...is about complacency. I feel like I've run into it a lot recently - people boldly making declarations about all the friends they have (and will always have), how much money they make, how well-liked they are. I feel like all of these are a matter of good luck as much as skill and effort, and not to be taken for granted. I don't think I can expect to always have friends (much as I'd like that). Some really nice people end up isolated and sad. I can't count on always being in good health and able to work, either, or always being middle-class. I could end up having my feet amputated due to my Guinness World Record bunions, and then lots of opportunities would be lost to me. Although then I could play wheelchair rugby.
I'm reading Barbara Ehrenreich's book Nickel and Dimed. She spent two years "undercover" working service jobs in the U.S., and her experiences are an eye-opener. I never thought that a lot of waitresses, hotel maids, and other people might not even have a place to live, but among Ehrenreich's coworkers housing was a continual source of stress and disruption. Because they couldn't afford to pay the security deposit and first month's rent on an apartment up front, many of them were living at hotels on a more-or-less permanent basis, spending the first six or seven hours of work each day just earning what they needed to pay that night's hotel tab. A fifth of homeless people are working full or part time, and they still can't afford housing. I think it would be awful to work hard all day and not have anywhere safe or comfortable or permanent to go home to at the end of the day.
I'm so lucky to have had all the opportunities in my life. I've never been homeless, always had two parents who were involved and caring, always had the financial means to go to school. It's crazy that I whine sometimes and think I'm getting a raw deal, when I'm getting advantages most people in the world can't ever hope for.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment