A short time ago, I became eligible for my Covid vaccine. I
embraced the chance. I was never worried about catching Covid, or dying from
it. I am old enough to know death is always around the corner. I am also fortunate
to have had such a wealth of experiences in life that I probably have used up
other people’s quotas of pleasure, as well.
The Covid vaccine works by injecting a small quantity of
dead Covid-19 virus into your body. Your immune system rushes to repel the intruders
and, over the course of attacking these invaders, builds up antibodies. For me,
that is the way life works. You deal with welcome visitors and events every
day, but you also deal with unwelcome experiences. Those unwelcome ones teach
you more and prepare you more thoroughly for life than the pleasurable events.
If I wanted to approach life pessimistically, I could
complain about how inequitable life had been to me as a child. Extreme poverty,
social isolation, lack of opportunity, prejudice … all the common complaints of
those people who view themselves as poor and as victims. But none of that is
true. I was blessed to have been raised in a radically impoverished environment.
I believe that I have been more fortunate than most people raised in a middle-class
or upper-class community.
My claims likely will arouse the ire of those who believe
that everyone who is poor is there due to circumstances beyond their control,
that everyone who lives in poverty wants to remove himself from that experience
or that everyone even views poverty as an undesirable condition. Let them be
upset! Sanctimony does not bring a person closer to understanding and paternal
attitudes about others do very little to heal any chasms that exist.
In truth, I am one of the lucky hundreds of millions in the western
world who are defined by our income, rather than who we are. If we have a lack
of material wealth, relative to an arbitrary standard of poverty, we are not
just branded as “poor,” but we are branded as being part of a lower socio-economic
class. In other words, lack of money has also relegated us to a lower social
echelon, by virtue of that economic paucity. It is a condescending phrase borne of a
condescending attitude.
Live the life before you critique!
My parents struggled to earn the money they needed to raise
their family, but they never failed to keep us in clothes, living under a roof,
eating a meal. That made us richer, in money, than many others in this world.
However, we had advantages that many other children desperately need. Our
parents instilled – no, drilled – in us the belief that a lack of knowledge, a
lack of morality and a lack of curiosity were far more insidious symptoms of
true poverty than a lack of cash could ever represent. That made us richer than
the wealthiest children raised without intellectual and ethical curiosity and
conviction to act on those values.
Still, I was raised in a two hundred sixty square foot house,
built from recovered lumber from an old garage, without heat. Six of us lived
in that tiny space. Our family’s income never exceeded $1,500 in a year
(slightly over $9,000 in today’s dollars) and averaged under $900. One room of
the house had no floor. We had no television for the first eleven years of my
life. Most times, we had no car, but lived in the country. Not one of us ever
had a single piece of new clothing. We had no indoor plumbing and no source of
running water. If we got sick, we recovered or we did not: there was absolutely
no commercial medication; just the natural remedies that grew around us. The
list of supposed markers of poverty were everywhere, but, still, I was not poor
in social status or in the wealth of experiences.
My life was a Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer existence. Because we had
nothing, we found excitement and joy in the smallest of things: spring runoff
water, playing cricket with tin cans and sticks or building a helicopter with old
pieces of metal, car seats, wood and branches. Because we had nothing we needed
to improvise and create and, from that, I have learned extensive lessons in all
the trades and crafts.
Not having wealth and living in a community that had only a
modestly higher standard of living than we did, we learned to rely, not on
money, but on knowledge and ability. A lowly farmer can fix any piece of
equipment or create a tool where none exists, yet he is regarded as of a lower
class when his ability actually is superior to most.
While the stress of living hand-to-mouth can be immense and
lead to family conflict, it also strengthens bonds by compelling people to work
together to achieve a goal. From that joint effort arises camaraderie and from
that camaraderie grows real friendships and the willingness to overlook differences
and find commonality.
How many of the wealthy could survive a week of pure income
hardship; not relative, but pure? Go without even one meal. Do without a
vehicle or the money to pay for gas. Have to scavenge for wild plants for your
vegetable part of the meal? Wear clothes worn by strangers until they were
threadbare then handed off to the unfortunates? Even do without telephone,
Internet or television for only a day or so? Walk to work in the snow, slush
and rain because he or she could not afford the luxury of public
transportation?
The peculiar result of living every moment without the
supposed security of money accomplishes several things. First, it forces
independence and self-reliance on an individual. It fosters creativity as we
struggle to survive. And, oddly, it develops a perverse pride in many of us, as
we recognize that it is not we who are poor in many ways: it is the wealthy who
lack the breadth and depth of experience that our lives cultivate. Indeed, more
than a few of us actually look down on the rich, because they are, in our eyes,
weakened by their lavish lifestyles.
We can survive in the harshest of conditions but that also
means that we can embrace the meagre pleasures that come our way. Yes, most of
us would welcome the money, but we do not need it. We have intelligence that
comes from living life day-to-day.
Most of us have learned to understand others and see their
plight sympathetically. That holds true for how we view the rich. We can see
that they, too, have to struggle. But we also see that it is a choice for them
and not a choice for us. We have learned
the value of the moment. We have learned the value of other people. We have learned
to lend a helping hand, instead of a boot to the face of people near us, who
are attempting to keep themselves from drowning in economic hardship. We
understand, because we have been through it.
It is true that poverty is not a disease or a virus, but it is
a threat, and my dose of poverty has helped immunize me against the risk it
poses. I have gained. I have learned to respect others and treat them fairly. I
have learned that no person is inferior because of income or social status. I
have learned generosity of spirit. I have learned self-reliance. I have learned
the value of every moment in the world around me. I have learned that, had I
been raised in an economically affluent lifestyle, I likely would not have had
the advantage of experiencing these lessons so deeply. So, yes, I am one of the
fortunate people who was raised in poverty, and for that, I am richer.
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