August 20, 2004

• God, we’re rich!

  
  

   

  
  

  I don’t mean me or my family.  We’re poor.  I’m sitting here wearing a shirt I got out of a dumpster.  The rest of my clothes (including socks and undies) came from a thrift shop, and Kathy bought my shoes at a yard sale.  Our bifocals came courtesy of the Willow Lions Club, and we are all–including the cats– doing without dental care we can’t afford.  Health insurance is out of the question, as is a real vacation. No, by “we” I mean the Untied States of Amerika (sic).  As a nation, we are not only rich, but also fat and stupid.  I think this is one reason why other countries hate us.  I can’t blame all the hate on the arrogant, all-hat no-cattle, wannabee cowboy in the White House.

  
  

   

  
  

  This came home to me recently at my booth at the Wasilla Farmer’s Market.  This well-dressed white woman came by, said “My, this all looks so good, I wish I could have all of it.”  I gave her my little sales pitch–everything on my main table (jewelry–including hand-made earrings made by Kathy’s hands, collectible pins from the Iditarod and Fur Rondy and stuff, hats with one-of-a-kind Native beadwork, ansd a whole bunch of knives) sells for $10 each, any three for $20.

  
  

   

  
  

  Lady Bountiful starts to poormouth, talking about how much money she has spent already in the first two months of her three-month vacation.  WTF!?!  I can’t afford to take a day off to go to the state fair, and this rich bitch is on a three-month Alaska vacation?  She had no idea how insulting, how  patronizing she was being.  She had no idea how much I wanted to eviscerate her (okay, I’m exaggerating–maim a little, perhaps)–or at least have a few words with her, but she pranced off before I could begin to educate her regarding a few realities of life.

  
  

   

  
  

  But I digress.  Actually, this “we’re rich” idea has been percolating in my tiny mind for months, prompted by the endless supplly of goodies that streams from the local dumpster.  As I have mentioned before, I live at Felony Flats, a rag-tag collection of cabins and storage units (people live in some of the storage units, too) where I have a flea market stand.  I am one of the few folks there who actually works for a living, and the only dealer there who actually has a business license.  The bottom line is, we are all pretty much there because we have no place else to go.

  
  

   

  
  

  Still, we throw enough away to keep a third-world junk dealer in clover. Clothing in riotous abundance–last night, Kathy tried on a brand-new sweater (labels still attached) that I had scrounged–looked good on her, too.  This morning, I dropped off six bags of clothing at a Big Brothers/Big Sisters collection point–most of it came from the dumpster.  A month or so ago, I gave one of my wife’s pregnant friends a shitload of baby stuff–hats, jumpers, precious little shirts and bib overalls and stuff. One pair of jeans had a $5 bill wadded up in the watch pocket.  Sometimes I get stuff, wear it until it gets dirty, and return it to the dumpster.

  
  

   

  
  

  Last night, there were three computer monitors in the trash, and I have gotten two boomboxes–one I use, the other (a really nice-looking JVC with CD drive) Doug dismantled to recycle the parts in an art project. An NEC CD/DVD player–the DVD had puked, but the CD player worked just fine. I had to pass on a 19-inch Panasonic color TV, didn’t want to risk hurting myself getting it out. I got a SCOTS CD that I love to play–great fusion zydeco/rockabilly/blues stuff.   Right now, I have 34 pairs of really cool-looking earrings that I scrounged from a business that went under, waiting for me to clean them up and card them and price them–I expect to get $10-20 a pair.

  
  

   

  
  

  And the list goes on–plumbing supplies, hardware of all  sorts, car parts still in the original packaging, furniture. Oh, and stuffed animals–a big bear that sits on my bed, an orangatan that went home with Kathy.  And odds and ends galore–scented candles, suitcases, a tube of silicone sealer, tableware, cups and plates and saucers in perfect condition.

  
  

   

  
  

   Some of the stuff we keep, some we sell, much we give away.  I’ve even given away stuff anonymously to other dealers at the flea market, just for the fun of it.

  
  

   

  
  

  And the flow keeps flowing–thank you, thank you, oh great and good Dumpster Deva!

  • 3:55 pm
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