Crutches and Wheelchairs

Growing up working class or poor isn't easy. The obvious hardships aside, being poor, even for a limited time in one's life, can make someone feel an obligation to their work, lifestyle, and finances throughout their entire life. Even when the money is there, your sensibilities remain that of a member of the poor folk.

In my life, my stock has seen some major ups and downs. This constant up and down hill path has left me to conclude there is no such thing as financial stability. You either have no money and do what you can, or you have money that is all spoken for to live your given lifestyle.

When my family was "remotely" stable, shall I say holding down a steady job at barely above minimum wage, we had hamburgers from McDonald's and Pizza Hut pizza. We finally got an Atari (used of course). We even did some mild "do-it-yourself" remodeling of different rooms of our house. But, throughout the various struggles, my parents were always very vocal. They were always reminding my brother and I how little money we had. There were fights every two weeks (payday) about the finances, the bills, the money or lack there of. They were often so loud and vicious you could be anywhere in the house or even out of it and still be within earshot.

I can't speak for my brother, but I felt a lot of guilt. I felt helpless as a young boy. I felt guilty for ever asking for things. I remember wanting a package of Dolly Madison chocolate covered donuts once and grabbing them from the shelf and going to the check-out counter to pay for them with my own money while my mom was still do her shopping. I didn't want to trouble her. I didn't want my two dollar box of goodness to play a part in the fight that would ensue between my father and her on the next pay day. I can even recall telling my little brother to stop asking for certain things. I was desperately trying to get his young mind to comprehend.

When my family was at it's poorest, we had government cheese and powdered milk delivered to our door by a man with sympathy in his eyes. People at the church would find out my Dad lost another job and would bring us casseroles or cakes. I remember my mother dropping only change into the offering plate when it was passed during service. Our allowances were carefully monitored at $3-$4 a week based on a very detailed rate per chore. 25 cents every time we took out the garbage. 50 cents to water the plants. 1 dollar to vacuum. It was left up to us how much money we would make. My mother waited tables at a musky, edge-of-town chicken inn. My father cleaned drains, shoveled snow and collected unemployment. We didn't have cable, or a pet. We bought all of our clothes (the ones that weren't handed down) at K-Mart. We kept our thermostat at a ridiculous 68 degrees in the dead of deadliest Iowa winters. Our vacations (if you can call them that) consisted of visiting relatives in Omaha, or going to the crappy little amusement park in Des Moines called ADVENTURELAND. The passes to ADVENTURELAND were discounted by my mother collecting enough points at our local grocery store. I even paid for groceries a few times with the discount I received by working as a bagger at HY-VEE. My first official "on the books" job. I had been mowing lawns, raking leaves, and delivering papers long before my job as a bagger. But, the law stated you had to wait until you were 14 to be an official employee of any company. I began training at HY-VEE before my 14th birthday. I remember my parents encouraging me to apply a few weeks ahead of time, so that I could be trained and ready for work the day after my 14th birthday. My birthday is September 29th. On September 30th, 1991, I attended my first day of work at HY-VEE and bagged groceries and stocked shelves for 6 hours. I have been working for a living ever since.

Later, as an adult, I would experience my own form of "government cheese poor." I would also experience a salary that out weighed any of my parent's salaries combined. During my ten years on my own in NYC, I still feel like I never have any money. Regardless of how much I make, I am constantly fighting the urge to spend. I am always second guessing my decisions with money. Maybe I should move to Jersey so I can start saving? Maybe I should start packing a lunch? Every Wednesday when my paycheck arrives on my desk, I hear the shrill voice of my mother, through her tears, defending some purchase at the grocery store. She thought the boys would love it. Dad thought it was a waste of money. I hear my Mom telling me to live a little. I hear my Dad reminding me to plan for the future.

Ultimately, what I end up doing is planning to save, plotting out all the appropriate steps to take, and falling short by throwing caution to the wind and swiping my debit card for the tab at Centrale. I have every intention of saving money, but just when I am about to go to the bank to open a mutual fund or a CD, I check my account balance and there is only enough to get by until the next payday. I don't know if it will ever change. I look at my parents and realize it hasn't changed for them why would it change for me.

A large percentage of people spend their lives working to live. We get up in the morning and answer to our alarms and our bosses, all for the sake of some dough. Are we ultimately striving for money? Isn't that what we want? Money and lots of it. We want to be rich. That's why you can buy a lottery ticket just about anywhere. I am surprised Thai restaurant haven't started issuing powerball numbers. We want quick cash. The quick fix. Fix what? What will the money fix? I think one of the reasons I never have more than enough money to live on, is because I live. I spend the money I have while I have it. If I don't have it, I don't spend it. I can't spend it. Throughout my childhood, fear was instilled in me regarding money. I heard my parents cries of fear. They were cries of "where will the next dollar come from," "how can we ever afford this/that/the other," "don't spend it, we finally have it, let's just hold on to it." I could have grown up constantly afraid to spend in case I don't have any money the next day. Or, I can grow up the way I have and spend it as though there may not be a next day. I am sure neither way is the "right" way. But, I don't know if I need any more money. I was fine when I had even less than I do now. In fact, I might even say I did more with my time and worried less about money, because there was none to worry about.

We spend our lives angry at the rich, envious, jealous, pitiful, only to desire to be just like them. They spend their lives never understanding the value of an earned dollar, most anything at their fingertips, and a strange aversion to discussing and/or owning up to their true financial freedom. When the reality of it is-that the poor, the rich, and the in between just want to be recognized, respected, and revered for who they truly are.

If the poor stop using their experiences and struggles as a crutch, and the rich stop using their circumstances as a high-speed, automatic wheel-chair through life, maybe one day we can all get along and never again let money ruin/run our lives.