No Money

We had no money, my friends and I, back in the middle-1970's.  Not Mitt Romney no money, where Dad and his gazillions were just a phone call away.  I'm talking graduate school, work three jobs, share the newspaper, no money. Our cars were old and our apartments, older still.  We had parents, but they were busy keeping roofs over their own heads.  We were on our own and we knew it. 

We were lucky to be living in Chicago, a mecca for no-cover blues bars on Halsted Street, where Buddy Guy and Junior Wells and their friends amazed us for the price of a few beers. We splurged when The Grateful Dead came to town, it's true, but for the most part our entertainment happened away from the bright lights and the glamor of downtown.

If we went downtown, it had to be opening night of a movie.  We stood in line for the late show of Robert Altman's Nashville, chilly, 37 years ago last weekend according to IMDB.  The faces on those who were leaving were glum.  Heads were shaking.  Then, there was a pause.  No one came out of the theater. Five minutes later, laughter and singing and bopping of heads marked the departure of the rest of the audience.... those who had stayed through the credits.

It was a seminal moment for me, an epiphany, an out-loud-AH-HAH which startled my friends.  As Ken Kesey wrote, you're either on the bus or you're off the bus. It was clear which side we were on.  As we joined the real fans in smiling and accepting their "You are going to love it!" grins we also let out small sighs of relief.

This was an expensive outing.  We were glad that it was going to be worth the price of admission.  We didn't go downtown that often.

mytypewriter.com

We didn't eat on ironing boards, as Ann Romney told us she and Mitt did.  We were classy enough to invest in tables and chairs, though, truth be told, living alone as we did, we ate mostly on our laps in front of the television.  The tables held our typewriters, big, electric things that required an outlet and a sturdy place to rest. 

I'm wondering where Mitt kept his typewriter?  We're of roughly the same vintage and I think it's a fair question to ask.  Did he have a desk, perhaps? I'm enjoying the image: how delightfully selfish of him. His work required the proper equipment while Ann, making a home for him, could get along with serving her dinners on the ironing board. 

Better yet, did he pay someone to type for him?

You see, Mitt, there's having no money and there's having no money.  I heard you talking about your missionary work in Paris.  It was 1968 and the streets of Paris were burning... literally, for those of you young enough to look at my life as history.  Mitt was promoted to co-president of the mission and, by all accounts, he did a fine job. But he can't say that he did it on no money. 

He can't say that he raised the funds he needed all by himself.  He can't because (once again) he's a little bit fast and loose with the truth.  Another missionary was interviewed and said that times were tough because basic services were cut.  Not only was there no bus service, not only was the telephone unreliable (it ran on real lines, children, and the device needed to be attached to the wall), but the postal service was mostly absent.  That meant that they couldn't get their checks from home. 

Checks from home .... that's not no money, Mitt, that's being apart from your money. 

Having a safety net is a gift TBG and I were able to give the Cuters. As Big Cuter said last weekend, he was born on third and he's not unhappy about that.  He knows that others have not been as fortunate. He knows that he had nothing to do with the circumstances of his birth (that's awkward, but I think you know what I mean) but he would be foolish to disavow the opportunities those circumstances created. 

He's not trying to pass himself off as someone he's not.  He will carve his own path in the world, all the while knowing that his parents have the means to catch him should he fall. 

That's the same gift that George and Lenore Romney were able to give to their children, too.  It's a wonderful thing to do.  It warms the cockles of a parent's heart.  As I've always said, I married well... a social worker would have a hard time saying the same thing. 

Business guys - TBG and Mitt - they have the big bucks thrown at them.  Not that they don't work hard.  They do. TBG spent 20 years going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark.  His mind was always racing; it was being paid to race.  He was holding the fortunes of others in his hands and he took the responsibility seriously.  He was training and teaching a new generation and he knew that it had to be done well.... done right... without cutting corners or leaving loose ends.

I'm sure Mitt felt the same thing.

The difference is that TBG and I lived with no money.  We borrowed $800 from my grandmother so that we could put down a security deposit on an apartment so TBG could go to work for Goldman, Sachs..... back when that was a good thing.... a prestigious thing... before the traders got hold of it..... but that's another post.

Without that $800, borrowed from a woman who despised TBG's non-Jewish heritage, we'd have been stuck.  Our own parents had been asked for the last drop of help they could manage.  We had a new used car (thank you, Nannie and Grandpaw) as a wedding gift.  Daddooooo was, once again, unemployed and G'ma's school district salary didn't stretch beyond dinners and the mortgage.  Yes, Mitt, we asked our parents and they helped as much as they could. I was lucky my grandmother could float us a loan, a loan we paid back from the lots and lots of money we had from Goldman Sachs.

Not everyone is lucky enough to marry well or land a job paying lots and lots of money.  Not everyone is lucky enough to be born to parents who managed that trick.  Mitt Romney's problem is that he can't imagine a world where that is so. 

$10,000 is not an amount of money I'd bet on anything at all..... $250,000 is not middle-class. there's no money and then there's no money.

I'm betting that America knows the difference.  I know that I do.

G'ma is fond of quoting Sophie Tucker, a Jewish comedienne of her generation.  Rich or poor, it's good to have money is the line that epitomizes my mother for me.  I think her interpretation of it is slightly different from that which Mitt Romney might deduce.

He's just never had to get on the bus.... and you're either on it or you're not.