Humbled

Yesterday I was invited to a lunch meeting with several regional representatives for the kind of work that I do.

Now, if I do say so myself, I consider myself at least as smart as the average bear. So it was very humbling to struggle to keep up with their conversation and to feel, quite frankly, like a six-year-old accidentally dropped off on a college campus.

I will never be invited to join Mensa. From time to time, that is made painfully clear to me.

On a lighter note: I had one dollar with me that day, since payday is still several days away, so my Beloved and I had agreed that I could put my lunch on the credit card.

"Just don't spend a lot," She said.

So I scanned the menu and found the cheapest thing on it, some kind of cheese and artichoke appetizer for six bucks that I could have made at home with a 50 cent jar of artichokes and some Cheez Whiz.

I ate my little meal whilst my lunch companions dined on huge, fancy sandwiches, fries and other succulent fare. I felt sorry for myself but hey, that's life. I also ate most of the garlic rolls in the communal plate since everybody else was busy with their food whilst mine had taken about twenty seconds to eat.

The time came to pay our respective bills.

"I'll cover this, my treat," said the meeting-organizer to us.

NOW he tells me.

Poverty sucks.

A Can O' Beans

Two days before payday. So ... a can of pork and beans for lunch. The pork is but a vain hope in a heap of beans. How do they get away with that lie, year after year? There's so little pork in that tin can, it could almost pass a Kosher inspection.

Contemplating the bean can, thinking about the inherent humor in such a simple thing.

Imagine a hiker moseying into his campsite, tossing down his pack and pitching his tent. Meanwhile, a furry paw reaches from a bush and borrows the pack for a moment, then tosses it back. Camper fails to notice. Camper sits on a rock and extricates from the pack a can of beans. Reaches in again for the can opener. No can opener.

Goes berserk. Dumps out the pack. Searches the campsite. Then makes several attempts to open the can, using a fork, a stick, a rock, a hammer, etc.

Finally gives up in a rage and throws the can against a tree. It of course bounces back and knocks him out cold.

At which point we see a very dignified bear stride into the campsite and say:

"Man, I thought he would NEVER give up."

The bear then picks up the can of beans and calmly opens it with the can opener that he borrowed earlier from the camper's pack. Then sits on the rock and enjoys his meal.

Poverty

I was listening today to a broadcast out of Haiti. Seems in many areas there, the bloody violence that sickened anyone with a heart not so long ago, has abated but the poverty remains.

We can do so many things, we human beings. Why can't we find a solution to this ancient misery? Why must the 200o year-old words from the Bible be so sadly prophetic: The poor ye have always with you."

Why is there poverty in Citie de Sol, Haiti? Because there are no jobs, the residents say.

No jobs. Why are there no jobs there? How can jobs be brought there?

The 21st Century is supposed to see a majority of humankind living for the first time in cities, and the phrase will be heard like a miserable mantra: no jobs, no jobs.

And as long as there are poor people, dictators and demagogues -- whether Latin American "caudillos" or insane fundamentalists -- will continue to thrive and survive.

You can't take from the rich to give to the poor. That ultimately renders everyone poor. But if the rich don't give to the poor, the poor will take from the rich, and it won't be pretty, as Steinbeck warned in Grapes of Wrath.