Remember the movie Shakespeare In Love? Though most of the details of the film have evaporated from my memory, one fragment of a scene has stuck with me. It was the dance sequence where Shakespeare encounters his love interest - I think he was crashing the event. Food and wine are flowing liberally among the company, but as a servant brushes by the performers' stand with a tray, he sternly admonishes the lutenists, "Musicians don't eat!"
As my larder dwindles and my food choices begin to become monotonous, I find myself having a very short fuse and blowing up at circumstances that I used to dismiss easily. For example, I made a point of cancelling my 3-month Match.com (definitely a frivolous purchase) subscription on-line early this month to interrupt their auto-renew payment scheduled to kick in last week, but they charged me anyway! Yesterday I had to run a torturous maze of "Press 1 if you have a billing problem, press 2 if you want to discontinue service, have your account number and password ready, enter your credit card number here (repeat) (repeat), all the while listening to a continuous fugue of a sales pitch for all the benefits of the service that will be lost, lost, if you depart. "It may be 7 - 10 days before you see a return in your bank account." It took them less than a breath to bill me against my wishes in the first place!
The Combined Life insurance rep. called me yesterday - I cancelled that accident insurance plan years ago but they're still after me, oblivious to reality.
And today I stood in line for over an hour to convert my Verizon phone to a Straight Talk track plan. My Verizon contract expired over a month ago, I removed my adult son's phone from the plan at that time (would have done so earlier, but there was a penalty). I told the rep. at the time that I would be discontinuing the service for cost reasons - they immediately offered a nominally reduced rate, which I turned down. I coasted on Verizon until this week - when I saw they planned to jack my bill up an additional $20/month. With that bill (and necessary account numbers) in hand, I went to Wal Mart and waited behind an elderly couple for a full 45 minutes while they went through the 40 steps necessary to do the same thing I wanted to do, convert to a $30/month track plan. They kept glancing back at me, offering apologies for the delay, and I smiled and replied, "I am going to drop dead standing in this line before giving up getting this phone today!" And Verizon can whistle for their $92.
It's the anonymity of the whole thing that burns me now. You have to fight not to be charged for things that you can no longer afford. And the companies involved, while going through the motions of offering more affordable options remain oblivious to the fact that there are none! Cut the crap! Your stupid overcharges mean I have to live on lentils, rice, and my pantry garden produce for an additional month.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Poverty Mindset
Is there a poverty mindset? The media proclaim that those born into a low-income lifestyle are largely destined to remain there. The implication then is that not much can be done about it, so don't waste your time trying to promote beneficial programs. Low expectations breed low outcomes. And on and on....
I was born into a pretty strange lifestyle, come to think of it. My parents, four older brothers and myself lived on a farm, raised dairy cows for awhile, and farmed or rented out our land, and went to the local schools until high school. But my mother (circa 1920's) was raised in an urban environment of music lessons, private schools, governess for the children, cook in the kitchen, upstairs maid, downstairs maid and a seamstress who stopped by once a week to help grandmother with the mending. Because my grandfather was a medical doctor and worked for a living, they considered themselves "middle class." Money issues were never discussed in front of children - a hold-over she carried into my generation that left me woefully ignorant of practical financial planning when I reached adulthood.
On the farm we lived frugally within my father's Kodak income (his day job - between milking cows morning and evening). "The big yellow mother" always provided health insurance and it never occurred to us children that our medical and dental needs would not always be met. The only cost outside this umbrella was my braces, for which payment mother gamely returned to work in a local factory for something like $75 a week (mid-1960's).
Though our income was modest, mother raised us upon the "nobless oblige" principles of her own upbringing, seasoned with the enlightened socialism of my working class father. In her later years she worked in the inner city, making life-long friends with people with backgrounds very different from her own. She was equally at home at elegant dinner parties or hobnobbing with the rich and famous. Her example awed us. My father was always somewhat irked by my mother's ease (which he did not share) in moving among people of all walks of life. "You think you're as good as anybody," he once remarked, to her amusement.
I am technically poor but don't have a poverty mindset. I wasn't raised that way. I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do, with as much as I need, and more to give away. My expectations are high, but not where money is concerned. It's a beautiful life. Thank you, mother.
I was born into a pretty strange lifestyle, come to think of it. My parents, four older brothers and myself lived on a farm, raised dairy cows for awhile, and farmed or rented out our land, and went to the local schools until high school. But my mother (circa 1920's) was raised in an urban environment of music lessons, private schools, governess for the children, cook in the kitchen, upstairs maid, downstairs maid and a seamstress who stopped by once a week to help grandmother with the mending. Because my grandfather was a medical doctor and worked for a living, they considered themselves "middle class." Money issues were never discussed in front of children - a hold-over she carried into my generation that left me woefully ignorant of practical financial planning when I reached adulthood.
On the farm we lived frugally within my father's Kodak income (his day job - between milking cows morning and evening). "The big yellow mother" always provided health insurance and it never occurred to us children that our medical and dental needs would not always be met. The only cost outside this umbrella was my braces, for which payment mother gamely returned to work in a local factory for something like $75 a week (mid-1960's).
Though our income was modest, mother raised us upon the "nobless oblige" principles of her own upbringing, seasoned with the enlightened socialism of my working class father. In her later years she worked in the inner city, making life-long friends with people with backgrounds very different from her own. She was equally at home at elegant dinner parties or hobnobbing with the rich and famous. Her example awed us. My father was always somewhat irked by my mother's ease (which he did not share) in moving among people of all walks of life. "You think you're as good as anybody," he once remarked, to her amusement.
I am technically poor but don't have a poverty mindset. I wasn't raised that way. I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do, with as much as I need, and more to give away. My expectations are high, but not where money is concerned. It's a beautiful life. Thank you, mother.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Counting the Groats
Counting the Groats
At this time of the winter season I
really start appreciating the richness of last summer's garden bounty.
Since I 'graduated' out of Food Stamps at the end of November, I now
have to pay my household bills plus groceries
with a half-time $10/hr. job, selling books on the Internet, and what
I can pull together out of my musician's bag of tricks.
Since New Year's Day I spent about $30
for groceries, the majority to feed my cats,
the rest being apportioned among very necessary coffee, milk,
eggs, and a tub of hummus. I am doing without cheese, peanut butter,
processed veggie proteins, salad greens, and other quick fixes. The
refrigerator is a yawning void, yet I eat sumptuously from
pantry and freezer.
A supply of dried green split peas,
navy beans, lentils and quinoa are adequate and flavorful proteins in
winter casseroles and soups. My dried cherry tomatoes add just the
right tang to a rice and lentil bean loaf. The freezer is about
1/3 full of green beans, green peppers, mixed veggies for stir fries,
corn, chard, and pesto. 20 lbs. of potatoes and 10 lbs. of onions
remain in the cold corner of the cellar pantry. Home-canned,
well-seasoned tomato sauce (15 quarts on hand) can be heated up right
out of the jar, to go over rice or pasta or be the base of a
minestrone soup. There are about 25 quarts left of canned applesauce
and peaches as well as half a shelf full of strawberry and peach jam.
Right now I have a peach cobbler in the
oven, which took me about 5 minutes to assemble (and 40 minutes to
bake) from a quart of peaches and baking ingredients on hand.
Lack of cash is actually improving my
life by forcing healthier choices. There is no more "grab and
go" eating or easy sweets. Planning and preparation are
necessary and enhance my appreciation. The variety and quality of my
meals are much higher now that I am "reduced" to living
mostly off my stored summer wealth.
Let's wake up and re-educate ourselves
to this reality. It is worth it.
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