Groundswell and Poverty

I recently had to wake up to a hard reality: I'm poor.  

Coming home utterly famished after my nearly 4 hour surf session the other day, I looked in my fridge and saw that the shelves were completely bare, save for about a quarter of a red onion.  I looked in the freezer as well.  There was a frozen bag of peas that I had used and reused, multiple times, to soothe aching knees.  I think it's been in the freezer over two years.  But when the post-surf munchies swarm you, and you have nothing else to work with...you make do.  I sliced and sauteed the onion in a skillet while I chopped and broke up the block of peas and tossed them into a steamer.  I added a few seasonings and mixed them into a bowl, poured myself a glass of tap water (I normally only drink bottled water as my well has a very high sulfur content) and sat down to "dinner."

Not only was I hungry that night, but I was utterly frustrated as well.  My surf session had gone badly.  A few days prior, my back had gone into a spasm, and though it had eased up some, and I stretched and yogaed before and during my session, even coming out of the water a few times to perform all the poses I knew on the sandy beach...my attempt at loosening the kink was futile. 

The surf was really powerful during this particular swell, pumping in from a large offshore storm.  Though surfers in much of the rest of the globe are quite used to such offshore groundswells (opposed to weaker "windswell" generated from more local storms) it is a rare treat for the East Coast of North American surfer.  Usually we only see such events during the hurricane season.  

There's a world of difference in power and surge during a true groundswell.  Not only do the waves travel more swiftly, they pack a heavier punch.  Prior to paddling out, I was quite stoked to have the opportunity to surf "real" waves.  Only my back spasm, my creaky knees, my lack of fitness, and...a really, really strong, swirling current that forced me to keep up almost constant paddling just to hold position in the lineup, all conspired against a good session.  Top that off with many of the waves being closeouts, and the recipe called for a thoroughly humiliating time in the water.  Oh, I got pounded alot, had some great wipeouts, and probably paddled a few miles against the current until my arms went all spaghetti...what I didn't get, was any good, or even decent rides.

I went home with my tail between my legs...and hungry.  Really, really hungry.

I was hungry because I hadn't eaten a meal all day.  The reason I hadn't eaten wasn't by choice.  When things are stable for me, I live mostly paycheck-to-paycheck.  I've accumulated an enormous amout of debt in the past few years, mostly due to life circumstance and astronomical medical expenses.  Coupled with the fact that--though I work two jobs, and between 50-60 hours a week, with alot of driving expenses (2-3 hours of daily commute)--my profession as a licensed nurse's aide barely pays more than minimum wage.  When any kind of major expense comes my way, it carries potentially catastrophic consequences for my life.

My car engine died a few weeks ago, while trying to drive home from work, nearly 35 miles from home, at midnight.  I sat in the dark almost an hour waiting for a tow-truck.  It cost me nearly $200 to get towed back home.  And the next day, the garage gave me the bad news: $3500 to replace the engine.  Never mind the fact that I also needed a rear brake job and at least one new tire, the car wasn't even worth that much!  It's a frikkin 2005 Kia Rio with 126k miles!  It always kills me when car mechanics just so casually break the news of how much your repairs will cost you.  As if we all just have hundreds, or in this case, a spare 3-4k just lying around for them to suck up. 

At the time I got this news, I had $157 in my checking account.  In addition to trying to calculate how I was going to pull off making a mortgage payment before the month was up, to stave off collection proceedings (I've already had my loan modified after the bank initiated foreclosure last year) I had many other bills and collectors who were asking for their piece of my ever shrinking pie...

Replacing this engine was a non-option; my only way out, was to finance a new (USED) vehicle.  After riding my bike for 45 minutes, I pulled into the lot of a "buy-here-pay-here" used car dealer.  The guy seemed friendly and honest enough and after an entire day on the telephone with my bank, my insurer, my employers, and my dear friend who loaned me the down payment cash, I drove away with a 10 yr old Subaru.  Transportation.  The means of getting to and from...work. 

I'd been struggling for quite some time (2yrs actually; but more acutely in the last few months) and for almost a month I'd been subsisting on Ramen noodles, pb+j sandwiches, and whatever food I could scavenge from the kitchen at the nursing home where I work.  Actually it was my co-workers who helped insure I got at least one "meal" a day by fixing up a plate of whatever was on the menu for the residents that night.  By the time my car died though, I was down to spoonfuls of peanut butter (no bread left) the last couple of packets of Ramen, and tea.  On the plus side, I have lost over 15 pounds! The "poverty-diet" however, is not one I would recommend. 

I am not good with money; never have been.  I like to think I have what I term: A healthy disrespect for finance and all it represents.  But no matter my philosophic sensibilities, the hard reality is, as I've learned the hard way, at least in this country, ya gotta play the game or you won't survive; it's rigged against us any other way.  So this experience has been a wake-up call.  I've got to learn how to more effectively budget the means I do have.  No longer can I so cavalierly spend with little regard to latter consequence.  Okay, so I don't make alot, that only means I gotta learn to live without...Not so easy when you grew up in a priveleged, white surburban way...

By the standards of Modern American living, I'm poor.  I live with debt, and I live in poverty.  I can't make ends meet.  I can pay my bills, just not all at the same time.  I can put gas in my car, if I just don't eat.  I can pay for a roof over my head, if I just don't heat.  Something's always sacrificed; I can't have it all...wake up call...

But...am I really poor?  While I was sitting in the car dealership, I picked up a magazine to peruse while they were busy prepping the car and putting together the paperwork.  It was a travel magazine and the first page I opened up to was a full page spread of an elderly gentleman in some African country.  Bald and gray, tattered suit, riding an old jalopy bicycle that was painted in the color of rust and dust, his possesions in plastic bags strapped to the rear fender riding one handed down a dusty dirt road, with the other hand and arm, cradling a chicken.  The look on the man's face was not of despair or misery; he looked rather serene actually, hint of a smile on his face...apparently just going about his normal daily routine...

What is wealth?  What is poverty?  Depends I guess on who you are, where you live, and what matters to you...One thing I learned through this experience: When you are down and out, there are those who will help you...and those who will kick you...life comes in waves; sometimes those waves are weak windswell, sometimes more powerful and dangerous groundswell...you gotta learn how to ride both...