Snootiness

When I was a kid, and more importantly a teenager, I had ideas about what rich people were like. I unconsciously defined rich people as people who:

1. Had a house fewer than 10 years old, or...
2. Had a house with more than 2,800 square feet

Maybe my qualifications were loosely defined, but when you're a kid, anybody who has more than you seems rich. The house I grew up in was 2,400 sq.ft. (not all of that was finished square footage) and always had old age problems. I can't count the number of times we were lifting up the carpet and trying to dry it out after plumbing problems.

I had friends who had "big houses" and I thought they lived on Easy Street. But I had ideas about rich people, and I assumed my friends were the exceptions. I thought rich people were full of themselves, greedy and worldly. They seemed to act like they owned the world.

Fast forward to 2008 and I look around my house somewhat uncomfortably. It's big. It's comfortable. And it's only four years old. The plumbing, I'm pleased to say, works without a hitch. So why do I feel uncomfortable?

Maybe I have a feeling that it just can't last. Maybe I feel like I don't deserve a nice house like this. Maybe I worry about all those kids in third-world countries whose families would kill to have one room in a house like this. Or maybe I'm worried that I'll start to take it all for granted.

Maybe I'm worried that keeping up with the Joneses is a heck of a lot harder than it was growing up. Granted, I've always been too rebellious and independent to keep up with any danged Joneses. I'd rather be a liberal hippie than simply try to blend in. But I might be blending accidentally. Is that possible?

Before I moved into this neighborhood, I thought Rhinos were big, ugly animals, not cute and trendy little vehicle thingees. I didn't know Nordstrom had clearance sales because I'd never stepped foot in Nordstrom. I didn't know it was possible to park a huge boat next to your house on an RV pad because nobody in my neighborhood could have told you what the heck an RV pad was.

But I've learned other things with my neighbors. First of all, many of them may spend money at a faster clip than I personally do, but there's no need for alarm. They're awesome people! They have huge hearts, contagious laughter and good intellect. They're exactly the kind of people I want as friends. I never did have friends in my neighborhood growing up but this neighborhood fits me like a glove. I'm intimidated to death by my neighbors, but I admire them more than I can say.

Moral of the story is: teenage jealousy does not translate well into rational thinking.

...And yet, I do have to share one tiny little gem of a story. At my son's school, there are two lanes for dropping off kids. One is labeled for buses only and it is closer to the school. If you drop your kids off in the actual drop-off lane, your child has to cross a crosswalk in the Bus Lane to get to the school. I was informed by a neighbor on the first day that the principal would yell at me if I ever entered the bus lane. So I never have.

And yet, every time I drop Joseph off and he enters the crosswalk, some bleepity-bleep Mom or other pulls speedily into the bus lane. I see Joseph stop, hesitate and weigh out the situation. If he walks forward, he could get hit by that car barrelling through the parking lot. If he waits, he knows the bleepity bleep SUV will park in the crosswalk and sit there for five minutes so that Joseph will have to go in front of them or behind them (in front of another bleepity-bleep SUV that appears as big as Mount Everest to a scared five-year-old). Every day I watch this drama feeling a little annoyed. They always park in the middle of the crosswalk. Come on, people!

So today I was watching as a huge truck pulled into the bus lane. It's paint was peeling and it roared to life like only a huge truck can. It was obviously old but well-loved. I started feeling the familiar feeling of annoyance when, to my surprise, the driver of the truck pulled to a stop well before the crosswalk. He looked at the kids crossing the crosswalk--yes, he actually noticed them!--and was obviously concerned about their safety. I looked at the long line of SUVs piling up behind him and was grateful for one person who didn't act like his child was the only one whose safety mattered. He appeared to have a lot less money than the stream of perfectly-manicured Moms behind him. But his common courtesy reminded me of the good folks I grew up with, who couldn't afford to take anything for granted and still remembered that chivalry ain't dead.

New Moral of the Story: you really can't judge or categorize or stereotype people. You can just get to know them and realize that everybody has something wonderful to offer.