The Fire Inside

As I read the recent issue in “The Atlantic” in the Dispatches section “A Fine Country For Old Men” by Idrees Kahloon, I paused midway on its second page. What struck me was something I’d thought about nearly daily. A question of how my generation and a generation before mine received benefits for their aging out of the workforce. And it wasn’t just that that’d struck me. It was as well, the knowledge that our youngest child states every now and again of how the Boomers have screwed things up for her generation. I’d mostly held my disagreement, keeping it to myself. Yet I did not exactly agree or disagree with her, until I reckoned with all the facts. That’s out of respect for another human being. Yes, respect for a child who’d just become an adult of our modern era. That’s not what happened in my day, nor was it certainly in the family I grew up in. To me, my upbringing compared to today’s standards and mine were an aberration if not a catastrophe. On the outside I appear ‘okay’, somewhat conversely on the inside brews an unrelenting fire cursing the biological spectrum I’d come from.

Yes, I did more than survive. I thrived, even as I’d felt as if I were drowning in heartache for what could have been for others in my family. Which would have been a more enriched joyful life. Which I could have shared with them, if they’d only stopped looking over the fence with envy. If they’d only stopped blaming and witnessed the possibilities of dreams not reached but realized by others. Even as the cacophony of indistinguishable abuse arrived not only from my biological family, but also from society, I still managed a good working marriage and raising children with my now deceased husband. We both worked full time since we were of eligible age, paying taxes due regularly.

My coming from no money that I knew of, I’d decided to enter the military. I figured serving in the Marines would help my resume if I’d survived—if not at least, I’d have some honor at a young age, giving whatever I had to those I’d never known and not living to any kind of old age.

I never planned on meeting Mr. Right and settling down, for it was not in me to settle down. I knew it was my responsibility to eat well and stay in shape regardless of what the rest of my life encountered. I learned that by age six and it was embedded in me by age seven. By age eight I knew no one could truly rescue me. And if they had it was pure luck or that my solo prayers with God every night had actually found favor upon me. Too, I knew I had two options, either stay in the military for life or go into something like law enforcement, either way I knew working full-time was always the option. I was geared towards these options from age thirteen upon my own will. Or that was till my new boyfriend, who’d become serious about our relationship quite soon after a few dates expressed, he could tolerate my military service, but not me working in law enforcement. He wanted me to choose a safer line of work/career. When I realized that this may very well be the man for me, and that he cared quite a bit I made the curve towards accounting and corporate office work.

Except for COVID shutdown of a few months, I was unemployed one week of my life as an adult before then. So, now with nearly fifty years of work and paying taxes I realize that quite a few women in my generation, the Boomers weren’t working fulltime for even half that time. And we could state that the economy was better; however, that depends on who you are. What race, religion, culture, etc… Yes, growing up we had volunteers apparently more readily available; however, there was not necessarily more stay at home moms volunteering back then. This could have been due to more chores, less automation, more children per capita, not all moms had a vehicle and still some were barely knowing how to drive in the generation before the Boomers. My mother knew how to drive; however, she didn’t always have a working car to drive. It seemed like a roll of the dice if she had a car and if the car would even work. Mom didn’t drive us to school, nor pick us up but three times in the K-12 years that I could remember. We were as much as 1.9 miles to walk to school one way. We didn’t have knapsacks, we carried our lunches and books in a variety of ways, even in rain and snowstorms—hoping nothing would get wet or fall from grace into a puddle we were adjusting to avoid. Too, many times after Kindergarten, I’d walked home alone to and from school without my older brother. Walking home from school certain years for lunch with a friend occurred about once a week. Walking back to school after those lunch years was quite often solo.

So, here we are as the Fine Country For Old Men has recently decreased its intergenerational peace, because of mostly white men (and some white women) fearing the continued path towards fairness for all people, as if these Old Men were to live forever and their fear of becoming diminished so insignificantly to be harmed by those they’ve intended harm and have harmed for generations of the past. Now, they have decided to pull back the security for those after them and away from the poor that were financially covered in their generation and the generation within their families prior to theirs who’d received funds due to medical disabilities.

As the Old Men, mostly white gain riches, they then decided to pull the safety nets that do help everyone in this country. Yet, the bulk of those who’d thought this was a good strategy to save our country from becoming less wealthy have erred. The bulk of those who voted in favor of a bankrupt human being on every level into our highest office can blame themselves for their possible losses and their children’s and grandchildren’s definitive losses. And Whoa! It’s a huge economic downfall, as spinelessness continues in our members of congress, senate and the majority conservatives of the SCOTUS.

Too, those mostly white women in my neck of the woods as of about fifteen years ago when polled 70% were stay at home moms, not paying taxes from their paychecks that they didn’t earn—yet would still benefit when aging out of the workforce. That statistic was taken by insurance companies back then covering a ten-town area. When you haven’t felt the pain of having to work full-time and pay taxes nearly all of your adult life, you have little right in judging those who’ve been paying into the system regularly. Too, if you have not been stricken by incurable disease, disability, crime, or natural disaster, any one of those areas can take away your employability.  As I was once told, “You’ve got to live it to know it.” ---- Jody-Lynn Reicher