I was talking to a cashier at walmart the other day, and yes before you comment on the evils of walmart I understand how bad it is. If I had more then 50 dollars in my checking account I wouldn’t be shopping there, but I am not really getting by as it is. She (the cashier) was at the youngest 80, this is her second job, just to heat her house and feed her and her grandson she works over 65 hours a week. It put my problems in perspective I’ll tell you that.
But sadly its getting really hard for people, I am sure wherever you live you are seeing the foreclosure signs. My uncle is losing his house, factories are making the news for the number of layoffs, people are trying to hold on. I am really scared myself I will have my bachelors degree this may and I want to go to graduate school, I am fairly certain after May I wont have a job I imagined with my degree.
The last restaurant I worked with all but one of my fellow waitress had degrees, so I decided that I want to be a college professor. I am scared for myself, but my heart really goes out to the elderly on fixed incomes trying really hard not to loose their houses.
I wrote this poem I wanted to share..
The Gas Crisis in America
The hum of the heat
Hot water moving from the basement
Through the vents
Saddens me
Nature is biting off finger tips
As I lie here warm
Turning fingernails blue
On a hand crippled by arthritis
Shaking bones against rough cartilage
Prickles of pains, needles of nettles
Thorns from the crown of Jesus
Under her skin you can see them
As I lie here warm
Can opener creaks
Starts and stops
3 dollars at Mrs. Mughens Tag sale
brown and tan
Hit it three times
Jiggle it once
Food
Decapitated can
tomato soup
Made with water
30 seconds in the microwave
luke warm is more affordable
Duck Taped pillow
Closes the broken
Kitchen window that looks lovely out to the garden
Of Grandmother’s grandmother’s house
Even war worn thread thin in carpet
It is a beautiful house
Where grandchildren’s voices echoed
Sleepless nights of new motherhood
Pacing with baby
Sanded in footprints in the smallest blue bedroom
Paint that has peeled into the grass like dandruff in the summer wind
Now hidden by snow
Does not diminish her glassy eyed stare
As the winter wind punches the shutters into the glass
Removing three blankets
Placing one more coat over the two she wears indoors
Stuffing escaping elbows and edges she fights to move swiftly
To tend to the sick shutter, that would kill her with pneumonia
If it could
She balances on the ice, like a reborn ballerina because
Falling and blending in the with snow
Would mean never hearing the sweet shrill of a songbird
To tell her once again she will be all right
As I Lie here warm
I thought this was a really good, insightful entry. You've obviously thought a lot about this, as the poem at the end shows.
Things are getting worse economically. Hopefully our next Prez will be able to do something about it.