Born Poor and Grateful

On one of my recent playdates (translated ‘coffee and chat’ session), a friend was talking about being raised poor and not knowing it. His father, along with his Uncles, all worked at the Fire-stone Tire factory in Akron, Ohio.

It was a hard, honorable job but one that didn’t pay a lot, especially for a household of many children and a mother who didn’t work outside of the home. My friend’s situation was no different than the Irish, Polish, Black and Eastern Europe neighbors in his community. It simply was what it was.

My friend casually commented how he remembered having to put cereal box cardboard into his tennis shoes because he only got one pair of shoes for all summer. His parents couldn’t afford to send him to college but fortunately, he felt ‘the calling’ and went into the seminary instead. His brothers and sisters weren’t so lucky. They barely finished high school and went directly to work.

My own story of growing up poor has been chronicled in many blogs over the years. Again, it wasn’t something my friends and I were acutely aware of aside from the lack of a family car, summer vacations or material things around the house. Most of us started working at an early age and accepted that as ‘par for the course.’

Sharon grew up, doing chores at six years old, on the farm. If the bulk tank wasn’t cleaned twice a day, her dad couldn’t sell his milk as grade A and there wouldn’t be a milk check at the end of the month. She remembers growing up with no sink in the kitchen but a shiny new bulk tank instead in the barn.

I’ve told both my kids, that compared to some of our relatives, they were lucky to be born without a silver spoon lodged… as some of their cousins were. It made them more self-reliant and determined to forge their own path to adulthood.

This idea of growing up poor is a central theme in one of my first novels ‘Love in the A Shau.’ There are certain advantages of being ‘born hungry’ as Daniel likes to say. I didn’t have a choice growing up but I’m not sure I would have changed a thing even if I could have. I’ve learned over the years that ‘growing up hungry’ is not a bad thing.

The Harvesting of America

The business definition of harvesting is to break up a company for its component parts and sell them off one by one. The theory being that the parts are more valuable than the total entity. It was all the rage back in the seventies with Wall Street raiders and hedge fund mavens garnering daily headlines with their latest acquisitions and industry dismemberments.

Now unfortunately that same thing seems to be happening in America. This new metamorphosis of thinking hides under the guise of a pervasive old way of thought called nationalism. These are selfish goals among diverse groups bonded by their individual interests instead of focusing on the common good for all. Uncommon goals among nationalities and generations are neither a surprise nor unexpected. But it’s the unwillingness of these groups to understand and respect the views of others that constitutes the main problem. We no longer seem to be able to ‘listen’ to one another or be willing to give ‘them’ the benefit of the doubt. Sadly, to a degree, congress and our representatives often lead this chorus of righteous self-interest and a lack of concern for the common good.

Evidence is all around us. For example, there is greater disparity between the rich and the poor. It’s an income gap that continues to grow each year. From 2000 to 2014 the share of adults living in middle-income households fell in 203 of the 229 U.S. metropolitan areas examined in a new PEW Research Center analysis of government data. This decrease in the middle-class share was often substantial, measuring six percentage points or more in 53 metropolitan areas, compared with a 4-point drop nationally.*

This shrinking middle class only serves to widen that disparity between the haves and the have-nots. The economic engine that fueled a growing middle class is fast disappearing and its replacement is still struggling to find footing in a new economic model. Yet most economists will tell you that when the middle class grows, the rich and the poor both benefit; abet in different ways.

Unfortunately into that muddle of income disparity and thinly disguised class differences has fallen or deliberately been thrown all kinds of manufactured distractions. Events and distractions created solely to feed an audience with mindless thought processes like empty calories to feed the soul. Ratings rule even if common sense takes a step back in our rational thinking.

There is an almost irreverent attitude toward the news. The ‘Evening News’ on television is almost always bad news because that’s what attracts eyeballs. It’s a grab bag of breathless, exaggerated and over-caffeinated sound bites. Web reporting fares little better. There are simplistic bullet points, clickbait ads, provocative photos but little in the way of balanced reporting. Many sites have become slick mindless muddled pap for the masses.

Reporting directly from the coliseum are heightened headlines from professional sports. Football coverage now encompasses twelve months of mindless stats and exaggerated predictions for next weekend’s game. The goal here is to create tension and questions where vacuums used to suffice. National championships are hyped on the level of the second coming and/or the apocalypse. Media coverage of the entertainment world is even more inane. We worship J-lo and wonder if Jo-Jo will ever find true love.

The ‘silly season’ is back in full swing. It’s become a circus act of divisive politics which focuses only on self-interests and not the common good. It’s become a national embarrassment that few are willing to admit within and outside of our borders. This political season seems to be worse than many others in recent history.

Some religious groups are moving in the right direction seeking unity in Christian values. But too many are still exclusive, instead of being inclusive. These religious zealots claim God on their side as long as he (not she or in-between) is white, Christian and god-fearing…and not on welfare.  Everyone else need not apply.

Yet this isn’t our heritage. This isn’t the American way. We’ve certainly been sidetracked and distracted and gone off on tangents in the past but we’ve always come back to our common goals and aspirations.

My mother with her parents

This country has a long history of immigration, religious tolerance and inclusiveness. It’s not been without its distractors or hiccups along the way. It’s never been without its flaws, major and minor, but it still works even after two hundred plus years.

We need to find common ground for issues to agree upon or at least learn to disagree with one another in a respectful manner. We need to use common sense and not be afraid to compromise. But most importantly we need a shared vision for what this country stands for and what those who came before us worked for, died for and wanted for future generations.

I want better for my kids and grandkids. I’ve always said that I want them to be citizens of the world. I want them to be accepting, tolerant and grateful for their many blessings. I expect them to be willing to help the needy and less fortunate. I would not…I will not… accept anything less of them.

That’s not how they were raised.

·         Pewsocialtrends.org

Debris

It came to me one warm winter evening as I walked up Palm Canyon Drive and passed the Greyhound bus stop. An odd assortment of student travelers, elderly passengers and numerous transients were lined up on the street waiting for the bus to arrive. In a flash the phrase ‘Debris from the West Coast’ popped into my head. It stuck there even as I passed the motley-looking crowd and continued on.

Almost immediately a story began to percolate up from my subconscious. I thought about the woman at a consignment store weeks earlier who had announced to her volunteer partner that she was in Palm Springs because that was as far as her bus ticket would take her. I remembered the beautiful woman at Starbucks who claimed to have just arrived from India, having bypassed L.A. and who was looking for work. She hinted that she was as good with her brains as she was on her back. I politely declined to offer any suggestions for her future employment. I thought about the transients who camped out in the desert and only came into town at night to scrounge through the dumpsters. I thought about the oldsters who moved in their cheap trailers to live out the rest of their sad lives.

Then I thought about the Palm Springs neighborhoods where most of the homes have their own shimmering blue pool and many are surrounded by lush golf courses. Palm Springs was the perfect setting for two totally different worlds; rich and poor, cultured and illiterate, ambitious and arrived.

That story idea became a treatment. That treatment then became a rough draft. The rough draft, after five rewrites, became ’Debris.’ My novel became a microcosm of various relationships set in Palm Springs.  Palm Springs was the perfect setting for such a story. It’s your average surreal environment disguised as a resort community, vacation hotspot and the newest hipster’s haven. It’s probably no different than other resort communities like Key West, Las Vegas, Los Cabos or Aspen.

In short, it’s the perfect place for a collision of lives subtly hidden by crystal clear skies, shimmering pools of blue and warm seductive nights. ‘Debris’ is a Roman coliseum of broken individuals each at various points of conflict in their lives and almost all of them seeking some kind of redemption.

Millie is the aging movie star whom time and Hollywood have long since abandoned. She is an icon for all that was the glory and power of old Hollywood. But she is lost in the new Palm Springs.

Juliet is in the desert to find another man to fill out her tepid life. A chance encounter with Natalie, her new boss at the real estate firm, now elicits emotions long since buried beneath her puritanical upbringing and societies standards.

Brett & Payton seem the perfect couple newly ensconced in Palm Springs’ growing design industry until a chance encounter with Kevin threatens the stability of their relationship.

Robert is the half-Mexican kid scrambling to grab a foothold in the construction trade while he fantasizes about a better life. Opportunities and pitfalls await his every step.

Miranda is the troubled young woman who gave Robert a start but now faces her own avalanching doubts about a future in the valley.

The Indian Kid wants desperately to break out of his tribal constraints while still respecting his elder’s traditions.

Other characters keep piling up. Each is an footnote or a chapter liner without whom the main characters couldn’t function or evolve.

The Goldsteins who lost a son in Afghanistan and now grapple with finding meaning in their lives.

Tom Thornton whose eye for Juliet doesn’t rise above her waist and who must deal with a sordid past that is fast catching up to him.

Franee who has it all in money and power and beauty. All except the one thing she wants to control…Robert.

In its original form, Debris was too big as a print book (over 600 pages) and even larger as an e-book (more than 1500 pages.)  For an unknown author such as myself, a book of that size can be a very hard sell. So it was suggested that the original story be broken into two stories and a third added to form a trilogy.

                

           

Vida, my Jill of all Trades, has helped me break down the original draft into two separate stories. A third treatment written after the original ‘Debris’ and originally entitled ‘Tahquitz Dawn’ is now the basis for book three of the Debris series.

It will be a challenging and somewhat monumental task to rewrite books one and two and create an entirely new book three. But I think I’m up to the task. If for no other reason than my love of Palm Springs and the creative juices that flow there.

Once immersed in that task, I’ll be able to go back to old Palm Springs and relive the glory and glamor and sordid ‘tales of the city.’ I’ll journey with Robert as he struggles to carve out a place for himself among the rich and infamous. I’ll explore the strained relationship of Brett and Payton and get close to Juliet as she questions her own sexuality. I’ll peek into the lives of other characters that appear and then fade in and out of various chapters.

It’s going to be one heck of a journey. But with the San Jacinto Mountains looking over my shoulder, I’ll feel like I’ve come home again.