MOVING

This is the first place that I've lived that my mother won't see. It occurred to me in the midst of the move. It's a shame too because I love this house more than any other, except perhaps the first one I ever owned. The move inspired lots of thinking about my mom. As we moved Bunny's inheritances from her mother: fine furniture with marble tops, heirloom sterling and dishes that are now worth thousands, I smiled when I caressed those trinkets that were my mother's: a smooth stone, a wooden cross, her glasses and bible, a few pieces of costume jewelry. These are my treasures, and though they're worth nothing in terms of monetary value, they're items that I cherish. All remind me of my mama, and I found myself often saying: "Look, this is MY mama's stuff, and it means as much or more to me than fine gold."

These sentiments express a vast difference between my partner and me. Though we both grew with middle-class values and highly educated parents, her family was also economically middle-class. Mine was far from that. Though I certainly didn't as a child and young woman, I now appreciate my early deprivation. I need less material stuff to be happy. I love a bargain and great sales. I have good taste, but I'm also a smart shopper. I'm satisfied with less. I need less to be happy. I live in a perpetual state of wonder. This tiny 100 year old house in this tiny snow-covered village has brought me immense pleasure and joy. Nothing special about it. It's certainly modest by most standards, and it would be considered by some, a step down from our last house. For me, it's a huge step up, and I'm thrilled. I'm in a sense of wonder about my life now. I never, ever dreamed that I'd be able to live the life I now live. There's absolutely no material thing in this world that I want. Nothing. I have everything I need, and I just can't believe it. I've exceeded my material imaginings, and I don't choose to manufacture more. This is why I can retire next year. Will I have a ton of income? Nope. I don't need a ton. My freedom and my life are far more important to me than money.

My mama, who, like my partner, had an extremely privileged upbringing, lamented the loss of status her entire life. She hated "being poor" and agonized over the loss of her "very wealthy" childhood and young adulthood for her entire life. Mama would say she "married down," and when my grandfather's brothers and others "acquired" all of his wealth, my grandmother, who never worked, acquired enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Her children, however, didn't get much from their father.

My parents struggled my entire life. We lived in various ratty parsonages on Daddy's miserable salaries. When Daddy died (I was 13), we were left with nothing. No insurance, no Social Security, and a pension of less than $50. per month. My mother hatred working and hatred poverty even more. She never adjusted to deprivation and lived daily with the past that had long vanished from her life. Even as she was dying, she spoke to the father whom she adored and who provided her with the best of everything money could buy. As Mama died, she assured her father that "I've been a good girl."

My mother's sadness eventually became mine. Even as a child, I never mourned the absence of things. I was sensitive to my mother's sorrow in that regard. I worked, earned money for what I needed and made myself satisfied. I never asked for that which she couldn't buy, and I never complained about what I didn't have. The Christmas before my father died, he wasn't able to give us any of the things we wanted. My brother got a baseball shirt, and I got a stuffed dog. My daddy cried. I hugged him and acted like that dog was the single best present I'd ever received in my life. What mattered then and now is that my daddy didn't hurt because of what he was unable to buy me. Deprivation made me care about the real stuff that had nothing to do with money, and that's the way I feel today. I'm so, so grateful for this life I have, and I'm so, so grateful that I know what to want.

I count my wealth in human relationships. I count my wealth in love, kindness, good wishes and concern. I count my wealth in good deeds I'm able to do. And despite all criticisms I receive, I count my wealth by the ways in which I can help others who need when they need. So yeah, if my "little sister" from Big Sisters ten years ago, "ain't got no money to pay her rent," I'll send it to her. And yeah, if one of my students needs books or a ticket home or clothes, I'll buy them. If somebody mama can't feed her child, then she can have my last dime. That's just the way it is cause I got food and clothes and shelter and everything I need and more than that. I don't need to save for a rainy day cause it may not rain, and I may not be around when it does. I live in the here and now. I'm here by the good will, kindness, generosity and love of other people. So there's just no need to tell me about how I "have no sense about money." I do have sense. It's a different kind of sense. Money is a gift to be shared. That's the way it works in my world.

And don't leave this post thinking "I'm blessed," or "God is smiling on me," or none of that nonsense. God ain't got no reason for blessing me more than any other human in this world. God ain't smiling on me and frowning on the homeless. God ain't blessing me and cursing those in need. This ain't God. It's circumstance--a coming together of various circumstances. Just sayin'. If God is God, she ain't operating like that. No way. No how. Later.