Relative, Absolute, Both

Nan Reinhardt and me at Whyte Horse Winery, Monticello, IN

My friend Nan and I were talking about poverty this week. Not the poverty that is a primary concern in the country now, but the poverty we both knew. Long after the Great Depression, but well before the use of social programs became even semi-acceptable.

What started the conversation, not that she and I ever need anything to start our conversations, was her saying she didn’t really bargain shop in the grocery store anymore and me saying I still did. It went on with me saying I really liked cheap cheese and she said she liked Tillamook. We agreed, though, that Aldi had our favorite cheeses of all, and she joined me in mourning the store’s departure from Peru.

We continued with talking about cleaning our plates. (Are we not the most inspiring conversationalists you’ve ever heard off?) She never had to as a kid--although her unfinished food would go into the fridge in case she was hungry later--whereas it was never a question at our house. If it was on your plate, you ate it right then at the meal, and you became very, very careful of what you put on your plate. Decades later, she and I are pretty much the same as we were then. She rarely cleans her plate; I almost always do.

While I admit to not always finishing restaurant servings because they’re often too big, or of taking the leftovers home because they don’t always reheat well, if it’s on my plate, I generally eat it.

I use house brands a lot--although not if their quality doesn’t hold up--buy tons of stuff at Dollar Tree, and will cheerfully drive across town to save a nickel a gallon on gas. I don’t buy clothes until I’ve checked out the offerings on the clearance racks. The idea of paying full price for anything makes me cringe. Signs urging me to buy one, get one free are clarion calls to my thrift.

I wore my Crocs flip-flops until they were so slick I fell flat on wet cement when I was wearing them. I still haven’t thrown them away. Surely someone could wear them. They’re not that dangerous, are they?

Because waste, in the kind of poorness I remember, should be near the top of the Deadly Sins list.

Nan and I have different views of poverty because we knew different kinds of it. Even when I try to pinpoint those differences, I can’t come up with a good explanation. Habitat for Humanity comes close. “Absolute Poverty is used to describe a condition where an individual does not have the financial means to obtain commodities to sustain life. Relative Poverty refers to the standard of living compared to economic standards of living within the same surroundings.”

Neither of us knew absolute. But there are many kinds of relative, too, and they can be like comparing a wicked uncle with a grumpy older sister. Just not the same.

The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” — Matthew 25:40

I have read over and over again where people have said they “didn’t know we we were poor.” I’m not sure how that happens. I’m not sure I fully believe it does. There’s always someone or something there to remind people of their financial status. I remember when students with reduced or free lunches were set apart from ones who paid the full price. Even now, people are insistent that food stamps shouldn’t be used to purchase soda or candy. Does someone stand there and toss things off the eligible list because they might be fun?

I have no solutions. Not one. I don’t know any answers, although I think part of the key is the government. Our representatives from all sides and in all levels of power are shameful wasters.

“If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.” — John F. Kennedy

I pulled the trash bag in my office this morning because it was nearly full, and I replaced it with a sack from T.J. Maxx. The sack was the right size, cutting its handles when it’s full makes it easy to tie off, and it’ll make my box of trash bags last a week or so longer.

Is that cheap? If it is, I’m okay with that. Do I think learning thrifty things to do is a gain from growing up poor? Maybe. Do I think it was worth it? Nope. Poverty doesn’t come with positives, no matter what kind it is.

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody.