Jealousy and a Father’s Love
I run. Ok, honestly, I think about running while walking around my neighborhood in San Francisco. This is a green city as you might know. We compost everything here. But when I’m walking/thinking about running, I’m green—not in the way you think, not in the same way as my fascist environmentalist neighbors.
A sign of age, maybe. But I don’t think I’ve ever thought of myself as a jealous person before moving here. I never wanted what others had before because I never much thought about other people, in general.
As I’ve gotten married and had a child, my arse, which is where my head has resided for most of my life, is not an option. I have learned I need to be present. I need to think of someone other than myself. But if you broaden who you think about, who you care about, who you notice in the world, the width of that broader social net cannot be controlled. Sure, on the positive side of things, I think about my son and my wife and their needs, but on these walks I take, I also think about my neighbors and what they have and I wonder: do they need so much more than we do?
I’m not sure how to answer this. People have what they have and they take what they take. I’m not sure I want to get into the business of telling people that they have too much. So maybe the better way to express what I feel when I walk around the renovated Edwardians that surround my humble flat, is that I’m reminded just how far up my butt my head has been. In other words, what the hell have I been doing for the 40 years that make up my life?
I have, in no specific order been the following: a project manager, frozen yogurt pourer, telemarketer, sausage maker, assistant dean, high school teacher, college instructor, bagel baker, freelance musician, writer, grad student in religion, butler. And I moved furniture, too. A lot of stuff, right? Nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve never cheated or tried to get ahead by dishonest means. But at 40, I do not have much saved in the bank, I rent, and I have a little baby boy who I want desperately not to want for things. Oh, and I have a butt-load of debt from the fancy Ivy-League education I sport to no real utility.
I grew up poor. I always had food, so it wasn’t like I was that kind of poor you hear about in heart breaking detail on PBS. But my family didn’t have a lot, either. I’ve noticed this has affected me in different ways over the years: before getting married, it made me not fear being poor; in fact, it made me not care about money as a rule. But now as a father and a husband, I’ve noticed a new concern for money. I do not want my son to suffer the shame of not having much. He will have food and a place to live. I think I can say that without sounding overly confident. And though I do not need for him to have anything and everything he wants, I hate the idea that he cannot have a small yard to play in or a dog if he so chooses. I grew up in apartments. I’m an urban dweller, and apartments can be very nice. But as a child growing up in a mixed neighborhood in LA, I remember wanting more than anything to have a house like all of my classmates.
There’s a race component to this, I know it. I am Latino. I was one of three people of color in my gifted and talented elementary classes. One of two in my junior high school accelerated classes. One of one in my high school college prep classes. I’m a supporter of the ideal of public education because a poor kid like me got the same great stuff that my classmates from Malibu received (though since I graduated, Malibu kids have gotten their own high school leaving poor kids like me to a much worse education). But even if things were the same, there is a problem for kids like me, that type of kid who Richard Rodriguez and others call, the scholarship kid. When you get home, the class disparity kicks in, as does the shame.
I was ashamed of the dinginess of the apartment I grew up in. I did not invite my affluent/accelerated friends home. They didn’t get the poverty—the tiny rooms, and the fact that we took care of my older sister’s kids. My parents, especially my mother, did her best. And like I said, we didn’t go hungry. We had clothes. We had a roof that didn’t leak.
I know I’m probably sounding spoiled here. I know there are people who would’ve killed to have the few things I had as a child, but still, I don’t want The Boy, my boy, to feel this need. I will move mountains so he can go to a good school, I know I can do that. But then will history repeat itself? Will he be the scholarship kid ashamed of his humble flat?
As I walk/think-about-running the small mountains that make up the streets of my neighborhood, I think I’d love to move these mountains, as well, because I’m huffing and puffing, but also because I am looking at the homes around me like puzzles, and I’m annoyed. What are these owners of these lovely homes doing that I am not? I don’t think it’s about being smarter or harder-working? Or maybe it is. I’m not a tech-person, as many of them are. Mistake on my part? Does this choice lock me out of having a small home in these lovely hills?
I’m a teacher of poor kids, poor like I was. Though for reasons I won’t go into now, I know I can’t continue doing that. Do I have one more jump left in these walking/thinking legs? Maybe if I stop going on these damned green-walks, I will be better able to jump into a better, higher-paying career.
I hope so. I am getting ready to try. Wish me luck.
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What a great post. And so relevant to parenting. My sister’s family has so much and she doesn’t think they are wealthy (even though they are in the 1%). My family? Not so much. We struggle, we tell our kids they can’t have things unless they pay for them themselves. My dh and I go without things, which is hard for me ’cause I’m bipolar and need desperately to control my manic spending sprees. (I’m getting very good at keeping receipts and returning things!) I think my kids are getting good at being ok with where we are in the food chain. We aren’t poor, but could be at just about any minute. Good luck to you. Oh, and we had an apartment when we first got married that allowed dogs. Just sayin’.
i know. You’re right. I don’t think I’d want my boy to ever be spoiled or have a sense of entitlement. In fact, i can pretty much assure you that I would do anything in my power to teach the boy to know his humble roots and to not be awkward around people who are different. For me, that’s a real advantage to public school. I went to school with rich and poor kids and I’m comfortable in different settings.
Having to struggle to make ends meet is so very stressful. I’m sorry that you’re in this current situation. I feel for you. I’ve been there. It’s scary. You’re obviously very intelligent, hard working and have the love of a family. By some people’s standards you’re very rich. There are a lot of wealthy people that are poor in these things. Still, I know the feeling of wanting desperately for things to turn around and open up. Feeling powerless in your own life can taint all other aspects of your life. Try not to let that happen. I’ve found, in my own life, that putting some blinders on helps. Keep your eyes on the prize and try not to compare what you have with others. If we could see our lives through God’s eyes we might feel differently about things. Hopefully you can put some positive energy into enjoying the moments you have with your son. I wish you well!
i love the comment about God. I know you’re right. The spirit is strong, but the flesh? That’s a problem.
All the best!
I grew up without much. I have a pretty luxurious life now. It is tough seeing kids go though the same thing you do. I was abused. I can’t work abused kids, there are just too many triggers.
Beautiful blog post. ((hugs)) I think you should become a what my son wanted to be: A ninja architect astronaut spy, who catches balloons for kids when they float into the air.
OH, that’s wonderful. Tell your son he’s my hero. I would love to be an architect/spy/ who catches balloons. BTW, i wrote a story about catching balloons. I love that idea. http://www.g-martinezcabrera.com/portfolio/my-plan-to-save-the-world-from-balloon-loving-clouds-story-6/
This story is for him.
I will read it to him for sure.
Thanks for sharing it. I actually have his dream job written into my post for tomorrow, though since I write humor that is a bit iffy I am careful about mentioning him. So I just listed the job.
thanks for taking the time to share.
x,
Becca
Ladyornot.com
As a parent I understand the “need” we have in wanting to give our children the best of everything. Material things are nice, make life easier but at the end of the day what The Boy will remember is did you listen, talk, love, care about him. ..
I know. I often look at my GED students and I think that if their parents would just have been able to show a little more care, these kids would be in a better place. Not trying to be naive. There’s a lot more to the problem, but love is a big help. Thx, as always, for reading.
I think you might be looking at this the wrong way.
Why not instead strive to teach your son that the house isn’t important. That there isn’t anything wrong with living in an apartment. That it isn’t what makes a home, a family and that there is nothing to be ashamed of? That worth and value are not determined by the monetary values of how much money you make or what you own.
Teach him from your life not to go to the ivy league college and not to take the loans – not to buy into the status symbols that when it comes down to the nitty gritty of life are really vastly unimportant. Enrich his life with experiences, teach him patience and understanding, compassion and the notion of freedom that you can only really have when you have nothing restricting you.
What we really want out of life is not that plot of land or the house that sits on it – we want the happiness and freedom that we perceive those things to grant – when mostly they do the opposite.
Thx for the comments. If nothing else, blogs are a place for communication and for exchanging ideas.
I will admit that I’m of two minds on what you wrote. If I can be honest, I was a little angry at first, which, arguably, is a sign that I know you’re right. But as I say that, I can’t shake the sense that your comments, though lovely and wise, are a bit off. I think that the wisdom of what you say is obvious, but at the same time, it seems disconnected from the reality of the situation. For example, though at one level, I agree that I would want to teach my son not to be caught up with the status of an Ivy League school, I would also argue that there’s some virtue to person of color going to that Ivy League school. Why should Harvard be for wealthy (mainly white kids)? I could tell my kids not to care, but the fact is they have to deal in a world that does care about status.
I want to take what you say wholeheartedly. I’m not a religious person, but it breaks my heart when people divide themselves by things like race or creed. I think we all need to be brothers and sisters in spirit. We should be wise and leave concerns about status aside. But as I said in my post, I cannot completely do this because I don’t think I should give up the chance to raise my boy in a beautiful city because a lot of rich (and mainly white) people are buying me out.
I guess the issue is one of spirit v. the flesh, to put in somewhat Christian terms. Your words are food for the former, but they are thin gruel for the latter. Just some thoughts. In the end, I do appreciate your comments and thank you for reading.
“I would also argue that there’s some virtue to person of color going to that Ivy League school. Why should Harvard be for wealthy (mainly white kids)? I could tell my kids not to care, but the fact is they have to deal in a world that does care about status.”
I suppose I just don’t care much about such things. Instead of wondering why Harvard should be for the wealthy and mainly white kids, why not instead wonder if it’s really anything special at all. I would say, it’s not. It is special because it is elite.. it is elite because it is expensive. It’s an artificial symbol of superiority. It’s like a country club. It’s certainly not worth a pile of debt to get someone elses approval. That debt will only affect your life, not theirs. Your son will be virtuous regardless of who else knows it. He will determine that, not the school he goes to. By making it more virtuous for him to go to a wealthy mainly white school, you are only enforcing the idea that those things are indeed superior.
The people who care about status are typically the ones who want to prove their own superiority. The ones who want to justify their own decisions and belittle those who do differently.
“But as I said in my post, I cannot completely do this because I don’t think I should give up the chance to raise my boy in a beautiful city because a lot of rich (and mainly white) people are buying me out.”
I agree with you. I disagree with the assertion that that needs to include purchasing a house vs living in an apartment (I understand the rent prices are currently absurd there. So are the housing prices though.)
I am like you, completely non-religious. I assure you, i’m not delusional in my views of the world. I just think that it’s a system set up to keep us enslaved to and for things that do very little to increase our happiness. We’re driven to want not out of actual desire but out of learned desire.
I understand that my views on this are part of the minority. I’m still struggling to sufficiently articulate my thoughts and feelings on some of it and I may fail at points, but I hope you understand that I say these things without malice.
You sound like a dedicated and caring father who wants to give his son the best, but you suffer doubt about your capacity to do so because you’re surrounded by so much affluence. I was born and raised in San Francisco in an apparently long gone era where middle class meant just that i.e., neither rich nor poor, but in-between the two financial poles. The rich kids I knew seemed like the most dysfunctional people in the world, and their parents seemed, at least to me, predominantly to blame. There was often such a vast disconnect between them and their kids that I was fortunate not to have with my mom and dad. When I was a teen I frequently clashed with my parents, but always at the core, there was immense love and respect, and for me, a good foundation to proceed with the course of my life. That’s not something you can buy like a mansion in Pacific Heights, but that sounds like something you have the capacity to give as a father by your example, and that is invaluable. Material wealth can make life easy, but emotional well being that comes from nurturing is nothing to sneeze at, either. You sound like a really bright guy to me; someone that will find the middle ground that will provide your son with the foundation that will make him a man that will make you proud. I wish you well.
You are kind. Thanks for your well-wishes and your thoughts.
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