Finance in maryland mortgage training

My bank balance hit zero one day, and I almost cried. I was 23, living in pricey Manhattan on a lowly editorial assistant's salary and sharing a cramped apartment with a roommate. But it wasn't my fixed expenses--rent, utilities, student-loan payments--that had put me in the red. It was my mushrooming credit-card debt, fueled by frequent restaurant meals and overpriced hair appointments that I just had to keep each month. But after my mom floated me yet another small loan, my panic subsided, and I gave little thought to trimming down my debt burden. I still believed the lean times couldn't last. Like many women, I assumed that any day now I would fall in love and marry a man who made more money than I did. With his support, I'd be able to pay my bills, and together we'd lay the financial foundation for a secure future.

Six years later, Mr. Bight still was not in sight. Though I was earning more money, my living expenses had also increased. I had moved--sans roommate--into a nicer apartment, and the rent alone claimed nearly half my monthly take-home. I was now treating myself to even more restaurant lunches and, yes, those expensive hair appointments.

As my thirtieth birthday approached, I made a halfhearted attempt to invest in my future. I met with a mortgage broker and actually put down $500 to get on a waiting list to buy a condo. But I couldn't make the commitment to scrape together the $20,000 I needed for the down payment. I now realize I was still harboring a secret desire to be "rescued" from financial accountability. Of course, back then I'd never have acknowledged--not even to myself--that I would ever think of relying on a man for money. But after years of trying to be fiscally responsible on my own, I was tired of the effort. So I continued to play myself: The adult in me paid my bills on time, while my rebellious inner child wore out my Visa.

I wasn't so different back then from many single Black women who, when it comes to finances, are fraught with contradictions. On one hand, we're fiercely proud of our independence and well aware of the opportunities we have to achieve much on our own. Yet if we're honest, many of us will also concede that we secretly nurture the hope of being, if not taken care of, at least in partnership with someone who can bring us closer to our dreams of financial security. Though we may talk as if we don't expect a provider to come along and rescue us, many of us spend our youth--and our time and money--grooming ourselves to be Mrs. Somebody.

"The money and the man are intertwined in the minds of many young Black women," says Eleta Greene, Ph.D., an Atlanta clinical psychologist. "To think about life without a provider--other than your very own self--is not something we want to consider."

But we should. Some 42 percent of Black women are single and never married, according to the 2000 U.S. Census, up from 37 percent in 1990. Of those of us who will marry, many will do it years later than our mothers did; more than half will divorce, and the rest of us will probably outlive our mates. The bottom line: Most of us will spend significant portions of our lives as single women who have to build our own nest eggs. And even if our prince comes riding up tomorrow, there's no guarantee that he'll be more financially secure than we are, or that he'll be able to take on the role of money manager in the family.

It helps if we understand that buried beneath our desire to be rescued by Prince Charming is a basic human longing for an intimate connection with another person who will share in our struggle, who will make us feel everything will be okay, who will affirm that we indeed deserve to be cared for. Black women do deserve love, nurturing and security, but to foster these in a relationship, we must first possess them ourselves. Here are three women who didn't wait for Prince Charming to bring them financial security. Instead each woman clicked her own ruby slippers together and claimed the power for herself.

Michelle K. Thomas: `My business is me.'

Digital multimedia marketing consultant Michelle K. Thomas of Chicago resists suggestions that financially independent women scare away potential marriage partners. "Why shouldn't I do the best I can to reach my full potential so that when I meet Mr. Right, there's more in the kitty for both of us?" says Michelle, 47. "I've always been an independent person."

She can thank her mom for that. After Michelle's parents divorced when she was 5, she watched her mother make ends meet by working as a cashier and a barmaid. But Mom had a plan: While on welfare, Shirley Thomas studied to become a licensed practical nurse through Manpower, a job-training and staffing firm. When she graduated with top scores on the New York State board exam, the family's circumstances changed dramatically. "We were like the Jeffersons: We moved to a deluxe apartment in the sky in Queens, New York," Michelle says. "We had a doorman--and no roaches." By the time Shirley earned her college degree and advanced to become a registered nurse, the family's financial security was assured.

While her mother worked, Michelle ran the household with her fraternal twin, Kevin, and her older brother, Darrell. Her mother's example coupled with her own daily responsibilities taught Michelle budgeting and organizational skills she would later use in her career. "I love a deal," she says. "I eventually became involved in executive-level sales because I like to haggle."

Though she started in network news and affiliate relations, she hit the big time when she was recruited by Westinghouse Broadcasting to sell syndicated television programs. In 1983 she parlayed an excellent sales track record into the launching of her own business, MK Thomas & Co., which developed and sold national TV programs. In one year alone, her company brought in $1.5 million in revenues.

Michelle's financial smarts came less quickly. Though she knew how to pay bills on time, she had no idea what else to do with her rising income. She's embarrassed to admit that she once parked more than $400,000 in a standard checking account, where her money earned no interest. "It's a painful private moment when you realize you don't know what to do with your money," Michelle says. "I knew I had to learn more."

So Michelle hired a certified public accountant. "Back then, I wanted the markers of success--a computer right now, a mink coat right away," she says. "My CPA taught me to think things through. I learned to pace myself and delay gratification." In the following months the CPA helped put Michelle's financial house in order by tracking her earning and spending. To handle her company's escalating income, Michelle hired another certified public accountant to teach her everything from how to maintain a bookkeeping ledger to how to create a tax strategy. And Michelle's personal CPA gave her some of the best advice she has ever received: He told her to buy a home to lower her tax liability.

She did. At age 31, Michelle pulled together a cash down payment of $21,500 to purchase a house four blocks away from Chicago's notorious Cabrini Green housing projects. "I bought the property because I saw the neighborhood changing," she says. Today, with the homes in that area selling for a median price of $385,000, her investment as more than doubled. And the length of the mortgage--30 years--allowed her to deduct most of the interest. That kind of financial foresight has put her in a position to make choices in her personal life and raise a child on her own.

Michelle did face some setbacks: In 1990 a severe back injury knocked her flat for eight months. From a hospital bed, she continued to run her business, though at a slower pace. But astronomical medical bills totaling $250,000 and the resulting cancellation of her group-insurance plan eventually forced her business into bankruptcy. A prudent decision she'd made at age 28 turned out to be her anchor: She had bought disability insurance at a premium of $220 a month. Because she had bought the coverage while she was young and healthy, Michelle was able not only to survive her convalescence but also to thrive.

While she recovered, the benefits covered most of her income needs and those of her then 4-year-old daughter, Averi. Working from home, Michelle gradually made her way back to taking care of business full-time by booting up her computer for nearly everything--banking, paying bills and even freelance consulting. After helping an executive prepare for a presentation, she launched a service, Emergency Overnight Presentation, from home. "That was how I started my digital multimedia firm," she says. "Now my business is me."