This weekend I took a truckload of my mother’s junk to the Falmouth town dump. Inside the gate is a Quonset hut with a sign saying “Pick of the Litter.” You can leave stuff that has a second life there. I had a bunch of plastic bins, a kid’s rocking chair, and a stag head whose taxidermy had come apart at the seams. Also two cots. As I came up, a woman came over to ask for the rocking chair. Then a guy wanted the deer head. Said he’d never shot a buck. I saw a few families standing near the hut, waiting to land on the cots. But shy, ashamed.
I didn’t see any signs of want, hanging out in the scientific community my parents go to. People seemed to be leading their good lives, undisturbed. Driving out of town I saw a line of SUVs trying to get in.
I know the gas prices are kicking a lot of people in the behind. And I don’t like filling my heating oil tank for $1000 a pop, I’m going to keep the heat down even more this winter. My grocery bills are way high. But I sense the atmosphere of hard times more than I experience it personally; I have to admit I’m not that hurt by the gas prices. I’m not one of the people they do stories about on television. And I didn’t see any of those people on my vacation, till I got to Pick of the Litter. My wife’s good friend is in France right now, I’m planning a trip to the Mid East.
What’s the point? I sense that the big gulf between globalized rich and poor in our society is playing itself out in this economic crisis. The bad times are hurting the middle class, such as it is, the working class, on down. But a lot of people aren’t deeply affected–including most corporate journalists. I wish the networks would report on that. Who’s not getting hurt? How big is this class of which I’m a part? And isn’t it Obama’s base?
