October 09, 2007

Humanity's Wallet

As a child I would sometimes ask, "Mom, are we rich?"
"We're rich in love," my Mom would reply.

My friends used to tell me that my family was rich. It was curious that they could be so sure when I wasn't certain myself. These same friends also told me that our house was haunted. Since there were occasions when I could confidently say that it wasn't, it was difficult to know when to trust their authority.

It's not that we were poor. Our needs were always met. The only things we were 'in-want-of' were truly extras. None of us suffered because we shared a bike or a bedroom. Each of us was so creative, however, we put on some good displays of suffering!

As I grew up, I better understood the elements of being rich in love.

Loyalty is the hundred dollar bill. You flash a roll of loyalty around because it says "Mess with me, mess with my whole family". That's good news for the family, bad news for the mess-er.

Understanding and faith are the Ulysses S. Grant of this currency. For kids, these fifties are rare and harder to part with. As adults, we understand items with tremendous value can be found for $50. Knowledge and compassion are factors of this bill.

Since it's the only denomination stocked in an ATM, humor has to be the double-sawbuck. Check the wallet of humanity of any member of my family, and you'll find at least five crisp bills of humor, receipts for a withdrawal today and yesterday and the day before. It's fully accessible, as convenient as a debit card, accepted almost everywhere and can be used to get 'cash back' on purchases. Looks like our particular banking plan allows unlimited debit card transactions.

As adults, respect is like a $5 bill. It may be a little humble, but this smallest denomination of paper money makes one feel richer. It's versatile - it's enough for two coffees, or a Frappuccino, or a
Grande Mocha, or an entire Happy Meal. The point is, $5 can get you a little or be stretched to get a little more.
As kids, respect was more like a commemorative coin. We gave it and knew a sibling would keep it in a safe place and occasionally pull it out of his/her memory to recount the specifics of the day it was presented.

That we can measure our fortunes in a currency other than cash makes us very wealthy indeed.

8 comments:

Michelle said...

What a beautiful essay! You should submit this to a couple of publications - like Reader's Digest, Canadian Living, Homemaker's, etc. Really, it's that good!

What an inspired line: "each of us was so creative, we put on wonderful displays of suffering." Brilliant!

Christine said...

Thank you!
I've pocketed another handful of "money".

Perhaps that line about displaying our suffering hits you because you were there and can remember our dramas!

Biddie said...

I am with Michelle on this. YOu should submit this to RD, or another publication. It should be shared with the masses!
Beautiful!

Christine said...

Thank you, Bridget.

Here it is on the World Wide InterWeb for all to see...

I had visits to the site from 8 different people at Quizno's Head Office - wonder what they thought of it?

Anonymous said...

None of us suffered because we shared a bike or a bedroom.

What about the bathroom?
We may have suffered from shared bathroom syndrome!

Anonymous said...

Not suffer because we shared a bike or bathroom, are you kidding. Some of us suffered. Like the time Joe sold the seat off the bike for an apple, let me tell you, when I hit that bump going over the Zion hill, I suffered. Holy Crap, I'm still haunted by that one.

Not suffered, are you nuts? My husband and I still have a Marcia Brady line down the middle of our bedroom. You should see how hard it is to get to the bathroom without stepping on his side. More than many a morning has passed when I've landed on wet footprints from him having walked to his side of the room from the bathtub. I only lost consciousness once, tho. I definitely blame the need for having shared bedrooms and although you were probably too young to remember, beds, as children. I always had to sleep between the trundles and have a permanent line embedded in my face as a result of having been squished between Michelle and Lori, each of whom managed to claim sections of mattress.

No, you're right, we didn't suffer. I suppose I'll be fine, really. (Pregnant pause) I guess it builds character. How much is that worth, I wanna' know.

Anonymous said...

It really was beautifully written. Nice Job.

Christine said...

It's not the cost of character, it's the value of building character -
either way, the answer is priceless.

I thought I was over the trundle experience, but I guess I had just repressed the trauma.