I’ve been hearing on the radio the things that Mrs. Obama has been saying to the crowds recently. It’s the same things I’ve been hearing from the Democrats for years. To listen to them, one would think our country is on the brink of economic and moral disaster. The rich are always evil, the poor are always oppressed and innocent, and it is the duty of those in power to even things out.
Well, there ARE some evil rich people. That’s about as far as I’m willing to go in agreeing with them. Of course, there are evil poor people, evil middle class people, evil people in general. Or, to be more correct, people who engage in evil behavior. There are also some very good rich people, good poor people, good middle class people. I remember being asked when being vetted for a jury pool if I believed that all cops told the truth. My answer? “There are good cops and there are bad cops, just like any profession.” That observation applies across all races, creeds, genders, and age groups. But for those who don’t think that life has treated them fairly, it is so much easier to find a common outside element on which to push all the failures of life.
I am the seventh child in a large family. My father had to work multiple jobs almost my whole childhood, and we didn’t get to see much of him. My mother, bless her heart, had to handle the daily duties of the large brood. Laundry was washed every day. She sorted and washed, we children helped with hanging the laundry on the line. We tried not to use the dryer, because we were in constant “save money” mode. We always knew money was tight when the beans and cornbread came out. I sometimes had the feeling that we were somewhat begrudged the food we ate, though it wasn’t until I was an adult that I understood why. Huge volumes of foodstuffs disappeared down the many throats, like an overgrown brood of chicks in a nest. We had a huge garden in the backyard, from which we harvested and canned our food. Behind the garden were the livestock: rabbits, ducks, chickens, and pigs. We butchered much of our own meat. Mom sewed clothes and house linens, and repaired our hand-me-down-clothes on her ever-running sewing machine, including winter coats for my sister and me, which we hated wearing because the other kids had store-bought coats. I was in high school before receiving my first store-bought shirt, from the dollar discount rack at K-Mart. I was so excited to get that shirt! While a child, I didn’t realize we were different from others in our community. As I grew older, I began to comprehend that we were different. While others could buy their school lunch, we were always brown bagging bologna sandwiches and baggies of chips or popcorn. While other kids took family vacations, we stayed at home all summer. While other kids went out to eat with their families, I was flabbergasted and excited about being invited to Long John Silver’s with a classmate for eight grade graduation. I’ll never forget David’s mom saying, “It’s just Long Johns!” What she didn’t realize was that it was a place to eat that wasn’t home. Except for one vague memory, I had never “eaten out” before. But for all that, no one ever told me that we were poor. Nobody ever said we were lacking anything. So I never had serious issues with my childhood economic status.
I read voraciously as a child, and looked forward to elementary school. All of my elder siblings chose different courses in school, and not all of them productive, while I focused on my classes and strove to achieve. I was so embarrassed when I brought home my first “C” in ninth grade math! I was the first of the tribe to go to college. All of my elder siblings chose different courses in school, not all of them productive, while I focused on my classes and strove to achieve. I was so embarrassed when I brought home my first “C” in ninth grade. Because of my focus on my education, I was “lucky” enough to be awarded a full ride scholarship to college. (I dislike greatly the use of the word “lucky,” as if I didn’t put in any effort to be eligible!) After entering the university, I always carried 15 or more hours, applied myself diligently, didn’t skip classes, and turned in all of my assignments. I graduated with nice scores and was able to get a job with a large airline, eventually moving on to consulting work, and now work at running the family business with my husband.
I tell you all of this to point out a few things. We were not privileged. There were times in college where my fiancé and I had to live off of his Dad’s credit card. I worked in the summers to earn much-needed money. When I became depressed about my workload in college, my fiancé kept me from quitting and we helped each other stick it out. If I had to, I would have found some kind of part-time job during the semester and not told my scholarship trustee. After marriage, there were times where I literally wondered if I’d be able to buy groceries for our next meal. I had to use unemployment one time, and I didn’t like it. The idea of going “on the dole” just never occurred to me.
Why do I tell you all this? Because, if my parents had listened to the line that today’s Democrat leaders spew, we would have been on welfare. We would have been told over and over that we were not capable of helping ourselves. We would have been bludgeoned with the fact that money was tight and we could not hope for anything better. If I had been told as a young child that I had no hope of ever attaining better, would I have worked as hard? Would I have pushed through in college when times got tough? Would I have become so dependent upon handouts that when I entered the tough times after marriage, I would have settled for the handout lifestyle and given up?
Perhaps I’m an optimist. Where the Obamas of the world see people who need more welfare, I see untapped potential. Where they see unskilled workers without jobs, I see a business opportunity for someone to teach them. Where they see children as a burden to be disposed of, I see the future of our country. Where the screaming about poor education abounds, I see parents and a culture where a free education is not valued. Where they decry the rich for taking the money away from the poor, I see examples from which the poor can learn to improve their lives. I don’t get angry about someone getting ahead – I try to copy them! Don’t lick ‘em, join ‘em!
Where are the programs to teach the poor to handle money? Why isn’t someone organizing them, teaching them to work together to achieve honorable ends until they can stand on their own? Instead of telling people how incapable they are of handling their lives, why are our leaders not lifting them up and giving them dignity? If you beat me often enough, at some point I will finally succumb. This is a depressing example of Pavlovian economic policy: punish attempts at success, and reward submission.
Our society may have problems, but they are not the problems that Mrs. Obama describes in such heart-wrenching detail to the admiring mobs. Our country is not on the brink of demise, not yet anyway. I could never live with myself if I had to always see the dark side of life, never hoping for anything better. Even worse, I could never live with myself if I brought others down by telling them they could never hope for anything better, that they were the playtoys of fate alone. How dismal that outlook is! I wonder – how well do the Democrats sleep?