The Illusions of Adversity & The Reality of The True Cinderella Story...
Questions for the day: Will your foot fit into The Glass Slipper? A shiny pair of Red Shoes? Will your Knight in Shining Armor--find you?
(only time will tell...)
My boys and I were down at the Department of Citizen Services or better known to the Regulars as, Welfare, this past Monday morning at 7:10. As we walked the aromatic, Newark, New Jersey streets, my youngest son, said under his breath and looking down to the ground, “we shouldn’t have worn anything remotely nice down here, Mom…” and as I glanced at our attire and said, surprised and nervously laughing, “we have jeans on and shorts! What is remotely nice about that?” And as he looked at his surroundings, he said, “yeah, but we still stand out.” The Newark streets were not as picturesque as our home town, nor as clean and maybe we were the only white folks around and no one seemed fashion forward, but so what. I was never one to notice color before, so I didn’t see the point in giving it any attention now. Besides, when you are the minority color, you blend in more. You blend in because you mirror others and they mirror you. Discrimination is the unnatural state, not the differentiation between black or white, or the colors of the rainbow… In other words: to think you stand out, separates. To feel you belong, unites. As far as I was concerned, we were all the same color and we all had bellies to fill…
The line spanned a half a block and the doors hadn’t even opened yet. I thought how it would have been nicer if we were standing outside, waiting on line to purchase tickets to our favorite Broadway Show or concert, but the tickets we were on line for were potentially to feed our bellies. As we patiently waited outside for the queue to move, I noticed that most everyone had tattoos except my boys and I—manicures and pedicures, except my boys and I. (I always fantasized about getting a tattoo, but being a writer I have far too much to say for just one.)
(I imagined my body, colorfully inked from head to toe, shouting my every message and cause to the world. I secretly feared that my flesh would run out of space and: whatever would I do if I could not finish my body’s Tidings with colorful tattoos? So I have opted to keep my person clean and white and leave my messages to the black-ink-on-paper-tattoos—my Other Flesh.)
As we sat in the waiting room watching Cinderella on the overhead T.V., I wondered why there wasn’t some educational program on either employment tactics or health and diet issues, since most everyone in the room looked like they could use a few tips here and there! I was going to stand up and offer my recommendations on all the benefits of apple cider vinegar and omega three’s, cooking organic, positive thinking and exercise—but after scanning the room a few times, I thought it best that I keep my thoughts and opinions to myself (a tactic I do not practice enough). Then my mind trailed off imagining all the wonderful goals I would accomplish if I was running the Welfare Show: I would implement tools and ideas to help individuals and families enhance their lives, follow in the course of their dreams, encourage positive action—rather than keep them stuck in these unfortunate situations, by not educating and guiding them appropriately and consistently. But things down there at the Welfare office are not that black and white or that simple. In order for any system to be beneficial, a few things must happen: one must understand the necessary steps to get out of their situation; motivation and inspiration are vital in any pursuit of survival; some kind of physical support, kindness and love also contributes to the sustenance of life. While one might be able to crawl to the gutter alone and pull themselves up to the curb, hauling your butt past the curb and onto a decent civilization in any respectful, dignified manner is a whole other story and one most likely you will not be able to facilitate alone, especially while carrying a few offspring.
While sitting, waiting, contemplating and taking in our current environment, I asked myself some serious questions: How did I get here? I should be employed and doing “more”, that is, after all the American way—don’t stop till you’re dead, then meditate all you want! The answer to that question is a resounding, unequivocal yes. Yes, I should be employed. Then I thought again on the past eight years, my employment history; single parenting; the salaries I am qualified to command; the emotional, spiritual and physical needs of my children and the overall cost of living. The child support has not changed in eight years, yet the cost of living has drastically. The reality of how I ended up there, at the Welfare office is a Reality I could easily understand.
Over the years (and it is many years now) I have always worked and generated income. I have always worn many Hats and had a variety of salaries. There have been gaps in employment, but understandably so. When you are a single parent and there is no real financial support (or limited financial support) and no physical support, family, etc… coupled with the constant emotional beatings and harassment from your ex-What-Ever, you, as the custodial parent are left with several jobs and not all of them can be done well. (There just isn’t enough time in the day.) I chose to parent well and for that choice, I have paid greatly by society and both sides of the families. My ex-Some-Thing-Or-Other’s family has complained for years, insisting that I am not pulling my “share” and that the need for two incomes is apparent for families today and that is obvious. However, my income over the years never amounted to more than the minimum for any basic need, let alone for any need I, the mother of these children might have to sustain myself. Question: Do I not matter too? How many ways can you divide 10-15 dollars an hour among four individuals after taxes? I do not stand alone in this financial dilemma, depending on where you live in this country and the cost of living, there are plenty of families struggling and the more dyer one’s situation becomes, the more unlikely their chances of surviving are. While adversity might lend pointers to What You Are Really Made Of, it can also lead to your demise.
The Relativity of Currency
I have earned anywhere from minimum wage to $9,000 for a day’s work, way back when I was in the advertising industry and the cost of living was less. Our earning capacity is relative to our job timing and current situation and skill set. While Einstein believed that time was relative, so is the value of the dollar. My time as an employee, self-employed or mother-on-the-go, right now, generates random incomes due to the fact that my children are my first priority and while that job often goes unrecognized and uncompensated—it is still a job. So while I scout for part-time work to help support my children, at the end of each day, I parent integrated and balanced teenagers who feel unconditionally loved. I am learning that that love does not count with our society and my role, as their mother surely has no significance to my children’s father or his family or maybe even mine, but it does have great value to three very important human beings in my life, and that is what i remember at the end of each triumphant day.
* * * * * *
My boys and I waited for over two and a half hours to be seen by our case manager. We were also the only ones watching, Cinderella on the overhead T.V. It amused me how, in such a desperate place, some of my favorite Disney characters came into my world, color-full, bright, alive and filled with unimaginable and inexhaustible—hope. Somehow, as children, we believe, without doubt that like all good fairy tales, our life will too have a happy ending and we are reminded of the power in believing. Just when my name was called by a caseworker, Cinderella was being whisked off to Happily Ever After with her prince and the credits rolled and the song sang and we remember, we imagine and we believe…
“A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you’re fast asleep. In dreams you lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbow will come smiling thru. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true…”
(Even at the Welfare office!)
After what seemed like a legal interrogation on why I was there at this Place of Last Resort, my boys and I left the Department of Citizen Services, holding hands and racing down the stairs, excited to get back to Our World and our pooch, Baloo. As we left the building, I turned and looked to my right and I looked to my left and then to the sky and while the day might have been just beginning for some, to me, it was already a long day closing. It was hot and muggy with plenty of dark, stormy clouds in the sky, (it has rained most of June) still I could see the remnants of a Rainbow shining through and I could feel a Moondance about to happen. I paused and took a long, contemplative look at the streets of downtown Newark, New Jersey. Sighing, suddenly my surroundings took on an entirely new perspective. For a moment I could hear the sound of a piano humming the blues away in my mind and an acoustic guitar weaving notes in between the unmistakable and unforgettable voice of little boy from Northern Ireland, who too believed that dreams come true. I closed off the external noise of the streets of downtown, Newark, while Van Morrison took my hand in his and serenaded my troubles away with, “It’s a ma-va-lous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes, a fantabulous night to make romance...” and my boys and I raced to our car (and it was still where I parked it!) I heard, Mr. Morrison again, reminding me just like a Disney tale, “there and then all my dreams will come true…” and I thought, as I opened the door to my bright, electric blue, Chevy, HHR, that is for sale, “yes, yes, yes,(!) this is just one of the many Stops on the Way to making the dreams of my children’s and mine, come true.
(We will get Our Happy Ending, just you wait and see…!)
So, when that Clock is about to strike 12 and that noon train is approaching around the bend; the tracks are laden with golden bricks pointing in a Direction and your life is asking you: Decide, Decide, Decide...who are you going to listen to? Your heart or your mind? What will you do? Tell the Truth or Lie?
(only time will tell...)