I once briefly dated a guy who lived from hand to mouth. He got by on about $600 a month, mostly donated by friends who thought he was a starving genius. Literally he never knew at the beginning of the month whether he’d have enough to make it to the end without going hungry.<\/p>\n
He was also a mega-slob. But he always said that if he someday had enough money to live in a nice place he was sure his “naturally clean self” would keep it impressively neat and spotless.<\/p>\n
At the time, I lived in a house that was tiny but a gem. I’d bought it from a young architect who’d remodeled it for himself and his family and it was a work of love. Mr. Naturally Clean Self would come over and after an hour it would look … well, just like his place. Grime on the counters. Cabinet doors left open. Jackets and shoes discarded in the middle of the floor, furniture askew.<\/p>\n
Now I realize some people just aren’t into keeping a tidy house, and that’s dandy. But I laughed at his self-delusion.<\/p>\n
He also believed that someday he’d be famous and fabulously wealthy as an author. But of course, he never put a word down on paper — while at the same time he wouldn’t think of holding an actual job or doing freelance work because that would disrupt his spiritual and creative flow.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This relationship didn’t last too long (surprised?). But it was … instructive.<\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
Have you ever driven across an Indian reservation and (sorry if this sounds something-ist, but with rare exceptions it’s true) noticed how ill-kept most of the houses are?<\/p>\n
I imagine there are lots of reasons for that. Maybe the housing is provided by the fedgov so there’s no individual pride of ownership. Maybe it’s a cultural thing. But nearly everyone will tell you it’s because of “poverty.”<\/p>\n
Of course it’s not just on reservations. There are plenty of houses like that in other places, though even in the poorest neighborhoods, you’ll see some houses whose lawns are mowed and whose yards are clean right next to places with yards full of trash.<\/p>\n
That’s “poverty,” too. Yet the same poor people who can’t afford a $20 trip to the landfill can spend hundreds a month on cigarettes.<\/p>\n
Our local rescue group used to regularly get calls from a woman who “couldn’t afford” any medical treatment for the dogs and cats she kept producing, but who — in addition to smoking like the proverbial chimney — often sported fresh, pricy new tattoos.<\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
I was recently talking to a person who suffered through a natural disaster and said that the worst part wasn’t losing everything; the worst part was that nobody helped. Once the media had departed and the charities had left their gift cards, there was no neighborliness, just crumbling and decay — not only of the buildings, but of relationships. There were no friends extending helping hands.<\/p>\n
Again, there could be boundless reasons for that. But one that this person cited was poverty. His neighborhood was below the poverty line and people had all they could do (and in some cases more than they could do) just to get by.<\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
A certain type of intellectual has always blamed poverty for all the problems of the miserable poor. Crime, drug addiction, broken families — all caused by poverty.<\/p>\n
More recently there have been psychological studies claiming to prove that merely being or even feeling<\/i> poor leads to bad judgment, which leads in turn to deeper poverty. I haven’t studied the studies up close so I don’t know how accurate they are. Certainly being poor and desperate can lead people to do poor, desperate things like run up unpayable debts in the name of trying to get ahead or just stay even.<\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
But “poverty” is just another half-assed pat answer that answers nothing. My friend Joel<\/a> is poor. He’s at least as bad off as Mr. Naturally Clean; worse, just counting (lack of) dollars. Yet in other ways he has a life of abundance — abundant freedom, abundant time (when not shoveling horse poop or hauling trash for neighbors), abundant friendships, and an abundant support network that’s made up of some people nearly as poor as he and some who could, given a few different choices, be the sort of self-satisfied suburbanites who’d look down their noses at a smelly old one-legged hermit like Joel. (P.S. “smelly” is his own description and trust me, it’s exaggerated.)<\/p>\n