The Ruling Class and Me

I've been so upset with my president. Come on Barack, don't you know that we don't negotiate with terrorists, or they'll just take hostages again?

And I'm sorry to family and friends who are on the other side of the aisle, but I have lost all compassion and faith for anyone who has ever voted for a Republican, ever. It's been nice knowing you and I wish you well in life, but buzz off. Now.

Here's the thing. I work hard. My husband works hard, get this--for the government--keeping planes safe and flying--he's gone every day for at least 12 hours and he often works at home, too. And yes there is no pay raise for the next two years so if he doesn't look for a job in industry that offers bonuses and actual cost of living increases I might just scream, but anyway.....we make a fine living. We're compensated pretty fairly for what we do. I work for a non-profit which by it's nature is lower paying than a business type job, but still, we are not wealthy but you'd think we'd be solidly middle class. And really, we are.

But here's the other thing: we're members of the screwed generation. Our parents graduated from high school, got jobs, worked. They had families and a nice house in the suburbs. They worked a fair day for fair pay. They had whole weekends off with two days in a row when they didn't have to work. It was rare that they had to go to work in the dark AND come home in the dark. They were able to pay for the medical procedures and services that they needed. They went on nice vacations, they had two cars each and then they retired at age 55. Nice.

And not happening for us. My parents never had high level bosses that made an obscene salary or benefits that were fit for royalty. Of course, we don't either! My boss drives a 15 year old car because she's a dear. But the wage disparity between the ruling class and the rest of us is grossly unfair.

"During the late 1980s and the late 1990s, the United States experienced two unprecedentedly long periods of sustained economic growth—the "seven fat years" and the " long boom." Yet from 1980 to 2005, more than 80 percent of total increase in Americans' income went to the top 1 percent." from New York Times columnist Paul Krugman. 


And we feel it, don't we? The buying power of a regular paycheck seems to diminish every year. Groceries feel like a bigger hit, any home improvement projects need to be carefully planned, and furnishings are kept in service past a broken frame and a threadbare cushion. And if you're going to talk tuition to a four year institution, well, it's a huge hit. Huge.


Of course these people, these very wealthy people who give huge sums to politicians are pressuring the people in power. They don't want to have to budget for what they want. They don't want to choose between a crown for a broken tooth and carpeting. They want to continue to live a life of privilege. These are the wealthy who just bullied their way to a tax cut. A tax cut. During a time of war. Where is their patriotism? Where is their 40s style commitment to 70% taxes because it was the right and honorable thing to do--a privilege even--that's the way the wealthy viewed it then. 


I am reminded of "The Good Earth" and "The Grapes of Wrath" and the lessons from the Great Teacher (that's what Unitarian Universalists often call Jesus of Nazereth). The money and gross privilege eventually becomes a target. And people who have nothing for their children eventually rise up. 


I've had Pete Seeger songs running through my head all day. And while I find some gross problems with some of the power and money held by unions, it seems that working class folks banding together and saying "enough" is the only way to end the power and inequity wielded by the wealthy. I love the lyric I found in the original version of "Which Side Are You On" by Florence Reece 


"Their children live in luxury, our children almost wild" 


Still fits. 

The most important things

There have been some interesting conversations zooming around UUCyberland. Class! Entitlement! Radical Hospitality! And how do we all, we funky, broken, well intentioned lovely humans do this? This living in community without hurting each other?

Oh my, if you think I have the answer you really better hit the back button and go on to the next blog. I don't.

I do know that in our quest to be a deep, spiritually meaningful religion we sometimes look for validation in places that feel real and solid, like rock under our feet.

I think this is part of our focus on Transylvania "See? We're not some fru-fru, fly-by-night religion!" No we're not, and yes we have beautiful roots and they do not justify our existence, we don't need justification. We're fine as is.

This could be where our focus on credentials and labels and degrees comes from as well. Education, of course, is very important, and no I do not want an under educated physician. But some of the wisest folks I know have almost no formal education. They listen to their hearts and to the wind and to the person sitting in front of them. We Unitarian Universalists may just be trying to prove that we really are a worthy group, "See all our degrees? All our labels? See who we are? See? We must be OK. We have letters!"

No. As Mister Rogers would say "they're just beside you".

For years at the General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association ministers would have a box to check to add "Rev." to their name tag, but Religious Educators would have to enter their name as "Joe Blow, DRE" to have the appropriate title displayed on their name tag. Last year, or maybe the year before they added a box for us, although not all our combinations and permutations (LRE, DFM, DLRE, etc...).

Maybe as step one this year at G.A. we could all just be "Joe Blow." Person. Unitarian Universalst. Body and Soul.

Class and the Country Club on the 4th of July

So somehow I accidentally joined a country club this summer. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm clinging to my working class roots like a kudzu vine, but somehow...yeah, it's a golf and country club. And I'm a member.

See, my two older sons were looking for a swim team. Not that kind of team with twice daily three-hour practices that steals your whole summer, but a summer league team that is just fun and friends and a good work out.

We found a good one, close to home, one hour practices and meets with THEMES! Like red-white-and blue meet! Yeay. When I went over to register and there was the sign right on the door with the rules about no jeans, and closed toe shoes and all, well I knew: Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore.

And really, it's been fine. It's a chance to sort out my deeply held prejudices about class. At the PNWD AGM Professional Day this winter we had this fantastic day-long workshop about class. Let me just say that Cathy Cartwright from Portland First is a genius and I adore her. But what I realized in that workshop is that while I FEEL like I grew up in a working class family, really by the time I was a kid, my family was pretty well off in a lot of ways. My parents put in an in-ground pool when I was 12. We did go on some kind of vacation every year. There was some expectation that I would go to college. If you've done these workshops you remember the "sorting" kind of questions. Yeah, not working class-blue collar, anymore.

But, man, I still have those blue collar feelings! And even though my husband and I are comfortable (of course thanks much more to his job than mine!) I still sit at these meets at the country club in my little folding chair and watch kind of like a refugee might in a new land. Not quite sure what's going on, but watching all the time.

And so, during yesterday's Red-White and Blue extravaganza meet at a lovely outdoor pool on a lovely day, I got to thinking about class, and our country celebrating our Independence Day and being an American. And I thought about my "Expecting Congregation" ideas and what it means to be of one class or another coming into our congregation. Clearly, I'm not feeling very welcome in this country club world. Is that how people feel when they walk into our congregation--especially if they feel like we're all well off financially?

I think the worst mistake we make in our churches is to ignore class. It's like ignoring race or ignoring gender or sexual identity. We have so much shame about class in our country, because we're supposed to be the land of the free, home of the brave, where everyone and anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and opportunity is everywhere. But shame and ignoring it, don't make it go away.

It's as real as the restriction on denim at my country club.

MORE things to think about here on my month off! Oh well, it's good work, if you can get it! ***"Smiling sigh!"***

Happy Independence Day!

Follow Kari's Trip to GA

White Girl Goes to Florida

Last night began with a nice little bit of time in schmancy lounge my husband's job buys him a membership to; the World Club in the Seattle Airport.









After my red eye flight (in first class because there was room there) and my nice layover in Minneapolis with a friend, I flew into Miami. Flying stand-by you have to be super flexible. The flight to Fort Lauderdale was just packed with folks, and the flight to Miami had a little room, so I went to Miami. I know that there is a train that takes you right to Fort Lauderdale. I know that some people don't feel comfortable on the train, but hey, I've taken it with my kids even years ago when they were little, and it didn't bother me.

Today I got off my flight in Miami, grabbed a little lunch and headed for the bus that takes you to the Tri Rail station. It was hot, super hot and I waited with a bunch of other folks about 20 minutes in the heat for the bus. Then it was another 15 minutes for the train. No air conditioning, not even real shade. Just waiting in the heat.

Man, the train was dirty with windows smeared with grit and grime. Seemed like all the tourists went to the upper deck and the locals stayed on the lower. That felt creepy to me, so I stayed on the lower level. As we rocked and rolled down the track thru Miami you could see buildings with caved in roofs, flat roofed apartments with yards of dirt littered with old cars and old furniture. There were neighborhoods with three ramshackle churches and nothing else--kids riding their bikes down the middle of the street because there were no cars. There were no businesses, just shut up apartments that looked tired and sorry.

I felt my white privilege all over my face. And my class advantage dripped off me with the sweat.

As we went north the graffiti got neater and more creative. Things were tidy and painted, more businesses open, less warehouse for rent signs out. I could tell when we'd crossed over when there was a tall attractive wall between the train track and the life on the other side. Sure, there was still graffiti, but now it was 3-D lettering and whole landscape panels on the wall.

Then came golf courses and suburban looking neighborhoods with lots of nice cars waiting for the train gates to lift. It was like you'd crossed over from East to West Germany back when they were separated by barbed wire. There was no barbed wire here, I don't think you need it. Privilege flies you right over pretty much any fence anyone can build, and lack of privilege, well, doesn't take a fence to keep people down when no one knows where to look for the step that goes up.

After another bus and a taxi ride, I was finally at my hotel. I checked in and chatted with the desk attendant about how tired we both were. She was kind and walked me thru all the perks--managers reception with free cocktails (not for me, I'm a youth sponsor this year) free made to order breakfast, free high speed internet because we have "gold elite" status on our frequent hotel-stayer program. And when I opened the door to my suite I was blown away. I chose this place because it was one of the cheaper options, had a free breakfast and maybe I could eek out a free appetizer dinner from the nightly reception, and it would give me free internet because of the gold status. But the room blew me away. Our whole youth group could stay here. Hey, half our CHURCH could stay here!









But I can stay here because I know these things, I know to ask these things. I know to sign up for these things. And although in my early married years I painted apartments to pay rent and once even had a garage sale to pay rent, I now have the class and I've always had the color privilege that allows me to access all of this.

Wildest of all, as I sit here in extreme comfort, there was a knock on the door.... a gift for the gold member.












I hope this week helps me figure out what to do with all of this. Well, not the popcorn in the little goody bag. That I'm eatin'! But the other stuff, the other stuff.