The working class hero thing.
I applied for my first real job twelve or thirteen years ago. Minimum wage here in Maine was around 5.65 or so. I remember people patting me on the back and cheering me on, telling me that I would be a "working class hero". It sounded kinda cool, I mean, maybe not as cool as Superman, or Batman, or being a super hero... but still, the inclusion of the word hero got me all starry eyed and shit. A dish-washing hero at a Chinese restaurant...
I remember thinking to myself that if I worked hard, made sacrifices, and tried to live within my means, I would eventually move forward, make more money, maybe one day have my own home. I rented a home with my fiance and her young daughter - and eventually an infant son. She made maybe nine dollars an hour, I earned the minimum wage. Now, of course I made mistakes, spent money foolishly on things I probably didn't need. I was seventeen, eighteen, living the American (delusion) dream. Generally though, I didn't spend above my means because I couldn't. With what (little) money my fiance and I had - without family help we would have been forced to move back in with our parents - and we eventually were, in any event - but, back to this starry eyed hero business..
My optimism began to fade a bit when, during my second week on the job, a fellow employee told me (very excitedly) that after seventeen years, she had finally started earning 7.50 an hour. I sort of blinked at her. There she was, an older lady, unable to walk without a limp, sweating hard, her hands all pruned from the dish-water.. missing several teeth (but still had a very sweet smile) and obviously forcing herself to keep moving after a twelve hour shift. I looked at her and wondered, briefly, whether in seventeen years I would be like that. Whether I would be worse off, or better.
Well, I was rather promptly booted from my parents health insurance when I became a legal adult. My fiance was struggling with student loan debts for an education she had been unable to finish - rent was due (at 500 a month plus utilities, low for most of us now, but rather high for me) the baby needed diapers, the little girl needed school supplies, everyone needed clothes. How we survived, how we struggled through that madness, I still don't fully comprehend.
An eighteen year old boy/man with a GED and a give em hell attitude... the twelve hour shifts, the laundry that needed doing at home, the dishes, the cooking, the cleaning, I eventually began to struggle with an overwhelming depression.
Long story short - we failed, as was almost inevitable. Even with state/federal assistance in the form of medicaid and food stamps, life was simply too expensive, pay was too low, and there was always too much to do and never enough time. We were barely more than children raising children of our own.
I remember well the jeers, mocking, the insults and snide condescension from others. One particular woman (a mental health professional) told me that people like my fiance and I were parasites, living off of others and spending HER tax dollars. We should work more, we should have finished college, we should have done this or that. Even a couple of family members looked down on me, hell, I began to look down on myself. Poor, a failure, unable to support and feed a family.
A three year effort that ended in failure. My fiance and I broke up, either because we were not happy with each other, or because our circumstances made us unhappy... I still don't know which. I spent the next several years in therapy, in and out of crisis units and even a psych ward once.
A few years ago I picked myself up, dusted myself off - and went back to work. Minimum wage is now 7.50 in my state. I earn 8.50. Everything is even more expensive than before. Car payments, gas, food, insurance, student loan debt (my one year of education was, in retrospect, perhaps not worth the ten thousand in debt) medical bills, the list goes on and on. Back and forth between full time and part time, still without those mythical things called "benefits".
A working class hero - non union job, low pay... I am now firmly convinced that every "working class hero" in this Country really is a hero, not because of the work they do in itself... but because of how hard we have to struggle, just to get by every day, just to survive without losing our damned minds. Bodies damaged, often beyond repair from years of this nonsense we call work, debt, debt, and more debt... with no end in sight. A land that has become so expensive, so difficult to live in, that so many people over thirty are forced to live with their parents.
In a land that worships celebrities, politicians, athletes... in a land that praises them, idolizes them, obsesses about them in the media... the real heroes, most of the truly worthiest and best of the best among us... their praises go unsung. Their stories are usually untold. I tell you though, that with them lies my admiration, my adoration, my respect, my heart - and my faith. In regular people who survive and even overcome seemingly impossible odds every damn day of their lives. Without thanks, without great bonuses or kudos or accolades of any kind, but with the determination to make things better, for themselves, for their families, for the world around them.
You know who my heroes are? The working class. The working people of this Country. I am honored to be one of you. Pat yourself on the back and keep your chin up, whatever your circumstances... if you're working in this shit? If you're struggling by? You're a damn hero. For you, for me, for all of us, for our families... we are making the world a better place.
It's easy to forget that, with all the shit going on in the world, all of the terror, suffering, devastation. Keep in mind though... that merely by virtue of your survival and continued struggle, you are a hero of truly epic proportions. Way cooler than Batman or Superman, because you are a REAL hero.
That's all I have to say about that.
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Thank you for that! I admire you.
