Thursday, February 29, 2024

Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?

So I was in the grocery store a few days ago, after cashing a cheque at the banking machine nearby, when I noticed a young man approaching female shoppers.

He was carrying a package of ground beef.

Instead of trying to avoid him, I stayed my course and made eye contact. When he asked for money so he could buy the beef, I unzipped my thrift shop purse and was about to give him a $10 when I decided on the $20 that practically fell out instead.

He thanked me and we both went on our way, him no doubt to return the ground beef at $8.68 and buy a couple of pre-made roast beef sandwiches, but I lost sight of him and don't know.

Maybe he went to the beer store across the street.

For a while I worried whether he would even know how to cook the ground beef, if he had anything to go with it, and on and on. Then I reminded myself everything's not my responsibility, and did my best to have faith he could look after the ground beef details himself.

It's crazy but ever since I began paying attention to my ego, I catch myself trying to take responsibility for other people and situations that are none of my business ALL THE TIME.

I'd blame motherhood but I think I might always have been like this. Everything's up to me.

When I told My Blond Companion about it later, he figured the guy probably stole the ground beef and left the grocery store $20 richer.

I realized as soon as he said it, that's exactly what I hope he did. Steal what you need and keep the change.

I have no experience living in poverty. My Blond Companion has some. I've never not been able to afford to live decently, not had money for rent and food, not been able to go out on the town, outfit myself in fashionable finds. All this even though I've only ever been an office temp and was a dozen years out of the workforce.

Divorce was a hard knock but I worked my way back again.

Born middle-class, I've had the privilege of a middle-class Canadian life. There's nothing I want I can't afford and yet I have nowhere near the assets most middle-class Canadians my age do.

The other evening on CBC Ottawa CBC news, Omar (double barrelled last name with more syllables than Vanoldenbarneveld) was in Belleville interviewing various and sundry involved in a growing number of people relying on Bridge Street United Church, which used to have a drop-in for mothers at home with babies and toddlers, for a place to be. They take dangerous drugs to numb themselves, often overdosing, and require the deployment of healthcare and policing resources, already stretched, as a result.

It's the same everywhere, people with no resources living and dying in our public streets while other people complain about having to pay taxes, as if they aren't sitting on more assets than they could possibly use up were they to live to 150.

People have a hard time quitting smoking, giving up alcohol, I have no idea how people addicted to fentanyl can be expected to get clean. And even when they do what about the brain damage they've incurred, the assault on their bodies, the family they must leave behind on the streets.

We have to start sharing the wealth.


No comments:

Post a Comment