If I Were a Rich (Wo)man

We watched an interview with playwright Terrence McNally and actress Tyne Daly this morning.  It was about the new play(Mothers and Sons) McNally has written for Daly, which is currently getting rave reviews on Broadway.  In fact, Daly has been nominated for a Tony for her performance of a woman who lost her only son to AIDS twenty years before the play begins, and her meeting with his then-lover. 

At the end of the interview, I wanted to get tickets for the show and fly to New York to see it, but we are already scheduled to go to France later this year and one expensive trip a year is about all we can afford. Besides, all we could afford of tickets on Broadway would be in the nosebleed section and I've become so spoiled by our free critics seats in the expensive section of all the theaters.

At the same time, we just had word that Char and Mike have made reservations for a tour that sounds fascinating.  They are flying to Iceland for a tour of that country and then a flight to be somewhere where they can get the best view of the next lunar eclipse.  It sounds interesting, and Iceland is a country which I would like to explore, though I don't know why.  But the cost of this tour is prohibitive and we just can't afford to join them this time.

When things like this come up, you think (a little) about how nice it must be to be rich.  To be able to fly anywhere on a whim just to do something like going to a play.  One of my latest additions to my bucket list is to fly somewhere first class (or at least business class)...a flight long enough to enjoy the ability to actually sleep lying down on the plane.  How lovely that must be.

But if we can afford to fly somewhere, it's in steerage, with cramped leg room and no room to put down a tray table if you have a big belly.

But disappointment over not being able to afford these expensive things was put in perspective for me when I read a blog entry from Compassion.

I'm poor.
I think we started saying it in our college years when we were living on student loans or our parents’ mercy, and we have continued to carry it with us as we age. We usually say it in casual conversations like, “I love that restaurant, but I’m too poor to eat out very often.” Or “I’m too poor to afford cable TV.” Or as I recall recently saying about an upcoming trip my extended family is taking, “I’m too poor to go to Disney World.”
Usually we say it flippantly — we realize we’re not that poor. But I think we say it because in the United States, there is always someone richer than you just around the corner. We are so surrounded by great riches that our relative riches seem paltry in comparison.

I don't think I've ever used the expression "I'm poor" because I know I am not.  But I certainly am aware of the limits of our money and how I can't just go off willy nilly and buy whatever appeals to me at the  time. But even with that mindset, I can't begin to imagine how rich I must seem to my Compassion kids.

Compared to 99% of the billions of people in the world, I am rich.   My house has a door, and a roof, and a floor, and windows and running clean water and I even let dogs live here and sleep on the furniture.  My house has furniture.   Walt and I have 2100 square feet for just the two of us, and so much stuff that the house feels cramped.  

We can't afford to fly to Iceland and take a special plane to see an eclipse, or fly to New York just to see a play (though we did do that twice to see Jimmy and Steve on stage), but we have a big screen TV and a couple of computers and lots of electronic gadgets. I have to decide what I'm going to cook each night from the stuff that is stored in the kitchen, I don't have to wonder if I'm going to have any food at all.

It is good, once in awhile, to stop and think about not what you can't do for financial reasons, but what you can and do do because you can afford to do those things.  It does us good to think about the families who must share one small room, who walk miles each day to get polluted water for cooking and washing, and who, when they get a monetary gift, buy items of necessity for the family (Anjali has bought an iron, a suitcase, and kitchen equipment to help her mother, instead of toys for herself)

Each time I get a letter from one of my Compassion kids they always ask how my health "and the health of your family members" is.  I realize that this is because disease is so rampant in all of the areas where they live that health concerns for people you care about is always an interest. I live in a country where there is preventive medical care, immunizations, and health guidelines to keep the cities disease free. It would never occur to me to ask Char how the health of her family members were, unless I knew someone had a specific problem. 

Some of my kids are in AIDS impacted areas, some suffer because they can't afford mosquito netting.   Little Fred's baby brother died a couple of years ago--I still don't know why.   Shallon had to give up a year of school because her sister got malaria and she was the only one who could earn money for the family while her sister recovered..

Whenever I am disappointed because I can't afford such and such, it's time to stop and realize that I am wealthy beyond the imagination of my Compassion children.   It's all in your perspective, and I need to stop and give thanks for what I do have.

Blog Action Day

What is Blog Action day?

In 2008, the Blog Action Day theme is Poverty. Bloggers are free to interpret this as they see fit. We invite bloggers to examine poverty from their own blog topics and perspectives, to look at it from the macro and micro, as a global condition and a local issue, and to bring their own ideas, views and opinions on the subject.

Many years ago I heard a story that, for the very first time ever, made me uncomfortable to be living in Davis. Whether the story is true or not, I don't know. But it concerned a pregnant woman and her small child who showed up at the community meals. They asked about where they could go to spend the cold night, because they were homeless.

At that time there was no facility in town that was available to women and children (there still isn't) and so the pregnant woman and her child were put on a Greyhound bus for San Francisco. I was trying to imagine what she would do when she arrived in San Francisco, with her child, at night, not knowing where to go.

But she was out of Davis.

As I say, the story could possibly have been not true, but it was one of the reasons why I started volunteering at Davis's homeless shelter a few years later. I felt the need to feel like I was contributing something, even if it was only typing services one day a week.

It was a real eye-opener. The homeless shelter is down by the rainroad tracks. You don't "see" homeless people around this town, at least not then. But I met a whole different class of people, many had just been released from the county jail, many were drug addicts trying to get their lives together, many were just guys who were down on their luck and were trying to get back on their feet.

I remember working with one guy on learning how to use the computer. He had been on and off the wagon for years and this was his last chance, he told me. If he fell off the wagon again, he wouldn't be back. I really liked him and was so proud of the progress he made on the computer. Then one morning he wasn't there and I never saw him again. I always felt so sad about that.

It was bad management that made me quit that job. I was reinventing the wheel every time I went in and I just got tired of doing it, but it was an eye opener for the year that I volunteered there.

You see homeless people around Davis now. They all have signs and they stand at the entrances of mall parking lots. I never know what to do. I hate giving them money, but I never mind buying them a meal. One day at a truck stop we saw a mother and her small child standing in the rain with a sign begging for money so the little girl could eat. We went to Denny's, which was across the street, and bought a gift certificate for the mother, so she could take her daughter in out of the cold and give her a meal. As we drove off, I saw her put the certificate in her pocket and continue asking others for money for a meal for her daughter. I can't imagine how terrible it must be to feel that desperate.

I remember one Christmas when I went into the supermarket and bought a full Chinese dinner for two guys who were sitting outside, being ignored by everyone wha walked into the store. Then I did my shopping and when I went outside again, they were sitting there eating dinner and thanked me profusely for the best meal they'd had in days.

I remember being in Tijuana one afternoon, with all the family. We were actually leaving Mexico and walking back across the border. We had been followed by little kids begging for money all the way. But I was completely out of money. I didn't have a cent left--I hadn't brought much with me to begin with. At one point I turned around and saw the kids talking to this little kid and I took a photo. The mother came over to me and demanded money. I had taken her child's photo; she should be paid. I felt awful that I didn't even have a penny to give her.

All around us we see people in such need. Most of us don't have the wherewithall or the opportunity to do something "big," but sometimes something "little" can make a big difference in someone's day. We can't personally wipe out world poverty, but we can be aware of it around us and, when we have the opportunity, do something to help out, even if it doesn't feel like much at the time.

In 2000, I wrote this, as part of a longer entry

On the way home today, I ran into Tony and his friend. They were sitting outside the supermarket and they asked if I’d take their picture. Walt talks with street people all the time, but I have always been more reserved. But I remembered watching the interactions that Peggy (who claims not to like meeting new people) would have with total strangers everywhere we went, and so I stopped to talk with them. Tony smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and he told me he spends his day on the bench outside the supermarket. He was so excited that I took his picture and asked if I’d make a copy for him. We talked about the homeless shelter (where I used to work and he goes to have a shower every day). And it was nice. I thought, when I left, how pleasant that had been...and how easy it was to open up to someone rather than to remain closed.

For those who are looking for a more direct way to help someone trying to pull themselves up out of poverty, might I recommend that you check into Kiva. I learned about Kiva from a TV broadcast by Al Gore.

Kiva's mission is to connect people through lending for the sake of alleviating poverty.

Kiva is the world's first person-to-person micro-lending website, empowering individuals to lend directly to unique entrepreneurs in the developing world. You make small loans, usually only $25 and your money joins with other lenders until the amount requested is reached.

The people you see on Kiva's site are real individuals in need of funding - not marketing material. When you browse entrepreneurs' profiles on the site, choose someone to lend to, and then make a loan, you are helping a real person make great strides towards economic independence and improve life for themselves, their family, and their community. Throughout the course of the loan (usually 6-12 months), you can receive email journal updates and track repayments. Then, when you get your loan money back, you can relend to someone else in need.

I've made four Kiva loans. One has already been repaid and I used the funds to make a second loan.

It seems likc such a small thing to do, but when you realize how you are changing people's lives, $25 at a time, it seems such a small thing to do to make a big difference.

These are my current Kiva Partners: Rubaba runs a general store in Azerbaijan.

Firmine runs a store in Benin; Martha rents videotapes and DVDs in Bolivia.
All have children they are trying to feed and school. All are now paying back their loans.