There is no class so pitiably wretched as that which
possesses money and nothing else.
— Andrew Carnegie
Those of us simple folks who grew up poor (I mean welfare
poor) and then come into a little money by working hard (and sometimes being in
the right place at the right time) bear the burden of a great socio-economic
responsibility to our fellow man. There are three categories of people whom I
believe we can help by setting a good example:
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The poor, both by practicing charity and by setting
examples by going into the community and spending time, not money.
Stuff as simple as being a mentor for a student, helping at soup kitchens or
shelters, or (one of my favorites) going into the schools and libraries
which service the underprivileged youth and reading books to the little
ones, getting them excited about books; the ones whose minds are a clean
slate, ready for good examples to be written all over.
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The nouveau riche. Ever hear the horror stories about
lottery winners who end up drinking themselves to death? The entrepreneur
who makes a fortune and then complains that as his fortune increases, his
spending keeps up with (or exceeds) it? How many homes does one need? How
many sports cars? What kind of insecurity causes a guy who grew up in a
three-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and makes a few bucks to feel that he
must prove to the world that he did make a few bucks? His home is
double-mortgaged; but heck, there's a BMW and a Range Rover in the driveway!
Worse is the case of the guy who finds himself hopelessly in debt keeping up
with the Joneses, 'cause his Joneses don't live in Brooklyn anymore;
his Joneses live in the exclusive suburban town he chose to move his family
to and he didn't realize the Joneses had far more "stuff" than he can
afford, even on his six-figure salary. What do we do? Gently let them know
that there's an alternative to the rat-race. It's called the karma of
simplicity; the polar opposite of "he who has the most toys when he dies,
wins."
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The super-rich. Yeah, a simple soul like me can make a
difference by helping elect politicians who're somewhat honest
(oxymoronic, don't that sound?) and who covenant to make a difference for
all people; who're brave enough to question the breaks and
loopholes given to the small percentage of the population who hold the most
wealth? So what if the capital gains taxes seem unfair to those
who're gonna pay big-time for their "golden parachutes"
and divesting their stock options. If, by taxation, we can get wholesome
meals and learning materials to children who right now don't have 'em 'cause
mommy and daddy are out spending their
food-stamps for crack, ain't it worth it to put someone like Leona
Helmsley (the poster-child for unmitigated greed herself) in the
position of having to perhaps forego purchasing one more
Matisse for her Greenwich estate? There are so many people of means,
albeit modest compared to the Trumps etc., who are so apathetic about the
political process that they don't get involved. And one needn't even have
much money at all to expend time and energy getting people elected who've
had enough and want to even out the playing field. Volunteer for phone
banks. Tell people to vote. Intelligence the people who aren't aware of it
that their vote is more precious than anything tangible but for shelter,
food and clothing.
To my relief, I've had the privilege of meeting some
extraordinary people who're quite rich but give a damn about their fellow human
beings. I know a multi-millionaire who works for the United Nations who, due
to his deep commitment to keeping the environment clean, rides a bicycle to work
each day (even in the winter). He gives away six figures a year to organizations
like Greenpeace and other organizations who promote clean air, solar power and
the like. This guy's also been known to donate heavily to scholarship programs
for kids because he's disgusted with the way Federal money for education has
dried up over the years. This man has introduced me to other extremely wealthy
people who're involved in his causes.
There are many people who get angry at me when I say that
sending money overseas is ridiculous as long as there
are people who're suffering in the United States: children who're stuck in the
poorly-funded and even more poorly-staffed foster housing systems; adults who're mentally ill and can't help themselves,
who're homeless, not by choice but because we haven't enough facilities to
intervene on their behalf, while housing them safely in the meantime; the
working uninsured for whom regular healthcare is but a dream,
and who die sometimes because they must choose between proper healthcare and
putting food on the table. I could go on and on but I won't.
My wife complains that I tip
too much. She accuses me of doing it to "act like a big-shot." I know
how hard people work who depend upon tips. If a guy's freezing his ears off
outside and brings my car to me nice and warm I'm gonna tip him. The nice lady
who makes my coffee in the morning has two jobs and a kid. The father of the kid
left long ago. By day, Dunkin' Donuts, by night, she cleans offices. She once
told me that because I tip her what I do every day, she doesn't feel so bad
taking a cab the two miles from her evening workplace home, because she's so
tired and her feet hurt.
I've spoken to the housekeepers at hotels (many of whom are
surprised when a guest actually strikes up a conversation instead of just asking
for more towels). Their union wage is ridiculously low, and the work they do is
back-breaking, the chemicals the use are irritating, and their chores are
repetitive. And they have a quota of how many rooms to clean a day; regardless
of whether the guests were neat, tidy executives or a gathering of rock
guitarists who've wiped room-service food from carpet to ceiling in every room
on their side of the floor. I tip those people very nicely, because, frankly,
they do something I hate to do; housecleaning. That's why I pay to have
my house cleaned and my laundry done. I've done enough of it.
Now, I'll admit that I've been through my stages of ostentatious
behavior. Until very recently I drove a big, gas-guzzling American-made luxury
car. What a waste. Now we've got a Honda and two Toyotas; a Camry and a Sienna
minivan. That's all the metal I think I'll need right now. When I get passed on
the road by a Cadillac Escalade (a truck that I must admit I'd like to own, but
can't bring myself to) I think about the mother of my buddy Chris. Chris's dad
was a biggie on Wall Street. Chris attended one of Fairfield County,
Connecticut's finest private schools. Despite the fact that they had a mansion
with four persons in service, Chris's mom drove a little Nissan car into town
and back to attend the garden club parties and such. And when Chris's mom needed
some hay or supplies for their horses, she took the other family vehicle, an
enormous 1967 Chrysler station wagon that was more rust than anything else; but
I guess they had the local garage keep it in operating condition. Oh, did I
mention that Chris's mom and dad have a house in Italy and another in Vail?
In closing, I guess I could hurt someone by being rich,
if I got that way by trampling upon their back to do it. But I give away as much
as I can afford to, and when I whine about not being able to afford something
it's not "stuff," it's usually something that, absent winning the lottery, will
always be out of my reach (like a few thousand acres of unspoiled
wilderness in Vermont). Money, indeed, doesn't buy happiness. But charity and
giving does. And the ultimate form of charity is that which is given
anonymously, because that level of humility, that level of self-appreciation, is
wealth intangible and lasting, wealth far more than the monetary kind.