By David | Published: November 1, 2014

November 1, 2014 Contents

Dear friends,

In a college with more trees than students, autumn is stunning. Around the campus pond and along wooded paths, trees begin to erupt in glorious color. At first the change is slow, more teasing than apparent. But then we always have a glorious reign of color … followed by a glorious rain of leaves. It’s more apparent then than ever why Augustana was recognized as having one of America’s 25 most beautiful campuses .

Every morning, teaching schedule permitting, I park my car near Old Main then conspire to find the longest possible route into the building. Instead of the simple one block walk east, I head west, uphill and through the residential neighborhoods or south, behind the natural sciences building and up a wooded hillside. I generally walk unencumbered by technology, purpose or companions.

Kicking the leaves is not optional.

photo courtesy of Augustana Photo Bureau

I listen to the crunching of acorns underfoot and to the anxious scouring of black squirrels. I look at the architecture of the houses, some well more than a century old but still sound and beautiful. I breathe, sniffing for the hint of a hardwood fire. And I left my mind wander where it wants to, too.  Why are some houses enduringly beautiful, while others are painful before they’re even complete?  How might more volatile weather reshape the landscape? Are my students even curious about anything? Would dipping their phones in epoxy make a difference? Maybe investors don’t want to know what their managers actually do? Where would we be if folks actually did spend less? Heck, most of them have already been forced to. I wonder if folks whose incomes and wealth are rapidly rising even think about the implications of stagnation for the rest of us? Why aren’t there any good donut shops anymore?  (Nuts.)

You might think of my walks as a luxury or a harmless indulgence by a middle-aged academic. You’d be wrong. Very wrong.

The world has conspired to heap so many demands upon our attention than we can barely focus long enough to button our shirts. Our attention is fragmented, our time is lost (go on, try to remember what you actually did Friday) and our thinking extends no further than the next interruption. It makes us sloppy, unhappy and unimaginative.

Have you ever thought about including those characteristics in a job description: “We’re hoping to find sloppy, unhappy and unimaginative individuals to take us to the next level!  If you have the potential to become so distracted by minutiae and incessant interruption that you can’t even remember any other way, we have the position for you.”

Go take a walk, dear friends. Go take a dozen. Take them with someone who makes you want to hold a hand rather than a tablet. The leaves beckon and you’ll be better for it.

On the discreet charm of a stock light portfolio

All the signs point to stocks. The best time of the year to buy stocks is right after Halloween. The best time in the four year presidential cycle to be in stocks is just after the midterm elections. Bonds are poised for a bear market. Markets are steadying. Stocks are plowing ahead; the Total Stock Market Index posted gains of 9.8% through the first 10 months of 2014.

And yet, I’m not plowing into stocks. That’s not a tactical allocation decision, it’s strategic. My non-retirement portfolio, everything outside the 403(b), is always the same: 50% equity, 50% income. Equity is 50% here, 50% there, as well as 50% large and 50% small. Income tends to be the same: 50% short duration/cash-like substances, 50% riskier assets, 50% domestic, 50% international. It is, as a strategy, designed to plod steadily.

My asset allocation has some similarities to Morningstar’s “conservative retirement saver ” portfolio, which they gear “toward still-working individuals who expect to retire in 2020 or thereabouts.”  Both portfolios are about 50% in equities and both have a medium term time horizon of around 7-10 years.  On whole, though, I appear to be both more aggressive and more conservative than Morningstar’s model.  I’ve got a lot more exposure to international and, particularly, emerging markets stocks (through Seafarer, Grandeur Peak and Matthews) and bonds (through Matthews and Price) than they do.  I favor managers who have the freedom to move opportunistically between asset classes (FPA Crescent is the show piece, but managers at eight of my 10 funds have more than one asset class at their disposal).  At the same time, I’ve got a lot more exposure to short-term and cash-management strategies (through Price and two fine RiverPark funds).  My funds are cheaper than average (I’m not cheap, I’m rationally cost-conscious) though pricier than Morningstar’s, which reflects their preference for large (no, I didn’t called them “bloated”) funds.

You might benefit from thinking about whether a more diversified stock-light portfolio might help you better balance your personal goals (sleeping well) with your financial ones (eating well). There’s good evidence to guide us.

T. Rowe Price is one of my favorite fund companies, in part because they treat their investors with unusual respect. Price’s publications depart from the normal marketing fluff and generally provide useful, occasionally fascinating, information.

I found two Price studies, in 2004 and again in 2010, particularly provocative. Price constructed a series of portfolios representing different levels of stock exposure and looked at how the various portfolios would have played out over the past 50-60 years.

The original study looked at portfolios with 20, 40, 60, 80 and 100% stocks. The update dropped the 20% portfolio and looked at 0, 40, 60, 80, and 100%. Price updated their research for us and allowed us to release it here.

Performance of Various Portfolio Strategies