There’s a tree growing in my driveway. That’s right. This is not a misprint. A sapling of some kind has attempted to take root in the harshest, most unfruitful environment imaginable: my driveway. Mind you, it’s not asphalt or concrete, but it is nonetheless the absolute least fertile ground to be found in a quarter acre in any direction. Yet, it is here that this wannabe tree has elected to stand it’s ground and pass on it‘s seed.
At first, I regarded it with a sneer, as my mower’s blades remorselessly cut it down. But, it returned - mowing after mowing, week after week - as if mocking me. A dry spell of some weeks could not dissuade it; constant trampling by neighbors, cats, dogs, squirrels, and mailmen would not snuff out it’s life. It was a determined little sapling.
It reminded me of a time when I found myself in a situation I could not envision a way out of. (Insert apology for ending a sentence with a proposition here.) I remember thinking that I was probably one of those people who didn’t know when they were whipped. I had the white flag ready, but I couldn’t find an enemy to wave it in front of. (See previous apology.) I was down for the count (insert boxing movie cliché here); I was a day late, and a dollar short (insert film noir gumshoe detective movie cliché here).
But in time, a door opened which I had not been able to see previously, and I stepped through. In time, the smoke cleared, the fog lifted (insert climactic, arpeggiated music swelling here), and I could see my destiny.
So, I took pity on the misguided sapling. I carefully uprooted, and re-planted it in more suitable environment, where it had a fighting chance to realize it’s destiny and become a tree. I opened a door for this brave little soldier. I tilted the odds in it‘s favor (insert gambling movie cliché here).
The little sapling and I have a one thing in common: we do what we do because it’s ingrained in us. It is to strive to survive. If only long enough to pass on our seed.
It’s ingrained in us.
(Update: The sapling didn’t make it. I don’t know what happened. Sorry.)
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
The New Middle Class
In today’s “good news, bad news” category, it appears the American middle class is going the way of the Oldsmobile.
(It’s a car. And, they don’t make them anymore.)
A government “think tank” recently concluded that if the recession lasts another five years, the middle class as we know it could disappear. They then concluded that they had come to a conclusion, and adjourned to dine at a grossly overpriced Georgetown restaurant, where they ran up a whopping $79,400 lunch tab. During which, the thought occurred to some of them that most of these people - whose fates the bureaucrats had stopped pretending to care about somewhere between the martinis and the smoked salmon appetizers - voted.
So, the think-tankers had to come up with a better solution. Which they did. They decided they could - and this was sheer genius on their part - they could simply create a new middle class to replace the one that’s about to melt away to nothingness like ice cream on a hot sidewalk.
Isn’t that good news! A second chance at middle class, I think they’re going to call it. And, I’ve made it easy for you to determine if you’re already a member of the New Middle Class:
Old: You have a late model SUV in the driveway
New: You live in a late model SUV
Old: You often attend fund-raisers for the less fortunate
New: You are the less fortunate
Old: You dine at five star restaurants on special occasions
New: You occasionally panhandle at five star restaurants
Old: You put big tag items on your credit card
New: You can’t remember the last time you saw a credit card
Old: You’re disappointed when your child’s soccer game is rained out
New: You strip down to your underwear, soap up, and take an open-air shower on the soccer field
Old: You’re thinking about adding a Florida room to your house
New: You’re thinking about adding an orange crate to the “Cardboard Condo”
Old: You’re climbing the corporate ladder
New: You’re climbing a ladder someone left against the side of their house to see what’s in the upstairs bedrooms
Old: You get your clothes at upscale mall clothing stores
New: You get your clothes at the Soap N’ Suds when the person goes to get more quarters
Old: You can’t decide between large-cap international or exchange-traded mutual funds
New: You can’t decide between a day old loaf of bread or a couple cans of Vienna sausages
There, wasn’t that easy! So, the next time someone asks you if you’re middle class, you can pull your tattered, flea infested coat tightly around you, push your matted, greasy hair back, look at them through glassy, bloodshot eyes and say, “Yes, I am the new American middle class. Spare a couple bucks?”
(It’s a car. And, they don’t make them anymore.)
A government “think tank” recently concluded that if the recession lasts another five years, the middle class as we know it could disappear. They then concluded that they had come to a conclusion, and adjourned to dine at a grossly overpriced Georgetown restaurant, where they ran up a whopping $79,400 lunch tab. During which, the thought occurred to some of them that most of these people - whose fates the bureaucrats had stopped pretending to care about somewhere between the martinis and the smoked salmon appetizers - voted.
So, the think-tankers had to come up with a better solution. Which they did. They decided they could - and this was sheer genius on their part - they could simply create a new middle class to replace the one that’s about to melt away to nothingness like ice cream on a hot sidewalk.
Isn’t that good news! A second chance at middle class, I think they’re going to call it. And, I’ve made it easy for you to determine if you’re already a member of the New Middle Class:
Old: You have a late model SUV in the driveway
New: You live in a late model SUV
Old: You often attend fund-raisers for the less fortunate
New: You are the less fortunate
Old: You dine at five star restaurants on special occasions
New: You occasionally panhandle at five star restaurants
Old: You put big tag items on your credit card
New: You can’t remember the last time you saw a credit card
Old: You’re disappointed when your child’s soccer game is rained out
New: You strip down to your underwear, soap up, and take an open-air shower on the soccer field
Old: You’re thinking about adding a Florida room to your house
New: You’re thinking about adding an orange crate to the “Cardboard Condo”
Old: You’re climbing the corporate ladder
New: You’re climbing a ladder someone left against the side of their house to see what’s in the upstairs bedrooms
Old: You get your clothes at upscale mall clothing stores
New: You get your clothes at the Soap N’ Suds when the person goes to get more quarters
Old: You can’t decide between large-cap international or exchange-traded mutual funds
New: You can’t decide between a day old loaf of bread or a couple cans of Vienna sausages
There, wasn’t that easy! So, the next time someone asks you if you’re middle class, you can pull your tattered, flea infested coat tightly around you, push your matted, greasy hair back, look at them through glassy, bloodshot eyes and say, “Yes, I am the new American middle class. Spare a couple bucks?”
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