll try to add a spreadsheet of most of the products they’ve tried to commercialize up to 2019. It is an impressive list. My favorite is a projector that fits in a cell phone – which is no longer available. Close behind are augmented reality glasses that they worked on before I ever heard of Google Glass. Now, they’re selling augmented reality headsets commercially and to the military, but they don’t get nearly the press of Apple. They are also trying to sell the sensors that let autonomous vehicles see what’s around them. To stay alive, they’ve diluted their stock so much that my initial investment may be hard to recover. MVIS, too, has been on a long road.
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Waiting much? Yeah, but look at the books I’ve written and see a pattern of long-term efforts. Of course, if you could see my finances, you could see a pattern of “Well, that should have worked, and so should’ve that, and that, and…” It’s time for the road to finally get somewhere significant, positive, and quantifiable.
My style of investing is called Long Term Buy and Hold, LTBH. Buy stock in a new, small company; ride it through times that are probably risky; sell it after it succeeds and benefit from the proceeds. My style of investing is described in my book, Dream. Invest. Live., which is called that because I invest to live, not to simply win some game.
LTBH worked well enough for most of my investing history that I was able to retire in 1998. Thank you to the stocks that people who laughed at the time, stocks like SBUX (Starbucks), AOL/AMER (America Online), PIXR (Pixar), FFIV (f5 Networks), et al. This ‘should’ work.
It also worked with two other key stocks: DNDN (Dendreon), AMSC (American Superconductor). They kicked in just as the Great Recession hit, which made my life something to look forward to. Then, in two unrelated cases, both companies were targeted by groups that bankrupted one and severely damaged the other. Both groups were found guilty, but the money, my money, was gone. I subsequently lost 98% of my net worth. That story has played out in this blog, and the story continues.
LTBH is risky. I can make a longer list of stocks where it didn’t work. That’s the nature of investing. Some go up. Some go down. But buying Long has a nearly unlimited potential upside. Ideally, a few great ups can counter even more downs because the downs are limited to losing 100%. Some of my ups have gone from ~$1 to ~$40.
Two of my downs also reveal an unexpected consequence, bankrupt companies that become successful. Dendreon went bankrupt, but they’re back in business. Unfortunately, my shares are gone. Iridium was and is a satellite telephone service that went bankrupt, but is still operational. The satellites were up there; someone might as well use them. The ideas succeeded, even if my investments didn’t.
Even the companies that failed can be considered successes for those employed there who made good salaries, bought homes, raised families, sent kids to school, and furthered their careers. Shareholders can complain, but from the perspective of a CEO making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year in various compensation packages, the company represents at least some success.
Some economics historian can say better whether LTBH made more sense in 1999 than it does in 2024. Just because it worked for me through 2010 doesn’t mean it works post-pandemic (though we’re still in it), or amidst computerized trading (now with AI!), or in the general chaos that is our current random world. I don’t know. I just buy and hold. And hold. And hold. And hold.
There’s a cartoon that I wish I could find. It shows two miners. They are both tunneling into a mountain, hoping to find that gold (or whatever.) One quits six inches away from breaking through into a treasure. The other, of course, perseveres that extra bit.
“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” – Albert Einstein (supposedly)
Which is LTBH: perseverance or insanity?
Geron’s and MicroVision’s news will not resolve that quandary. Catchy phrases don’t have to prove statistical significance. I own both stocks because I like their potential. Geron exends human life? Excellent! MicroVision obsoletes big old boxy televisions with something that fits in a smartphone? Imagine the savings in warehouses, transportation fuel and costs, packaging and the inevitable landfills,… Or are either or both of them simply job centers for cloistered technical talent and nicely compensated management?
Next week, they report earnings, not necessarily product announcements. But both can happen, and I think the product announcements are past due. People need cures. Surely, more than one of MicroVision’s products will be a positive, significant, quantifiable success. In the meantime, it is time to clean up the house in case it needs to be sold; and apply for jobs still; and hope for my books and photos to sell, and while I’m at it, check that lottery ticket.
Trimbathcreative's Blog (Tom Trimbath) 