The Limits of Preparing for Evil

A long time ago, when I was a broker trainee at Securities Corporation of Iowa, I would end my week by taking a ten-mile run on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail with a portfolio management intern. We were the two youngest members of the firm: I, a recent graduate of the University of Iowa and he, a soon-to-be senior at Northwestern. We were fit and broke, so while we couldn’t afford to end our week drinking in a bar with the other young professionals, we could run. So, much like Forest Gump… we just ran.

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Tax Filing: Are You Ready?

If you're like most taxpayers, there's probably a file or folder in your home that will soon fill up with tax forms and receipts. While it may be tempting to put off the day of reckoning, April 15th will be here before we know it! The sooner you start organizing your return, the less stress you're likely to feel as the tax filing deadline approaches.

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My “No Prediction For Next Year” Letter: 2022 Edition

Was it just me, or did 2021 go by fast?

Now that it’s January, about all the investment industry firms are posting their predictions for financial markets in 2022. Not at Iowa Wealth Management, though. We don’t make predictions on the direction of financial markets, the economy or what numbers to play in the lotto. Our reason is simple; we don’t know where financial markets are headed, nor the economy, and we certainly don’t have any idea what lotto numbers you should pick.

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Christmas at Costco

It was the Saturday before Christmas, just before store opening when I pulled my SUV into the Costco parking lot, selected a parking place that would offer minimal chances of door dings, took one last swig of Starbucks® and headed into the store’s vestibule.

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Labor Day - Valuing Those Who Work and the Quiet Dignity of Work Itself

I was traveling through southern Minnesota. It was 2:30pm and it had already been a long day. Some days are like that, just a little more taxing than others. The clients and the client meetings had been fine, but the outside world seemed to be crumbling while I drove. Half a world away, Afghanistan was falling to the Taliban, and closer to home, my father had contracted COVID-19. On my little stretch of I-90, the sun bore down with temperatures in the 90s, while southerly winds stretched my SUV's air conditioning to its limits. Approaching Fairmont, I saw the road sign announcing a McDonald's and since I hadn't yet had lunch, I pulled in. 

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