Be Not Idle

On St. Stephen’s Day, I tend toward introspection. It’s natural; nearly everyone has gone home, and there’s a relaxed (some might say exhausted) atmosphere. I imagine that between Christmas and December 30th, many people write their New Year’s resolutions.

And then the end-of-year bank statements and tax documents come… There’s some miserable introspection, right there.

But the one thing that can be counted on, at least in my family, is that people are civil enough not to write each other’s resolutions. So Uncle Luigi won’t be handing a copy of The Midwestern Beach Eating Regimen  to Aunt Vanna. And Cousin Vita won’t be giving her daughter Lucia the phone number of a very good divorce attorney.

So I understand the bee in the Anchoress’s bonnet over a column by Jamie Lee Curtis. The American actress writes that the current financial crisis will “bring us into financial alignment. Families may have to live together again! What a concept. (…) Neighbors are going to meal share and carpool and child care for each other and maybe even rent out parts of homes to other families. Less meat, more beans. Might be better for you anyway.”

I don’t know what is worse: that Ms. Curtis wrote a column with three references to fiction and very little about economic reality, or that 30% of the piece was written by John Steinbeck. (What a hard-working dead man!)

I admit I chuckled and shook my head over her idyllic views of living with others and “more walking, more park time, more family outdoor time.” My mother and her siblings were Depression babies who grew up with family outdoor time chores on the farm (and going almost everywhere on foot).  

As for living with relatives, that is a good situation if there is work nearby. From 1987 to 1999, I shared quarters with various friends and relatives. My apartment in Warren, MI was practically a flophouse for people who were working but “between rents”, as we politely say. And that was nothing compared to the neighbors: a family of 4 across the hall, 6 people next-door, and 7 in the apartment kitty-corner.  

I currently live by myself in a so-called “bedroom community”, which means housing is affordable but people have to commute to where the jobs are.  No family member in his right mind would consider my town a good place to look for work.

People bike and walk around here, even in sub-zero weather, because that’s the cheapest way to go. If I lost my car, I could walk to work, to the grocery store, etc. Walking about 35 miles a week would be good for me, no doubt. 

But neither Ms. Curtis nor I would like to be a pedestrian in places I’ve lived. When a hit-and-run driver wrecked my car in 1998, I walked a lot - which meant some %&*$ was always pulling over to “offer me a ride” (mostly in the Irish sense). I wasn’t even safe on my way to church. Evidentally nothing screams “woman of easy virtue” more than a modest dress and sensible shoes worn at 9 am.

And walking in a ”nice” park – ha! One of my friends and I discovered that office workers used the parks for a little “afternoon delight” during their lunches. Any female from 8 to 80 had to be prepared for a john who didn’t know (or care about) the difference between a pedestrian and a prostitute.   

You can check out more brouhaha at Dirty Harry’s Place, which will also get you to the original piece.

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