Like a Drunken Sailor

Dearest Rachel –

Most people would rather not be thought of as profligate when it comes to their spending habits; I certainly don’t. Sure, my family raised me to be generous with regard to giving (and I’ll get to that later on), but they also taught me to be prudent with what money came my way, as we had several periods in my life when they had to watch every penny that was coming in and going out. You couldn’t just be throwing money around like a drunken sailor.

But I’ll admit, that’s sort of what things felt like I was doing last Monday, both intentionally and not. There’s literally something about that afternoon for everybody to find something to disapprove of, including you.

Let me start with the accidental; that way, I can get your disapproval out of the way first thing. After my customary weekly walk with Lars, followed by a fairly hearty brunch (which I only ate half of, so not everyone is going to express disapproval of me), I made my way to Meijer to pick up groceries (in particular, we were out of milk. You might recall how it used to be a close thing for us to use a gallon – or even a half gallon – before the expiry date; thanks to Logan, that’s no longer a problem. Not that I mind; I’m much happier to see it go to use, rather than going to waste). As it so happened, I had several coupons that were on the verge of expiring as well. And since I didn’t want to lose out on them, I figured it best to go while I was thinking of it (and while I had at least one thing in mind to get).

Of course, even a gallon of milk comes nowhere near the amount I have in the way of coupons; I would have to fill the basket with quite a bit more, even at today’s inflated prices. Not that it was that difficult, really. I can always find something to stuff the cart with, be it candy for the church’s Halloween festival, or little tortillas to make into handheld pizzas, or even the occasional snack or treat. So in almost in no time, I had enough to take to the checkout, at which point I reached into my back pocket for the coupons…

…only to find it empty. I’d either lost them, or they’d been picked out of my pocket.

You would at least have been pleased to see that I retrace my steps thoroughly, checking as to whether they might have fallen out on the floor. I suspect you would probably have been less pleased by the fact that I ultimately brought everything to the counter, checked it all out, and paid full price for them. You would’ve been the one to go to customer service, ask if anything had been turned in, and (when that inevitably failed, since there’s no way to identify one page of coupons from another – anyone can use them, is what I’m saying) putting several of the more extraneous items back on the shelves before checking out – all while still feeling a bit sick about losing those thirty dollars worth of coupons.

You were always fearless when it came to what I considered to be ‘making a scene.’ Not that you actually were, exactly – we’ve both spent enough time on the internet (places like Reddit and Not Always Right) to understand what a ‘Karen’ is, and that you never could be one – but you would ask for assistance when you felt the need and I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I’d like to think I’m not the stereotypical man who can’t ask for directions when he’s lost (not that that’s much of an issue anymore, thanks to Google Maps and the like), but I’ve never been much for requesting aid in a situation like this – partly because, as I implied earlier, I don’t think there would be anything anyone could do to help in this case. What were they going to do? Just give me the discount, without proof of having had the coupons in hand? Yeah, no.

So the next question you would probably ask me is, why did I keep everything, when I knew I would still have to pay for it all? And that’s difficult to answer without sounding a bit flippant. To say it would be “too much like work,” as Ellen is fond of putting things like this, seems overly dismissive, but it’s probably comes closest to my take on the situation at the time. I wasn’t just putting these things in the cart to reach that $30 threshold; I think that deep down, I really wanted them, and I wasn’t going to take them back because of that.

Besides, when you come down to it, although we never did and never could (and probably never should – just because we can afford to pay, say, $10 a gallon for milk doesn’t mean we ought to, especially when it can be had for a third of that) get used to it, this is something we can bear now. There are a lot of amounts that once seemed daunting that we – okay, I, I guess – are now little more than trifling. I’ve talked a lot about those alleged girls online, and how what they were asking for was always fairly minimal, when it came down to things. Compared to the hits our portfolio gets every month these days, what I would lose on them would be practically nothing. And yet, the value for money on such a transaction tends to give one pause.

Which brings me to the other topic, that of Twofeathers. She actually called me while Lars and I were out walking, at which point I was reminded that I hadn’t sent her her monthly stipend. Not that I have an obligation to as such, but I suspect that you would have me continue this out of respect for you and your parents, and all that she did for them back in the day. And considering that this legacy, when you go back to it, is theirs, that seems only fair.

A ·wise [insightful] servant will rule over the master’s disgraceful child
and will even ·inherit a share of what the master leaves his children [^Ldivide an inheritance with the brothers/relatives].

Proverbs 17:2, Expanded Bible

It’s that rationale that we would use between ourselves upon leaving her and Stan the house, along with regular funds to make sure they could keep up the house (although applying the terms ‘disgraceful’ to you seems a bit over-the-top, even if you did occasionally behave like the stereotypical spoiled only child back in the day; it’s not as if Twofeathers ever had to deal with you back then).

Still, even my parents – who taught me to be generous when I could be, and tithe regularly regardless of my circumstances – expressed concern to the both of us that we might be on the hook for the rest of our lives – or theirs. And I confess to not being sure if they weren’t right; every time she calls, there’s something new going on, between both of their weakening health, her job situation (such as it can be, given her mobility) and issues with their kids. This time, it was the middle option, as corporate is supposedly shutting down the fast food place she’s been working at. So they’re in yet another tight spot. I do find myself wondering how things like this keep happening to them. Everything seems to be constantly on the verge of all falling apart. I’ve read enough to know that this is kind of what life can be like on the edge of poverty; any issue, no matter how small, can be disastrous, when it would be no more than a minor annoyance to those in our situation.

You might remember some of the stories my dad would tell about some of his well-heeled clients, and the houses and lives they lived in. Often times, he would interject the line “that’s how the other half lives” to describe them. But honestly, I think we live closer to that ‘other half’ (which is probably closer to the other 10%, if not less than that) than we do to Twofeathers and her family – to say nothing of the nurses she used to supervise, back when they cared for your folks. And so, while it sometimes feels like I’m throwing money away like a sailor on a spree, it’s doing someone, somewhere some good.

Heck, I hope whoever found ’em got to use those coupons; odds are, they needed to more than we did.

Anyway, take care of yourself, honey. Keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’ll need it – although, not as much as some others I can think of.