She rarely speaks, usually nodding her head and smiling. This morning she talked to me, loading my weekly groceries into the trunk. Her English is poor, but comprehensible. She looked troubled.
My Neighbor, Myself
She has been working as a bagger at my local supermarket for 10 years. She is a single mother, mid-thirties. Her schedule has been cut to two days a week. Best I could tell, a cost savings measure. She cannot survive on her minimum wage job only two days a week. She cannot feed her child and herself on that.
Her take home pay is less than what I spend on one week’s groceries.
We stood at my car and she talked. I listened. I asked questions. I offered suggestions; none will work given where she lives and the cost of her childcare. She said thank you and went back inside. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Reach Out with a Voice or a Hand
I don’t know why she chose to speak today except perhaps that she couldn’t hold it in, that I am a kind face she has seen for years – or a tired one. My face, tired like her own.
Perhaps the desperation is too great. The need for a small miracle, for its possibility if she dares to reach out.
And I understand.
I reach out daily, and you help. I wish to help someone else, in turn.
My World, Today
The results of my morning at the supermarket:
- The price of packaged deli meats I buy each week went up a full dollar, from $4.00 to $5.00. That is a 20% increase, in the past six days.
- The price of a number of items I routinely purchase is up – 10% or more – and I am an attentive and disciplined shopper when it comes to buying food on a budget.
- My overall total: roughly 10% more on my food bill.
I will have to make up for that somewhere. I don’t know where, or how. This isn’t the only item that is up; gas, obviously. Utilities, in general. Medical insurance, once again.
As for reports that the economy is improving, all I can note is the very real drama in one individual’s life for whom that isn’t the case. The bagger who needed to talk. My own little world in which it seems I cannot get ahead, no matter what I do.
Who am I kidding? It’s a matter of slowing the pace of falling behind. Living with the stress of debt and the hope of reducing it. Someday.
My Body, Myself
Going through the check-out line, the cashier asked if I was alright. He is a middle-aged man and he has known me for years as do most of the other baggers. When there is a new teenager working the line he explains to “go light” because of my arms and back. The car accident, a few years back.
Today, for whatever reason, I’m in more pain than usual. I must have winced reaching into the cart.
“Can’t the doctors help?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Been there, done that. Without more time and money, for now, no.”
I smiled and paid and said thank you. We must not talk about our pain. We must not talk about our troubles. And this morning I own my perspective and I am grateful, immeasurably grateful – for the project I have, for Motrin by my bed, for a heating pad to help me through the day.
For healthy children with food enough to eat.
My World, Our World
Yesterday I was struck by the increasing number of reports concerning the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station in Japan, and of course, the unsung heroes who may be sacrificing their lives to continue working inside the plant.
It’s hard to imagine that anyone isn’t following this piece of global news, as if the devastation of the earthquake and tsunami were not enough. And if you aren’t reading, you should.
Check out this recent article about the crisis and this, from yesterday, about the “faceless 50” who stayed trying to prevent it.
I am stilled by bravery of this magnitude. I am stilled by the possibilities of disaster of this magnitude.
History, and Not
I remember when the incident at Three Mile Island occurred – ironically, around the time of the release of The China Syndrome – a movie that deals with a nuclear incident. Likewise, I remember Chernobyl. And while I was nowhere near these locations at the time, and many of us are sitting far away from the site of the earthquake, the tsunami, and the immediacy of this looming disaster, we’d be crazy not to be sobered and silenced by it.
Even as some sources try to reassure us here in the U.S., shouldn’t we revisit our politics, our choices, our assumptions about our way of life?
From Where We Sit
It is easy to be complacent, to sit in our theoretically secure homes and jobs, our reasonably healthy bodies, our presumably stable relationships – and believe that the suffering of the world at large cannot and will not touch us in personal ways.
The “it can’t happen to me” syndrome.
It can. It will. It does.
The tragedy has consumed me. I have been unable to write because I feel that everything is so UN-noteworthy compared to what millions of people are dealing with in Japan right now.
I agree with you, Cathy. All the “lighthearted” or daily fare I typically write about feels unimportant. The magnitude of this tragedy – and what is still to deal with – is crushing. I want to help and feel helpless. I want us all to help, and put our own small troubles in perspective.
It is fascinating to me that we tend to live in a bubble, unwilling to recognize that yes, it does happen to us and it is happening to us. What is unfolding in Japan will have an impact on each of us at some point. It is as if we put on blinders and think that we are special; unwilling to acknowledge that we each are, in fact, connected in ways obvious and not so obvious… and our actions (as do others) do matter.
TE – Exactly. We are connected. How can we not reach out to each other?
Perhaps it is because of disasters around the world that we look more closely at our own communities. Just a few days ago I learned of a personal crisis that an acquaintance has been going through. My own daily and ongoing stresses and struggles pale in comparison. And yet. We are all in this together. We are part of the same community. Continent. World.
I agree, Jen. These disasters put things in perspective. But why does it take this to do so?
Perhaps it is easier to grasp helping each other one person at a time – as some of you reached out to me, and helped in very real and tangible ways. As I am racking my brain to figure out how I can help the woman at the market. As for our political choices – and a wider scale – that’s a whole other matter. Taking responsibility. Not putting our heads in the sand. Less complacency about our comforts. I don’t have answers, but not speaking is the same as not helping.
Amen. I keep hoping for more steadfast engagement from more people without having to wait for a disaster like this. I want to remain hopeful but the reality is most of us don’t wake up until there’s a natural disaster, and soon after, go right back on denying the realities we face.
I think it’s hardest when we know there’s little to nothing we can do. The pains of other people are much more palatable to us when we can alleviate them. But when our hands are tied (as was the case with your grocery bagger) that’s when we really want to look the other way. Our own comforts – no matter how meager – become most uncomfortable when we see how little other people have.
I agree, Gale – that sense of helplessness. But it’s often easy to accept “oh there’s nothing I can do” when in fact, there is often something that can be done – perhaps not what one thinks of at first, but helpful nonetheless. I seem to recall a very tedious task you undertook at one point – extraordinarily helpful. Offering to help and meaning it, and offering to be flexible in what that means – what a difference we each can make when we approach things in that way.
I wrote on this today. It felt right to think of perspective. Living in earthquake country and not knowing the potential risks for my area of the country in the event of a nuclear meltdown…scary. But it’s not about me.
We are NOT untouchable or invincible. We are all affected by personal (and even public) tragedies in one form or another. My prayer is that everyone will have enough of what is needed…vague but we all have different needs…and much of the time I feel helpless to help others so I lift it to what is higher than me. I wrote today about a homeless girl I saw this weekend…broke my heart.
How do we spend our money? Had to laugh/cry when I heard a secretary at work discussing how her daughter’s wedding was expected to total more than $30,000. Our Quaker wedding in 2005 (conceded by many, including Fran and me, to be the best wedding ever) came in under $2,000. About a third of that was for the meal (partly purchased, partly prepared by family and friends), about a third for the Quaker marriage certificate (hand crafted paper, lettering, framing…it hangs over our bed with the signatures of all 135 who were present), and the other third for other expenses and our honeymoon along the Appalachian Trail. A great time was had by all.
How lovely, Paul. Sounds like a wonderful event.
The tragedy has stilled my blogging fingers too. Nothing seems comparable to write about. Instead, I read each morning, so many hours behind the events as they unfold, and feel my heart sink with each setback in the battle.
I’ve been scanning as well, CT, every 4 hours or so. As you say, stilled by the setbacks, one after another. The enormity of it. Our hubris.
I haven’t written half of what I want to because I have been on fire, not literally but mentally/emotionally. I spent a little time blogging about some of it.
I know earthquakes. I have lived through several major ones. I have been evacuated from a forest fire and experienced the LA Riots firsthand.
Acts of God are much easier for me to understand than acts of men. What happened in Japan really is a perfect storm. If you understand the size of that earthquake and the tsunami serves as a testimonial to Japanese engineering of the nuclear reactors.
Granted they are in trouble, but the quake was simply enormous, a monster of biblical proportions.
My children and I have discussed this many times. It is a teaching moment. A chance to be thankful and a chance to give back.
How and why do we ignore the suffering around us or that is happening across the globe? Surely the reasons are complex but I think they boil down to we just can’t take in anymore. We are unable, or unwilling to open our heart and let someone elses pain in. We have enough of our own, right? Living it and seeing this reality in print is completely different. The behavior is now acknowledged and real and it has me reconsidering my position on my own behavior. Why do I ignore those who are begging on the corner every single day? I think I could easily be overwhelmed. I don’t really have much to give though I consider myself a giving person. If I stopped to give once, what would I give? Wouldn’t I have to keep giving? I do feel uncomfortable giving money because you just don’t know what their story is. Should it matter though? I don’t know. Obviously, they are down and out or they wouldn’t be standing there on the freeway exit for hours day after day. Should it matter if they are spending the money on booze or food? This debate adds to the complexity of whetheror not I should just do something. Oh, it’s just so complicated. Or is it?
Thanks for the thought provoking post today. Michele
I’ve felt the sense of somberness as I look at the events in Japan. My cousin lives 150 miles from the epicenter and she and her husband made the decision to leave their home of 15 years to return to India. I can’t imagine the devastation the people of Japan must be feeling. It is simply overwhelming.