Tag Archives: writing

Is Smaller Actually Better?

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Although Katie is a big baseball fan and we have been to almost half of the MLB ballparks, over the years, we’ve come to appreciate our trips to see college and minor league baseball more than Major League games for a variety of reasons.  Smaller parks are easier to get in and out of. The atmosphere is more intimate. Teams tend to try harder with fan interaction. And, of course, everything is cheaper.  Not just tickets, but parking, concessions. etc.. It’s just easier to enjoy.

Which got me thinking: Does that same “smaller is better” idea apply to other experiences? Like zoos?

Big Zoos, Big Experiences

We really enjoy zoos. We’ve been longtime members of the Dallas Zoo, and over the years we’ve visited some of the big names like San Diego, Omaha, Washington DC. and they’re really impressive.

Huge exhibits. Global species. Carefully curated experiences. In some cases, they feel closer to theme parks than traditional zoos. But along with that scale come tradeoffs like crowds, commercialization, and higher prices. And, occasionally, the feeling that you’re moving through an attraction instead of experiencing it. Still fun. Just… different.

A Smaller Alternative

This week, we visited the Lowcountry Zoo just outside Myrtle Beach, tucked inside Brookgreen Gardens. It couldn’t have been more different. The entire zoo is maybe eight or ten exhibits, arranged along about a one-mile loop. You can see everything in a couple of hours without rushing. It was a wonderful experience.

Instead of crowds, there was quiet.
Instead of concrete paths and signage everywhere, there were natural trails winding through native vegetation. Instead of exotic animals flown in from around the world, the focus was on local species…animals that actually belong in that environment.

We weren’t fighting for space at exhibits. Or navigating tour groups or schedules. It was just us, the animals, and the sound of the wind moving through the Loblolly pines.  It felt less like visiting an attraction and more like being part of the environment.

Simplicity vs. Spectacle

The smaller zoo didn’t have the scale of San Diego or Omaha.

No rides.  No elephants. No massive habitats. No “must-see” headline exhibits. But it had other things like space, time, and calm. And in a way, that made the experience more memorable. This is something we keep running into during our travels.

Bigger, more complex experiences often come with higher costs that can be calculated not just financially, but also in terms of time, energy, and attention.  Smaller experiences are often cheaper, less crowded, more relaxed, and sometimes just more enjoyable

Of course that doesn’t mean smaller is always better.  It just means simpler is often enough.

The FI Connection

In the financial independence space I hear the phrase “return on hassle” primarily used to talk about investment options, but the idea applies everywhere.

You don’t always need the biggest house, the newest car, or the most expensive vacation Sometimes a smaller, simpler option delivers just as much (or even more) satisfaction at a fraction of the cost. The Lowcountry Zoo wasn’t free, but it was certainly inexpensive compared to major zoos. And more importantly, it didn’t feel like we were sacrificing anything.  That’s the sweet spot.

A Both/And World

To be clear, we’re not giving up on big zoos. Now that the pandas have returned to the San Diego Zoo, I am sure we will make a point to go back at some point. There’s something exciting about the scale, the energy, and even the crowds.

But I’ve come to appreciate that smaller, local places have their own kind of charm with less spectacle and more connection. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need. Sometimes the biggest upgrade isn’t going bigger, but going simpler.

Your Turn

What about you? Have you found areas in your life where smaller ended up being better? Not just cheaper, but genuinely more enjoyable?

Stuff: The Other Four-Letter Word

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We’ve lived in our current home for twenty years. That’s two decades of books, birthday gifts, holidays, hobbies that didn’t stick, and random purchases that “might” come in handy… someday. Katie insists that compared to many of our friends, we’re practically minimalists—either because I’m too cheap to buy things in the first place or because I lack any sense of style when it comes to decorating.  If you know me, you know it’s probably both 🙂 

Still, two decades in one place adds up for anyone. And when you have a house, you have room to let things pile up. As George Carlin famously said, “A house is just a place to keep your stuff.” He had other words for stuff, but you get the idea. Now that we’re planning a life without a permanent house, we’ve had to confront a scary truth: something has to be done with all this “stuff.”

There are a lot of popular theories on the best way to downsize:

  • The Marie Kondo method: Does it bring you joy? (Spoiler: most of my stuff just brings me confusion.  What if I go back to a job I last held 15 years ago?  I might really want that…)
  • The one-year rule: If you haven’t used or worn it in the past year, it’s out.
  • The Storage Bin Challenge (my personal, unpopular idea): Everyone gets one big bin to keep items they value.  No-questions-asked. Then we swap rooms and decide what’s valuable in each other’s piles and throw EVERYTHING else away. This, I argue, removes the emotional attachment and speeds up the process. The family disagrees. Strongly.
  • The fire test: If the house burned down, would I pay to replace this?
  • If you didn’t think the fire test was dark enough: If I passed away, would the person cleaning out my house find any value in this?

For now, we don’t have to actually decide on everything. We’re keeping the house for our first year of nomadic travel, partly as a home base and partly as a very expensive storage unit. But just prepping for our older son to rent it this year has forced some tough decisions and a lot of trips to Half Price Books and the donation center.

So, what works for you? If you’ve downsized, what’s your secret weapon for letting go of stuff? Because one thing’s for sure—if this slow-travel adventure works out, we’ll need to learn the art of living with less.