I used to be poor. And I mean dirt poor: Wondering where my next meal was coming from, wearing clothes until they were falling apart, and living in slumlord housing with leaking pipes and faulty wiring. I have used food banks before, and I even went to a food line for poor and homeless people a couple of times, because there were a few nights I could not sleep because my stomach was empty and I had no money and no food.
It’s hard to sleep when your stomach is cramping up because you haven’t eaten anything all day.
Some people have had it or have it worse. I’ve never spare changed on the street, (Except once for fun just to see what it was like, after which I gave my sparse amount collected change to one of the homeless panhandlers when I was done,) I’ve never sold blood or plasma for money, I never parted with any of my LPs no matter how desperate I got, and I never went as far as shoplifting, though I did participate in some questionable maneuvers in order to acquire such things as foodstuffs, such as mislabelling a bulk food item with a cheaper version of whatever it was I was buying at the time. And most importantly, I’ve never been truly homeless. I’ve always had some place to stay, even if it meant crashing with friends or family. I was never forced to sleep outside or got to a homeless shelter, though I can easily imagine what that would be like.
I do not suffer any of those trials right now. I live in a nice house and I have a decent income. (Even though I lost out on a good chunk of income this year because of Covid-19.) I buy the food I want, and I have nice new clothes to wear.
But the memory and experience of poverty still hangs over me. Call it body memories, call it PTSD, call it what you will. I will be more attracted to the regular mushrooms because they’re slightly cheaper than the organic mushrooms. I might balk at buying a piece of new clothing if I think they’re charging too much for it, and I hate to waste food. I try to make sure that everything I buy gets consumed at some point or another. I also try to take everything as far as I can. To wit: This nearly-finished bottle of olive oil, of which I am trying to extract as much olive oil from it as possible before putting the bottle in the recycling.
Must use up allof the olive oil!
Even though I can afford to buy new clothes I have trouble throwing clothes out. Back in my poverty days I would literally wear clothes until they were basically or totally unwearable. I learned how to sew by hand because I was always repairing rips and tears in jeans and jackets, trying to make them last as long as possible. A few times I put cardboard in my shoes when I had finally worn small holes in the soles, because when you’re really poor you tend to do a lot of walking to save bus fare and subway money, and shoes wear out faster than any other piece of clothing when you have limited means.
It’s hard for me to let go of clothes. Maybe this t-shirt is a little faded, and maybe those socks are a little worn, but the desire to hang onto them always pulls at me. The urge to get as much mileage out of something is a proclivity that has been indelibly ingrained on me. I have gotten better at getting rid of worn clothes however, even though it’s contrary to my instincts. There are some articles of clothing I hang onto for nostalgic reasons, and I almost never throw out my running shirts. They are my trophies!
With food I try to make sure nothing gets wasted, even though I can afford good food now. I will cook and eat those veggie sausages because if I don’t use them soon they will go bad. And I hang onto slightly bruised bananas because they were meant to be eaten, not composted before their time. Sure, there might be one or two inedible sections, but I will try and eat as much of it as possible.
My old habits are also spurred on by events. I am a website consultant and a web application engineer, but I also work for the Oakland A’s during Major League baseball season selling tickets. This year I have gotten no ticket selling work from the Oakland A’s because of the Covid-19 pandemic. The Oakland A’s are playing games, but without fans. And without fans myself and hundreds of other A’s employees have been denied a significant chunk of change.
It’s not as bad for me as it is for many of my coworkers. Many of my fellow A’s employees rely on sports and arena events for their living. I have income outside of the Oakland A’s, so I’m fortunate. But the specter of becoming destitute, of losing my jobs and being denied income and being thrown back into poverty is a very stark thing with me. I do not currently have a rock solid forty hour a week job with a steady income and benefits. I do a lot of hustling for the website consulting and contract work that I do get. My economic circumstances could easily become precarious yet again.
So yeah, I will buy green bell peppers rather than my beloved red bell peppers because they’re cheaper. I will hang onto that old punk shirt even though it has become faded to the point where I rarely wear it out anymore. And yeah, I’ll continue to be frugal and save money and try my best to stave off my worst nightmare.
Because honestly, I sometimes convince myself that I would rather die than go back to living like that. Living life on the edge is just too much.
