a selection of photos from my childhood showing the style and culture of the day...

Christmas Day. Note the high tech sound system!

My little sister on our new couch, with what kids listened to before there were MP3 players. The "radio" played one song: 10 Little Indians.

Me, in the "play room" (one of the five rooms in our home, all the kids shared a bedroom) I'm guessing that's Creepy Crawlers behind the stack of boxes that I'm playing with.

Remember when family vacations looked like this? I do. BTW, this is Craters of the Moon National Monument.

Remember when we wore our "Sunday Best"?

"While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping..."





The other day I was waiting for the bus downtown when suddenly I heard this bizarre sound, followed closely by a banging noise. I looked up, and saw the reflection shifting in a window of the office building across the street.

Standing on the sill of the window was a crow. He looked around for a moment, then turned back to the window and struck it hard, repeatedly, with his beak. Before I could get the camera out, he turned. I got just one photo before he flew away.

As is often the case, as soon as I put my camera away, he was back, once again furiously tapping at the glass, and once again, I got my camera out just in time to videotape him flying away.

And then, because I didn't put my camera away again, the bus came, and I was left wondering. Was he tapping on his own reflection? Or was there something beyond the tinted window he saw that he wanted? Or was that just Mr. Poe's office?

Sometimes it's like our family is living a lie.  We dress well, because I am diligent in shopping at our local thrift stores for clothing of quality and fashion, even if I am paying only $3 for a pair of jeans and $1.49 for a shirt.  Our home is furnished in better quality and modern furniture (at least in the public areas) thanks to garage sales and Craigslist.  And because we find all the free and low cost cultural activities, used to drive everywhere instead of fly, and often stopped at museums and zoos and aquariums, have had a diversity of experience that few of our peers in our economic class have had.

As a result, most of our friends are outside of our economic class, which tends to make our friendships tenuous at times.

In the past I've had to deal with my eldest wanting to know why she couldn't go on the whitewater rafting trip with her friends (since she didn't ask to go to Europe with her other friends).  I've had a friend who bought a brand new customized BMW bemoaning the fact that she couldn't get the Mercedes and still go on her two international trips that year.  And of course most of my friends don't understand why we only go out to eat three times a year instead of three times a week, or why it's a trial to come up with money for a movie ticket.

I am not a social stereotype of poverty. I don't dress in layers of out of date clothing, even though I am often seen pushing a shopping cart (but my own, not a store cart) on the bus.  I am educated. I don't drink, I don't do drugs.  Therefore, in the mind of those who know me, I can't possibly be poor.  I must be lying about how much money comes into my household.  Or I'm somehow "bad" because I'm (to their minds) living above my means.  Aside from my student loans (on perpetual deferment due to my health issues) and my many medical bills, I owe exactly $295 on my (only) credit card.  I live exactly within my means.   But that doesn't mean I have to live without pride, without culture, without all the self actualization that for some reason (probably Maslow) most people think can't come without a certain level of financial affluence.

What makes me sad about all this isn't that I'm misunderstood by both the poor and those who are financially well off, but that my kids are starting to feel the pain.

This morning Cay's bestie called her to tell her not to come over this weekend, and that her mother wanted to meet with me over "financial matters" relating to the girls' college plans for fall.  Cay's bestie (and her mom) want the girls to rent an apartment in Santa Fe (which is horrifically expensive, even the campus apartments at the pricy private school they planned to go to).  The fact of the matter is that Cay will be going to school entirely on scholarships, grants and student loans, and with an annual income of $12K, there's just no way I'll be able to contribute to either of my girl's education, much less chip in on an apartment so Cay's friend doesn't have to live in a dorm.

Cay is well aware that a semester at this college is more than I make in a year.  She knows that she will have to go into debt to get the education she needs to secure her future.  But she keenly feels the frustration and disappointment and pressure coming from her friend, who requires her to have more than she can possibly have, where finances are concerned.

This morning Cay asked to apply to a different school.  It was a shock for me, but she realizes that she doesn't want to accrue the kind of debt her first choice would result in. We'll apply to the other school, which has a program just as good, and she'll be able to room with her sister (if she gets in).  But at the same time, I have to remind her that if she's switching schools to avoid dealing with her friend's disappointment in her financial situation, that she's making the wrong choice, because this is something that isn't going to go away.

We are a family who lives well below the poverty line.  But we are educated, cultured, and have a diversity of experience.  We are a family who feels strongly that relationships shouldn't be built on the level of financial affluence people have, although we recognize that the qualities we value often are associated with financial affluence.  And we are realists.  And we are accustomed to (yet still are pained by) rejection.

Maybe you're 20 something.  Maybe you're 30 something.  Maybe you're in good health, came from a financially stable family, are a homemaker whose husband pays all the bills.   Maybe you work for "extras".  Maybe you think you're struggling because you want that nicer car, that nicer house, than the one you currently have.  Maybe you've been in a secure job for the last decade. Maybe your parents have paid your way.

Maybe you've never had a chronic illness.  Maybe you've never read the link I've placed in this blog, or my other blog, again and again.  You know:  The Spoon Theory.

Maybe you've never been turned down for a job because you were "overqualified", or didn't "fit the image our younger customers expect", or been told "we couldn't afford to pay you what you're worth".

I don't expect you to "get it".

Half of my doctors tell me I can go to work.  Half tell me I can't.  Social Security doctors have confirmed me as "disabled".  And my fragile finances are totally dependent on the system I've paid into since I was 11 years old.

I want to work.  Back in '91 when I was told by doctors that my lupus rendered me unsuitable to work, I went back to school, got a couple new degrees and a new career.  Starting over at 40 was tough, but doable.  Starting over at 50? I'm not so sure.

I lasted 3 years at work before my health interfered too much with what I was doing.  I spent more time sick than in the classroom.  Things got ugly, because I wanted so badly to hold on to my job.

I volunteer now.  A lot.  I don't expect you to get it. You tell me if I can volunteer, I can work.  But people won't pay me to come in when I want, do what I want, and go home when I want.  No one is going to tell me I can't volunteer anymore because I'm out for a day... a week... a month.  If I'm too sick, my blood sugar is too low, if I'm too tired, I can go home early without someone saying "this is the third time this month. Don't come back."

If you've never lost a job, if someone has always supported you, or if you flip burgers part time for a living I get that you don't get that being fired from a job because you're "unreliable" can put a damper on the odds of future employment.   If you've never needed Social Security or Medicare or Medicaid or public housing or Section 8 or HEAP or WIC or any other social programs to keep your head above water, I get that you don't get how long it takes to get on those, and how taking a job you're probably going to be fired from will set you back on waiting lists that can be years long, leaving you totally destitute in the meanwhile.

And you know what? I'm GLAD that you don't get it.  No one should have to. No one should have to not work when they want to.  No one should have to trade their self esteem, their sense of worth, of pride, and of accomplishment for health care and a roof over their head.  No one who's willing should ever be told: we don't have a place for you.

But this is reality, people.  And I get it.

I'd hoped that this post would be photos of the animals enjoying their Christmas goodies, but it was far too cold outside yesterday for the animals at the zoo to come out and enjoy their Christmas enrichment.

Today isn't much warmer, so we pretty much have been hanging out at home.  That's OK, because it's been a relaxing and drama-free holiday.

The girls got to open a few presents.  We're having a whole day of good food and Dr Who.  Yup, Christmas is good this year.

Let's face it, Christmas never goes as planned.  We all have these images in our head of the perfect Christmas: The family gatherings, the great food, the presents under the tree.  Some of us have lower expectations than others, but that doesn't mean those expectations are any easier to meet.

Tonight Cay has the sniffles and her temp is up again.  My mouth hurts.  And I really have no idea what we're going to put together for our Christmas meal.  Our traditional Christmas Breakfast Feast is out of the question.

Tomorrow our plans may be limited by the bus schedule and the weather.  I'm not going to walk sick kids home from Old Town late at night... and the way Cay's nose is running I'm not sure if we're going to make it to the zoo, either.

I'm watching TV about how gas prices are up, people are not finished with their Christmas shopping, and how the storm here in the state has slowed down travel on the I40.  I'm glad my expectations don't rely on any of that.

Here's what I'm hoping for this weekend:

-- The house to be clean.  The girls have been lax with their chores, and the best gift they can give me is to just clean up.  Nothing is more peaceful for me than knowing the apartment is tidy.

-- Good meals.  I haven't bought anything special except some crackers and a bottle of wine.  I do have a stuffed turkey breast in the freezer, and there are rolls we got from the food pantry.  There are some things I can throw together for a decent meal.  There area no deserts, nothing extra.  I just want it to FEEL special somehow.

-- A little Christmas cheer.  I know it's totally beyond my control, but I just want the girls to be happy and excited this weekend.  I feel like the Christmas spirit is all drained out of us.

--  Hope.  Part of me knows it's only going to go downhill from here.  I realize that I'm not going to be well enough to go back to work.  Social Security is NOT going to help with the increasing medical co-pays.  Section 8 is NOT going to really consider my medical costs when figuring my rent.  And basically I'm going to be living in poverty, worrying about where my food and medical care is going to come from for the rest of my life.  I'm not going to win the lottery.  No one is going to leave me a million dollars.  But I want to have hope that some day I'll be able to have some of the things on my Christmas wish list... even if that hope is in vain.

Right now the only hope I have is for the kids, that they do well in college, find meaningful jobs that will support them, and find relationships that are supportive and positive.  Is it too much to ask for a little hope for myself as well?

I don't want a lot.  A small home.  A fuel efficient car.  Some sense of stability.  At Christmas time I feel that lack of those things more keenly than other times.

(Yes, I pulled my previous sad "Dear Santa" post.  While I wanted to highlight the things we wish for... things a great deal less grand than jewelry and boats and fancy cars, I found my post a little depressing. I talked about basic shelter, food and transportation.  But what I want is more than the constant instability of Section 8, food pantries, and the bus system.  What I want is something of my own, where I have a comfortable life for the second half (ok... probably third), living on my own. )

I've thought a lot about what I want for Christmas, and since I figure I'll be getting a few cards, a necklace, and a piece of local art, I'll resign the rest of it to the realm of dreams.  But if dreams are for sharing, I thought I'd share what I REALLY want for Christmas:

Mileage: 7,573 Miles Body Style: Hatchback Exterior Color: Red Interior Color: Black Stock #: DPA553CM VIN: 3FADP4FJ7BM186324 Engine: 1.6L I4 16V MPFI DOHC Transmission: Automatic Drivetrain: FWD Doors: 4 Wheelbase: 98 Inches

 2.  THIS LITTLE HOUSE near the Nature Center.

Charming,stylish North Valley home and guest/studio. Large lush lot & great location blocks from Nature Center, Flying Star and La Montanita. 2 bedrooms, 2 full baths, hardwood floors, lots of light and high-end finishes all create a special feel. Luxurious master bath with vintage tub and closets galore. Studio/guest cottage provides great flexibility of use. Fully fenced front and backyard provides ample room to create any urban farm dreams;chickens, goats,organic garden,you name it!

OK... it's only 1290 sq feet, but that's more than TWICE what I'm working with now! and the yard and location? PERFECT!

 3.  THIS DOG, adoptable from Animal Humane.

Lilly, 2 year old cross breed up for adoption.

I think she'd be a perfect dog to walk the trails with, since the girls are leaving home soon.

At this time of year I often find myself thinking a lot about all this area has to offer me, and what's out there for me if I only had a little money.  I know I'm never going to find a car or a house under my Christmas tree, and not a dog while I'm in Section 8 housing, I'm afraid, but that doesn't mean I don't look... and hope.  After all, it's the season for dreams.