Bassackwards

See, here's how it is: This jewelry fetish is more than just being about baubles. Yeah, there's the immediate attraction and delight over something sparkly and shiny. But there are more complicated things that go with it. First of all, I'm still shocked that I even have the where-with-all (is that even a word??) to buy baubles. It wasn't all *that* long ago that I was living off of Mickey D's food taken home from closing the restaurant, and stocking up on Ramen noodles when they were 10 for $1.00. Or living up at the Soo during one summer between freshman and sophomore years thinking how good it was I could afford to buy rhubarb at 15 cents a pound, and be able to make something to eat with that. I could pick up enought pop cans and dropped change to buy a trainload of rhubarb! By no means have I ever lived in poverty, and of course there was always the safety net of parents at home. But I think I might have lived on the street before getting mom involved in borrowing or heaven forbid, asking for money. Thank God dad had a level head about money and didn't turn it into an emotional subject. Jeez, I can still hear the wails of 'We're not gonna make it to pay day!!' or the one year where there was the grim forecast we wouldn't be able to afford a Christmas tree. These are now inside jokes with Tim and I, but I shudder to think of the days where these statements were actually uttered. Not that they were in any way close to being reality, oh no. Just the fact that feelings about money could be so distorted and tied up with security and emotion.

Anyway, as I predicted many months ago when I started collecting gemstone baubles, mom has heaped praise upon this new behavior. Pretty typical. Anything I have ever done that was a girly thing to do has received high praise from her. Getting a college scholarship, completing college, getting a job in a technical/science field, troubleshooting instruments that cost more than our house, having a halfway decent sense of direction when traveling...all that stuff was/is seemingly below her radar.

So of course yesterday during our big shopping day to Eastern Market and the Detroit area, she admired my new chocolate diamond ring, and told me again how wonderful it was that I was buying these nice things and 'doing this for myself'. Huh. *scratches head* Seems to me for the first 22 or so years of my life, I heard this broken record blaring 'You never think of anyone but yourself!' So now that I've passed some magic year of my life, thinking of myself is suddenly OK? Isn't that what toddlers, kids, teenagers, and young people do best?? Think of themselves? It took me until I was well into my thirties to realize that usually the times we heard that statement was when we hadn't thought of HER. Sure woulda been nice to have a little adult guidance when it came to the real nitty-gritty of thinking of others when growing up. Woulda been nice too, to have a little more adult guidance during the rough times of life growing up where all I could do was think of myself.

So now that I'm in my 40's where I have time, money, and I sure hope to hell the wisdom to see what needs to be done and do something about it, when I have the resources to think about other people and put others first, NOW is when it's okay to think of myself?? But when I was a kid or teenager with no money, little experience, and no shining examples that I can remember, I got yelled at repeatedly, and usually after the fact, when I didn't do whatever for someone else; or did something for myself that I saw as being of no consequence to anyone else.

Hell, maybe there was a lot right in front of my face that I didn't see then, and maybe I'm blind to a lot of stuff now, but it really does seem backasswards. Then, too, as we're driving through these areas of Detroit yesterday where the wild shrubs and grass and vines are growing rampant over these gutted-out former mansions, people pushing shopping carts down sidewalks, and other downtrodden-looking residents hanging out in front of graffiti-splashed walls, it becomes painfully obvious just how fortunate we are. We're overfed suburb-dwelling shoppers just passing through. Breathe easy now, everyone, we're on the north side of 8-Mile now! *phew!* These people probably don't even have money to buy a decent meal to eat, and we have disposable income to hose around on jewelry, food, wine, whatever we want.

So what should I do about it? Well, since I quit the Food Bank last week, I guess I'd better figure out something to do with my time, for someone, somewhere. It really was time for a change with that, I know. After 5 1/2 years, and watching a local place turn into a corporate institution, pretty much all the satisfaction of going there every frigging Tuesday morning was gone. I didn't totally shut the door, I told Erica that if they needed help one day, or around the holidays they could call me. That was partially to alleviate the guilt. There wasn't much, but it was still there.

If I keep my eyes and ears open, some volunteer opportunity will turn up in the area. Hell, what we could do right now for the immediate present is make a donation to the Red Cross and direct it toward Florida hurricane residents. What a raw deal they've gotten, and they're looking down the barrel of another gun right now, in the form of Hurricane Ivan.

No more baubles, I swear! I can stop any time I want. Yes, of course I can. I'm absolutely certain I can make it until Christmas and beyond without any new ones...