The Rich Poor

“You can be anything you want.” What a crock of crud!!! I’ve wanted to be independently wealthy for the better part of three decades, and I’m still poor. Not poor enough to qualify for any type of public assistance, food stamps, or medical insurance. Just poor enough to survive paycheck to paycheck, one illness away from the lights getting shut off. There’s food in the cupboard, but just enough to ward off starvation. Yes, there’s a fairly new car in the driveway, but the car payment is usually late and the oil change is past due. Roof over my head, of course, but there’s at least fifteen home improvement projects currently fighting amongst themselves to see what gets the much-needed attention first. Money in the bank? Sure. The $2.37 in my savings account earns a whopping three pennies per year. I’m living the dream over here!

In 1972, after renting for a few years, my grandparents bought the house I’ve called home for most of my life for the low price of $16,000. In 1999, they sold that same house to my mom for $37,000. We lost mom at the end of February. She left the house to my sister and I who now have the privilege of paying inheritance tax on the current assessed value of the house….approximately $200,000. Now, even taking inflation into consideration, no one in our family has paid nearly that much for this house. No one in our family could afford to either. Well, at least not if we also wanted to have running water, gas, and electricity. Let alone food, garbage pick up, and internet service. Oh, we need cars to drive so we can get to work. Then of course there’s cell phones and insurance. And let’s not forget about those pesky home improvement projects.

The American dream is a thing of the past. Gone are the days of being able to buy a house, start a family, and build a life. No, instead the majority of us are living the American nightmare. Grinding our life away for a paycheck that doesn’t even come close to a real living wage. Working our forty hours a week, usually more, and still relying on credit to make ends meet. They say the first thing you need to do if you want to get out of the hole is to stop digging. But what happens when the government is digging directly underneath you?? That’s the reality for many in my generation, and most of my children’s generation. We’re out here pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps just to get kicked in the face. It’s disgusting. And it’s sad.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’d still much rather live in the USA than anywhere else in the world, but when are we gonna help our own? You want to know why people abuse the welfare system? It’s because financially it makes more sense than getting a job. Hard work is no longer rewarded. It’s punished. My mom worked her entire life to provide for us. She died with no fortune to pass on to her girls, nothing of any monetary value to leave us to give us a step up while learning to live without her. Except the house. The family home, passed down from generation to generation….assuming we can come up with the taxes being imposed on us by a government that simply doesn’t give a shit. I mean honestly, what right does any government have to say that I can’t have my mother’s property unless I pay for it?? Somewhere along the line, Americans really dropped the ball. We elected officials and allowed them to become corrupt. Even worse, we let it continue for decades because we’re too damn scared to stand up and say enough is enough.

I probably shouldn’t write when I’m so emotionally fired up. I’m just ranting at this point, so I’ll shut up now. I’ll leave you with this thought…for the rich poor, $1000 can be life-changing. LIFE-CHANGING!! Consider that. It’s pocket change to the rich, and not even enough for a security deposit to help a homeless person off the street. But, for the rich poor, that $1000 can be the key to getting back on track, to keeping the lights on, putting gas in the car, or food in the fridge. It could provide the much-needed morale boost for the mom who hasn’t had a good nights sleep in months because she’s just too stressed. It could be peace of mind for the dad who got the flu and missed a week of work at his job that doesn’t offer sick time. So where is that program? The one that offers a hand up to the ones trying to do the right thing. Ok, hopping off my soap box for real this time. Goodnight.