Moneymoneymoney.
A woman in my town has had her house sold at a sheriff's sale. Today I was going to help pack her up. It has been a several yearlong spiral for her involving a divorce, some crippling kind of depression, an inability to cope, and now, it seems a state of mental paralysis. She knows that if we don't pack her up, a week or so from now, the sheriff will evict her and her stuff will be thrown into the yard in garbage bags. Yet, she cancelled this morning. And she's cancelled other times. She's resisting this move from her very own house to public housing. I don't blame her, yet somehow it must be faced.
I'm on a committee that has a budget for outreach to those in need. This money is used to help families after they've exhausted the other relief agencies in town. In the past week, I've run through one-quarter of my budget for the calendar year. Rent, rent, dentist bills, and more rent. And the calls keep coming. It's January 24th, for Christ's sake. I've been doing this for four years now and I've never seen it like this.
My realtor friend called me last night to discuss the work of this committee. In my tiny town, there are more than a half dozen homes in foreclosure. Another friend last night confided she bought one of these homes. I had no clue the family, my former neighbors, were in financial straits.
In the library, Wednesday, in the community room, the recently closed and re-opened foundry is taking applications. All former employees must reapply. The room is teeming with people. I go into the library proper and am browsing when a man walks up to a woman. Can you believe it? He worked here 37 years and they're not hiring him back. Thirty seven years! This man started working at the foundry when I was four. I wonder, will he need our assistance next month?
An unexpected job offer has come to me outside the field of education. It would be a permanent position. I marvel that I can be so lucky in these times. I'm pondering the offer but still mulling over whether I stay in education--meaning a spring job search--or whether it's truly time to change. A great luxury, this--to be able to ponder.
What a downer blog entry. But this town is a microcosm. This is happening all over the place. What am I to do? Light my candles and get down on my knees? Write the president? Dispense the relief money and do nothing else? That's what I've been doing. Here I am, middle class white woman giving out financial band aids and doing nothing to address the root causes of this misery. God help us all.
A woman in my town has had her house sold at a sheriff's sale. Today I was going to help pack her up. It has been a several yearlong spiral for her involving a divorce, some crippling kind of depression, an inability to cope, and now, it seems a state of mental paralysis. She knows that if we don't pack her up, a week or so from now, the sheriff will evict her and her stuff will be thrown into the yard in garbage bags. Yet, she cancelled this morning. And she's cancelled other times. She's resisting this move from her very own house to public housing. I don't blame her, yet somehow it must be faced.
I'm on a committee that has a budget for outreach to those in need. This money is used to help families after they've exhausted the other relief agencies in town. In the past week, I've run through one-quarter of my budget for the calendar year. Rent, rent, dentist bills, and more rent. And the calls keep coming. It's January 24th, for Christ's sake. I've been doing this for four years now and I've never seen it like this.
My realtor friend called me last night to discuss the work of this committee. In my tiny town, there are more than a half dozen homes in foreclosure. Another friend last night confided she bought one of these homes. I had no clue the family, my former neighbors, were in financial straits.
In the library, Wednesday, in the community room, the recently closed and re-opened foundry is taking applications. All former employees must reapply. The room is teeming with people. I go into the library proper and am browsing when a man walks up to a woman. Can you believe it? He worked here 37 years and they're not hiring him back. Thirty seven years! This man started working at the foundry when I was four. I wonder, will he need our assistance next month?
An unexpected job offer has come to me outside the field of education. It would be a permanent position. I marvel that I can be so lucky in these times. I'm pondering the offer but still mulling over whether I stay in education--meaning a spring job search--or whether it's truly time to change. A great luxury, this--to be able to ponder.
What a downer blog entry. But this town is a microcosm. This is happening all over the place. What am I to do? Light my candles and get down on my knees? Write the president? Dispense the relief money and do nothing else? That's what I've been doing. Here I am, middle class white woman giving out financial band aids and doing nothing to address the root causes of this misery. God help us all.
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