the two unks and their little dog
I took my uncle to dinner the other night. He moved to Denver with one of his brothers and a little dog from Butte, Montana 7 years ago after their mother died. We are Ojibwe on my father’s side of the family and my “Indian” relatives (as they refer to themselves) always stop me in my tracks with the reality of their day-to-day lives.
I was buying “Unk Joe” a bicycle. He has had a really tough year including loosing his driver’s license, crashing his motor scooter, moving to a cheap, dank apartment, and last week being laid off from his job. Four years ago, his brother died as did the little dog. Joey has been trying to make it on his own for the first time in his life ever since.
We were talking about the difference between living in the city and living in Butte, Montana. He was happy in Butte even after the economic collapse of a post-mining boom. At first, he was on welfare – an income of $391 a month. He also got $60 a month in food stamps. There was no work until a Burger King opened. He and his brother immediately applied for jobs and worked at a the Burger King for 8 years before their mother died and we invited them to move to Denver to be near family. They gave 6 months notice to the Burger King and had a job lined up in Aurora the day they arrived.
I know there are people who abuse the system (welfare, food banks, housing) and I know my uncles are unique in their work ethic, but I have to admit that despite apprehension over the incoming democratic leaders and dread over the taxes that are coming down the pipe: no one is getting rich on welfare.
I have a lot of “Needys” in my life. Needys are people who chronically need help of some kind. This isn’t an easy role even for Saints who probably came to the same cruel conclusion I have about the Needys. I don’t know how Saints dealt with their convictions. I have concluded, based on my personal experience, there are 3 kinds of Needys:
1) The Professional Needys: these people hone the tools of manipulation. They are devoted victims with the acquired skill to estimate what they can get out of other people and take advantage of the situation. They create an atmosphere of “poor-me” and play on your heart completely relying on a hand-out for their career. These people abuse the system and take the bounty from others who can’t help themselves. They are seldom grateful and feign being nice in order to get something. They don’t help anyone else. I can’t condemn the Professional Needys anymore than I can condemn a wild animal for survival of the fittest.
2) The Damaged Needys: these poor souls — for a variety of reasons — are completely reliant on help. They may have had an emotional breakdown and never recovered. These people have lost their families, maybe never had a home, experienced war horrors, been born with a congenital defect, grown up in abusive environments where they learned addiction at an early age. They can’t escape their situation: they don’t have the tools. These people need help to subsist and likely are not going to be getting any better. They are usually very grateful and will help other people.
3) The Temporary Needys: these are people who are temporarily down and out. They hit terrible obstacles and low points but they always have a plan. A lot of times true genius and ingenuity lead down this road. Entrepreneurs commonly find themselves in this situation. People who take risks to try something new, to pursue a dream, are willing to overextend their resources end up in this situation. They are the dreamers. They have potential to succeed or fail equally. These people can be crazy and drive you crazy with their outlandish schemes. I have known a lot of prospectors in this category.
I know these are harsh assessments of people, great over-generalizations, but when I listened to my Unk reminiscing on his happy days in Butte, his meek income, his menial jobs, and then when I helped him unload the new bicycle and watched his pride in riding the shiny new thing in the parking lot I knew that I take for granted the great bounty I am enjoying in my life. I am only one generation away from the polio, TB, and extreme poverty of where my dad grew up. It is a luxury to take for granted my car, my house, my recreation, my job, and my finances. Mostly, I appreciated the sacrifice and commitment my father made to get out of there and do better for himself and for his kids.
Generosity doesn’t spill over from the wealth, it spills over from the heart.
BTW: Unk Joey is making payments on his bicycle to me and he bought our family’s turkey for Thanksgiving despite being unemployed this year.
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