âThe thing about money is, we can always make more, so letâs go out to eat tonight!â âMy dad, after being laid-off, working odd and probably demeaning jobs so we could have dinner.
âAh, baby, I want to buy this for you, itâs not like I can take the money with me when I go.â âMy mom, when she bought me new clothes while I was between jobs.
âThereâll always be a job out there you can work, but weâd prefer you happy instead.â âBoth my parents on jobs (âI can always get ya a job ditch diggin! Theyâll always need ditch diggers. Hard work, but no college necessary. I can talk to the Hall.ââMy proud, union dad, enthused, three seconds later.)
âIt doesnât matter what they do with the money after you give it to them. Drugs, beer, it doesnât matter, maybe thatâs what they need? How do you know?â âMy dad on giving money to the homeless.
âNah, weâll never make any money, my husband has morals.â âMy momâs friend, fondly reflecting on the fact her lawyer husband isnât working for a big money firm.
âDonât worry! Iâve got this!â My equally poor friend buying me dinner when my debt card declined.
âI know we didnât have furniture in the living room when you were growing up, butâha!âremember Balloon Ball?â âMy dad reflecting on the made up, mock-volleyball game weâd play in the open living room, using balloons. He had used electrical tape to make the court.
âIâm sorry we could never take you anywhere greater growing up,â âMy mom, reflecting on our âstay-cations.â (âWhy?â I asked, reflecting on all our trips to the park, zoo, public swimming pools, libraries, free theater, two dollar movie days, and her and my dad right there with me and my brothers.)
Bring poor is hard and itâs not right that it happens, but I prefer it to the hustle because at the very least, poor taught me what love is and I wonât let a shitty job deny me that.
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