When folks discover I write a financial column, the first thing they want to do is pick my brain. The reason for this, perhaps, is because all of us often place more value in what others think than in our own knowledge and expertise. However - expert or not - we're all on the same boat when it comes down to the final bell. In this particular case, we were in the same airline terminal waiting to reach our final destinations.

No, Cora and I didn't fly standby on the way back from our trip south. It was a regular ticket, jet, about 50 people on board. Our plane made it into Louisville from Chicago just ahead of a Canadian front; however, it was probably the last one to leave O'Hare airport that afternoon. As we sat and watched light, white puffy clouds skate across Louisville's blue skies, it was difficult to believe the weather was so tough just forty-five minutes north as the jet flies. We had one brief, hopeful moment when we were instructed to board the jet. Fifteen minutes later we were asked to leave and wait in the terminal. The storms came in waves, and the window of opportunity apparently wasn't wide enough for us to escape Louisville. Every half hour the crew updated us on the flight, mainly to tell us we would be updated again in another half hour.

Cora and I weren't too worried about time slipping by, because we didn't have a connecting flight. There were about four others who weren't going any further than the Windy City, but none of us were willing to drive through the storms north of us. The other forty-five passengers were connecting to other locations. Those folks used payphones, cell phones, and stood in line to make new connections. As the day wore on, passengers continued to make more new arrangements as the weather actually shut down all incoming and outgoing flights at O'Hare for several hours. Since the next flight to Chicago never showed (still on the runway at O'Hare), another fifty folks filed in to repeat these performances. Eventually, one hundred passengers dwindled to thirty, and a few of us managed to entertain ourselves with idle chatter.

The first thread of conversation centered on the airline's inability to cope with the weather. Think about that for a moment, if you dare. A few pilots love a challenge, and most planes and jets are built to withstand hurricane force winds; however, most airlines won't go out on a limb to pacify a few impatient travelers. There's not an airline in existence that can control the weather, either. I've flown into Floyd (don't ask) and experienced a few air pockets in my time, so I know for a fact that I'm not going where there's any chance of overt turbulence. Go ahead - bribe me?I won't cave in, because I hate to fly in the first place. But, because of research and trust in my own knowledge, I know this mode of transportation is the quickest, most efficient, and safest method to get me where I want to go.

The airline handled this tense situation with perseverance and aplomb, in my opinion. The pilots and stewardess were available to answer questions. The crew at the desk worked nine hours straight to help individuals get the best deals possible in spite of Fourth of July traffic. Most travelers understood the difficulties, because they had been through weather delays before. The only way to cope with waiting past the closing of all bars, shops, and newsstands in the terminal was to learn why everyone was in Louisville in the first place, where they were going, what they did for a living, and subtly uncover religious preferences and political parties if at all possible - mainly to learn just how far one could push the conversation envelope. Nine hours is enough time to accomplish that feat.

As we blabbed on, we prided ourselves on the friendly debates that ensued, especially since we found we were about the most mixed bunch of folks you could ever throw together. Not one of us pursued the same occupation, nor did any of us share the same religion (although we were all familiar with those amazing "Acts of God"). None of us were the same age, and we were all born and raised in different parts of the country. Although there are really only two political parties, we still had our leanings?you can be a Democrat or Republican in about fifty different flavors.

The only thing we all had in common was our investments. Everyone had a portfolio, and everyone began to ask me about equity choices once they discovered my profession. When confronted with a question like this, I usually counteract with a question about how they feel about their choice rather than answer their query. This tactic seems to work because most folks love to defend their choices, and they usually validate their own decisions as they explain their research and knowledge.

It was just before midnight before we all finally boarded the jet to Chicago. As I buckled in, I realized how easily my fellow travelers could make choices about how to travel from point A to point B in the face of unpredictable and unavoidable problems. We can buy another ticket, hold onto what we have, or check into a hotel and try again the next day. Why is it so hard, then, for us to make choices in the stock market? The market has arguably provided individual investors with the most investment opportunities and potential for profit, in a relatively efficient and orderly fashion albeit with an element of risk, yet we hesitate to rely on our own research and knowledge to reach our financial goals. No need to ask someone else about where we're going, because we know where we want to be, mate. Just buy, hold, or wait it out and fly into that equity when the weather is right.

Until Next Week,
Linda Goin

The securities markets are subject to the risks of fluctuating prices and the uncertainty of rates of return and yields inherent in investing and past performance is no guarantee of future results.