Sharing the 'wealth'

Early Great Depression right-wing fear mongering. In 1931 people were literally starving and Herbert Hoover and his cronies refused to do a thing. The wealthy were in real fear of a revolution. It was closer to being a possibility than people realize today. Rogers implication that starving people living in Hoovervilles were looking for a handout was the worst sort of lie. They craved a hand up, not a handout. We were living in a Model-T Ford in 1931. Canvas top, wide open on both sides, no brakes. All my father and millions of other men wanted was a job. Veterans of World War 1 were shot for demanding the bonuses they had been promised. Rogers and other right wingers like him were the worst sort of bastards. There are some of that type around today. Bail out Wall Street and General Motors, forget everyone else.

Good post, Dick. I wasn't there but I have heard that sometimes those working weren't getting paid, but they didn't quit. My grandfather had a sign on his license plate with the words, "Unpaid Teacher." He never stopped teaching. He just stopped getting paid.

In Flow On Sweet Missouri, an historical novel based on family, a cousin said she wanted me to change the book regarding my grandfather helping her family since her father was a jeweler and had no work. It was all right to say that they came to dinner at my grandfather's house every Sunday, but she told me they would have been too proud to take his money.

I did change it, because although it was an historical novel, I wanted to keep it as authentic as possible.

Carol

The biggest problem I have with the article is its concept of scarcity, and the idea that for one to get more, another has to get less, or that their is only so much to go around. It seems a materialistic approach, where nothing is ever more than the sum of its linear parts. It doesn't allow for the possibility of growth, as though we can add or subtract, but not multiply.

A mathematician or physicist could explain it better than I can.

Ann

Zada, being unfamiliar with the name, Adrian Rogers, and curious, I decided to Google it after I wrote my post.

It seems he was born in 1931. Before his death in 2005, he was one of the conservative Christian ministers who advised George Bush.


Ann

I like your mathematics, Ann.

I agree. Prosperous people often give to the less prosperous without any orders from the government to do so.

I've told this before, but we have a restaurant on an almost impassible road being reconstructed and people get there some way, not to give a handout, but to eat a reasonably priced dinner. I talked to the waitress about this the other night and she got tears in her eyes. A friend said it was kind of like "barn raising."

One day 75 people made reservations. These people lived around Merrimac, a town of about 400 people with a median income of $25,000 per year for adults. It wasn't exactly the rich giving to the poor, but people just wanting to help.

Carol

It's better when those who have extra share the wealth without the orders of government to do so.

Malcolm

I agree it is better, Malcolm, but too many of them are busy figuring ways to avoid paying their fair share of taxes to get involved in a worthy cause. There are some that do, fortunately.
Having everyone equal is an impossibility and not even desirable. The danger comes when there is too wide a gap between those that have it all and those that have nothing.

The trouble is, Dick, that the rich are being asked to pay more than their fair share of taxes. They use no more government services than anyone else, but end up paying more for what government provides.

That's about as fair as saying that when people with higher incomes walk into a grocery story, they have to pay $10 for a gallon of milk while others get the exact same milk for $4.

I doubt the founding fathers had this kind of government in mind.

Malcolm

It is certainly a good way to discourage the ambitious from making money!

I know there are many generous people around. The problem is that the filthy rich are not usually the generous ones. Those who have moderate incomes seems to give the most. Do you suppose they have good memories and remember what 'doing without' is like?

Zada,

I tend to question the phrase "filthy rich." This implies that anyone who does his job well somehow did it in an illegal or unethical way. At what level of income does a regular person tern into a filthy person?

Malcolm

Sorrty, Malcolm. Poor phrase choice on my part. It is certainly arbitrary. Perhaps it only pertains to drug dealers who have millions in their mattress?

To me it would be someone who makes in excess of $500,000 a year and dodges taxes!

I have known more misers who had lots of luxuries and would not give a dime to a panhandler. But then, that is how they keep their money, by not giving it away. The shame comes in when they throw good and often expensive items in their trash rather than donate it to somewhere like Goodwill or Salvation Army.

I lived in a town where most people thought they were rich but weren't. But the man who lived next door was really rich. He'd had some successful investment and retired in his fifties. I have thought about this in the night and will write it here.

There is an unwritten airline pilot rule, "Never be home during emergencies." My husband missed most of them, so it was either just me or I asked for help. When my daughter got her head stuck between the rungs of the stair railing, I called Hank and he got her out. When my older daughter was stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock, and the doctor said I didn't have time to call an ambulance but needed to get her to the clinic immediately, and I'd had an automobile accident the previous week and had no car, Hank calmly drove us to the clinic and got us there just in time.

Then there were the rabbits. Someone had moved away and let their pet rabbits go. So the boys in the neighborhood took to trying to catch one of them. A white rabbit would be happily eating petunias, and six yelling boys would come running after her and she'd take off and find some other petunias to chew on and the boys would have no idea where she went so fast. So Hank got involved.

Hank grew up on a farm and knew all about rabbits. So he taught the boys how to sneak up on the rabbits so they'd have a better chance of catching one. But first they had to build hutches.

Then he told them if they caught a male and a female rabbit they could have baby rabbits. "How will we know if they are girl rabbits or boy rabbits?" the boys asked. (Good question, I thought.)

"No problem," said Hank. I can tell girl rabbit a....es from boy rabbit a...es." (This comment caught my attention.)

So they began catching rabbits and putting them in the hutches they had built, but they were all girl rabbits. My son said he had a friend who lived on a farm and had rabbits. He thought we could get a boy rabbit from him. But since we already had a few rabbits and were planning on baby rabbits, Hank said, "No that isn't necessary. All we have to do is have one of our girl rabbits visit one of the boy rabbits for the weekend." (So that's how it happens, thought I with five children.)

So that's what they did and the girl rabbit was pregnant. One glorious day there were baby rabbits and Hank helped the boys care for them. (I knew about taking care of people babies but not rabbit babies.)

I really liked Hank. So did my kids. I have no idea what taxes he paid or what money he gave away. But I know he gave himself to a bunch of boys one summer building hutches, chasing rabbits and having the experience of rabbit babies.

And he helped save my daughter's life. He was a good man.

Carol

Zada,

I like to think that any one of us here on the forum might one day write a bestseller and then we would suddenly have an income that placed us into the top brackets. I would hate to think that I was sullied by the money alone or that others thought that because I had that money, I never shared any of it.

The drug dealers and the tax dodgers are definitely in the filthy crowd. :-)

The miser always astonishes me, those who won't spend a dime for themselves or anyone else and then when they die, their families find a couple of million dollars scattered between mattresses, socks and bank accounts.

Malcolm

P.S. Nice post, Carol, rabbits included.

Carol, that was a great post, and a true example of sharing wealth. I think that is the truest form of sharing. The giving of self and experience is the richest form of caring about one's fellow man/woman.

Malcolm, I agree about keeping what one has earned. It should be up to the individual to use their riches as they choose. I truly hope that someone here does write a best seller and gets to make enough to put them into the top brackets.

Money seems to be the focus of wealth, but when it comes right down to the concept, many of us are wealthy. Experience and knowledge are things one cannot put a price tag on, or tax.

Things one accumulates in a life time can make for wealth, and it can have many forms. But, whatever I have left at the end of my life will not be left to a cat!

8/10/2009

Hi Everyone..

To me wealth is having your health, mine I had
to retire at 62 because of a heart and Chronic Pulmoanary Disorder. Wealth to me is I have several books published and maybe brought joy to someone who read them. To me wealth is the joy of watching mother nature, the hummingbirds or watching my garden flourish. To me wealth is having good friends and what family you have left. To me wealth is the joy of doing my photography or painting on canvas. To me wealth is having a great pet like Dusty for nine years who brings me great joy and love and knowing she counts on my everyday. Finally to me wealth is getting to know so many authors here over the last five years who all have written books with a mission and a passion for writing.

Cheers....Joe

Joe,

My life is kind of simple here in Wisconsin and there are things that bring me great joy.

A week ago we went to Duluth, Minnesota and took a train ride from Duluth to Two Harbors. It wasn't really a train, but more like a street car, or commuter car, but this one was 50 years old and the last one still used.

The engineer and conductor were in their sixties. One had been a marine biologist on Lake Superior. The other person in charge on this trip was Joan, who said she was the narrator, candy bar and drink sales person, and bathroom door attendant since the latch didn't work.

They were all wearing appropriate train clothes. They invited people to come up front where they were driving the train and little kids went and blew the horn. Those in charge blew the horn a lot.

On the way back my husband and I sat right in back of the section where the engineer and conductor were driving the train. We overheard the following conversation as we sat laughing. Just thinking about it brings back that laughter.

"Aren't you going to slow down for the bridge?" asked the conductor as they approached a bridge over a beautiful stream.

"Sure," replied the engineer, as they reached the bridge and crossed over it.

"That was slowing down?" asked the conductor.

"Well, I went from 30 miles an hour to 25 miles an hour. If you had wanted me to go slower than that you should have said something."

"Last week Jack went flying across that bridge at 30 miles an hour."

These people were older people volunteering to play with big trains for the day. They probably had train sets as kids, and moved on to bigger and better trains when they retired.

Maybe you had to be there, but this train ride made my life richer for the day, as it was making the lives of these men and women who volunteered their time richer as well. I don't think I would have had that much fun on a luxury ocean cruise as I did on the train that day.

But I do love trains more than boats.

Carol

Hi Joe. Good to see you here.

Carol, what a wonderful train ride you had.

Back when I was a kid during the Great Depression I was given some advice by a hobo making the rounds hoping for something to eat. His words were something like this, "Kid, if you're ever down and out don't go to a big church or a wealthy neighborhood because you won't get help. Go to the poor neighborhoods because they're more willing to share."

My mother was the last and late life child of eight, the other seven gone from home, leaving the family farm in disarray but for a few former sharecroppers who continued farming a bit and sharing it with her folks without any formal understanding. They all sort of bartered with each other; a big woman cooked for my grandmother who, in turn, sewed clothes for her family and so forth. Everyone got along quite well in spite of the hard times, with food and clothing at least.

At the furthest reaches of the farm were freight train tracks, a primary line taken by hobos. A few made their way to my grandmother's stoop at supper time and were fed. She told them, "Now, if you tell anyone that I'm a settin' dinner for passersby you better tell them to just wash up at the pump, sit here quiet and don't spit. If someone is sittin' here quiet like 'tween 6 and 7 in an evening, just like I said, well, they'll be fed when my family's done."

My mother said almost every week night during the depression from two or three to many hard luck men sat quietly at the edge of her mother's stoop and in the field, waiting for dinner. The food was always enough for the number of men there. No one came on weekends.

Sometimes, they left behind gifts they had carved in a piece of wood they found or fresh game they caught. Some would send a letter back, a thank you. Some found work and sent a little cash "to help others." If they saw a fence that needed mending, it didn't stay in need long.

Some neighbors were afraid of the hobos and said they stole and looted homes along the railroad. My mother's family never lost even a chicken. As a child, my mother was amazed at how far her mother could make a pan of cornbread stretch or how many bowls she could get from a pot of stew.

No one ever goes hungry in my mother's house, either.

I love these real life stories. The poor were and are the most understanding and willing to help - no strings attached.

Dick Stodghill wrote:

Back when I was a kid during the Great Depression I was given some advice by a hobo making the rounds hoping for something to eat. His words were something like this, "Kid, if you're ever down and out don't go to a big church or a wealthy neighborhood because you won't get help. Go to the poor neighborhoods because they're more willing to share."

Very good advice--the church-goers will tell you where you went wrong. The wealthy will tell you to go to work. The down and out will understand and try to help you.

It is sad, but very true.

Hi, Joe, Glad you are here.

Great story, DK. It says so much about people.

One time long ago, I was horribly lost on the highways around Boston after dropping my husband off at the airport and trying to return to a friend's house where we were staying until we got our own place. I had our three small children with me. There were no cell phones nor rest stops or 24 hour gas stations. I had been lost for several hours finding I was heading for Maine, rather than the town I needed to go to south of Boston. I went into a town to find help. Everyone in the car was crying. I could not find a police station, but did find a church with the lights on. There was a serious meeting going on until a lady in tears came into their midst.

And they helped. I was running out of gas and someone went home and got me gas they had for their lawn mower. Someone else called our friends who were frantic, and another got me a map and told me how to get where I wanted to go. (I was miles and miles away.) I'll never forget that group of people.

Love Carol

PS. My four-year old grandson said I should put this fishing guy in my message, so here he is.

Very good Carol,

What religion was the church?

I have found the most helpful people are Catholics. They know where they will go if they are not nice.

The rest of the religions are too busy poinitng out the errors in Catholicism to do anything beneficial.