Being Poor, Part One

Over two decades ago the DHM and the HM married. At the time we both had reasonable jobs, but within a month or two we both lost our jobs. It was the midst of the Reagan Recession, the HM’s employer died and his wife disbanded the business, the DHM’s employer was a whole ‘nother story that shall never be fully told.
Having played like crickets instead of saved like ants, we had no money in the bank. Zero. We had lived from paycheck to paycheck, and so, overnight, we were broke. Not just broke, but destitute.
We sold our stereo and some pieces of furniture. I baked bread and Granny Tea sold it at work. The HM sold his truck and we walked everywhere we went. G-pa loaned the Headmaster a mo-ped. We babysat. We picked up coins in the street. We moved to a smaller and cheaper apartment. We didn’t have the money to pay the deposit for utilities, so we did without electricity and used the ice chest for a fridge. We had a camping lantern for evening light, and we had a gas cooktop for cooking. Fortunately, we lived in a temperate climate.
The Headmaster was able to pick up two minimum wage jobs, and we managed as best we could, although we would not tell our friends and family just how bad things were. I think they assumed we’d been less profligate than we were.
We were friendly to the apartment full of migrant farm workers next door, and I remembered a few words of polite Spanish from my school days. They would bring home a box of vegetables periodically which supplemented our food supply nicely.

There came a day when we had two eggs in the house, and no prospects of more money or food until the next day. When it was time to cook them, I dropped one on the floor and broke it. It didn’t just break- it splattered all over the floor so I couldn’t even scrape it up and cook it. I sat on the floor and sobbed. The Headmaster hugged me and joked, “Well, you know what they say! No use crying over spilled eggs! I was not comforted.

It might have been the next day, but I think it was that afternoon….

To be continued

Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Redux

This entry was posted in frugalities, Who We Are. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

8 Comments

  1. Scott
    Posted October 20, 2005 at 5:40 pm | Permalink

    That was mean . . .

  2. Scott
    Posted October 20, 2005 at 5:40 pm | Permalink

    That was mean . . .

  3. Scott
    Posted October 20, 2005 at 5:40 pm | Permalink

    That was mean . . .

  4. Scott
    Posted October 20, 2005 at 5:40 pm | Permalink

    That was mean . . .

  5. Scott
    Posted October 20, 2005 at 5:40 pm | Permalink

    That was mean . . .

  6. Scott
    Posted October 20, 2005 at 5:40 pm | Permalink

    That was mean . . .

  7. Anonymous
    Posted June 11, 2006 at 10:32 pm | Permalink

    Why did’nt you see if you could work with the migrant workers? just a thought….

  8. Headmistress, zookeeper
    Posted June 12, 2006 at 3:24 pm | Permalink

    I was pregnant, had pregnancy induced high blood pressure, and no transportation.
    Among other things.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

*
*



  • Amazon: Buy our Kindle Books

  • Search Amazon


    Try Audible and Get Two Free Audiobooks

  • Brainy Fridays Recommends:

  • Search:
    Christianbook.com