Don’t Look Down, it’s a Long, Long Way To Fall* a blast from the past from November7,2013
I confess yesterday I was very depressed. I don’t think it came across how depressed I was – I was trying to be reasonable and being, by nature, depressive, I’m aware of how to compensate for depression – but I was. Between certain speculations on who will run against Hilary in 16, which prompted me to say “In that case, I don’t have a dog in that fight,” and “let it burn” there was an article about how thoroughly screwed my kids’ generation is.
The article was written from the POV of “you bought this, you voted for this buffoon.”
Except that not all of them did, of course. (At least I hope not.) When I was manning the phones, many people my kids’ age were there and they were fully aware of what waited them if the buffoon won.
So to have them be told “you’ll never pay your student debts, you’ll never have a decent job, you’ll never be anything but some sort of retail aid, no matter how brilliant or what your degree is” depresses me. It depresses me more than it would if you told me that I had no hopes of ever getting anywhere. Because I know my limitations. I’ve stared my potential failure in the face. I don’t even expect full success at this point, just “not dying” as far as career goes. I’m me, I can cope with that. But not my kids. I’ve known them all my life, I know their potential. Yes, I’m their mother, but I see their failings too –but they’re not the sort of failings that should consign them to a life as debt slaves. They’re hard workers, they’re focused, they’re battlers.
Don’t tell me “But they’ll be all right then.” Meh. Guys, I grew up in a country where my limitations were stark and clear. For instance, I never considered writing as more than an hobby, because in Portugal it wouldn’t be. The excuse is that the population is too small to support full time writers without government grants and stuff. I call poppycock. The population is large enough for writers – multiple – to earn a living. I suspect the Portuguese publishing industry is even more effed up than ours. Not that it matters to me at this point, except if I had money – like, if I won the lottery – I’d start an ebook publisher publishing exclusively in Portuguese and serving the entire Portuguese speaking world. License to coin money – maybe – but above all a chance to destroy the entrenched publishers in Portugal. (Okay, I was born a trouble maker. Deal.)
And I knew just how far my lifestyle could go, and where it was limited. In the same way, even in the States, my generation’s chances have been limited in comparison to the older boomers (which fuels some of the generational hatred on blogs.) Inevitable given their population-bulge and the fact they were post war babies. (It’s really not their fault, not even the lefties. We just like slapping them. But it’s irrational.) We have friends who are ten years older than us who never had to make as many sacrifices, and who are looking at retirement. We aren’t. By the time we came along the housing market had been inflated, and a lot of our work has been running to stay in place.
What I mean – I don’t want to start boomer bashing, so please none of that in the comments. It really is a matter of chance. No one chose this – is that when you are born and when you come of age, and when you enter the work force shapes your life and limits your choices.
And d*mn it, I don’t want my kids’ limited.
So, I was a wee bit depressed. Sort of.
You see guys, I have some insight you don’t have. Some insight I’m sure those who want to bring us to the level of “other countries” don’t have, because they’re pampered little snowflakes, whose pampered paws never touched hard ground – and it’s encapsulated in that title above, which I woke up with it running through my head, “Don’t look down. It’s a long, long way to fall.”
Look, I grew up upper middle class. I also grew up dirt poor. Yes, both are true. For the village we were “of good families.” My family had never been barefoot laborers, we owned land. We didn’t own enough land to amount to anything but a small farm, but… And my grandfather was a skilled worker – a cabinet maker – and my grandmother ran her own business (would you believe hand painting/building cosmetic boxes?) Yeah. And my dad had a college education and a white collar job. And all the grandkids attended college. (Though a couple didn’t finish.)
We were not “peasants.” I doubt we ever had been. All my ancestresses as far back as memory stretches knew how to read, which is not normal in Portuguese peasants. And we had some nice China and stuff.
So, why do I say we were dirt poor? Oh. Well, there was the three suits of clothing, one for best, one for everyday and one for rough. (We might have had double that, because mom made them, but honestly, she stored ALL our clothes – for the four of us — in ONE dresser and one wardrobe, when my brother was a teen, and I was little.) I had a never ending succession of pinafores, which is what I wore to keep the “good clothes” clean. There was the ONE alarm clock in the house, which had to be moved around depending on who needed to get up (and for these purposes the “house” included my grandmother’s next door.
But perhaps nothing will encapsulate it as well as the fact that it was normal, both from my family and other middle class families to take a sweater apart, re-dye the yarn, and make a “new” sweater. You could go three or four rounds before the yarn itself became too bad to use.
Relatives from abroad brought us chocolates as gifts when they visited. You know, your normal multi-square candy bar. We hoarded it like gold, and ate a square or two a month. (Yes, there’s Portuguese chocolates. I believe they are categorized as soap. Or were, at the time.)
I don’t say that to induce pity. We were neither conscious of being poor nor were we in bad shape in relation to other people. On the contrary. And in a comparison either with the world or with historic norm, we were rich. Rich beyond the dreams of avarice.
This is something that shocks Americans born-and-bred. But it is true.
We are so rich that even the rich of other countries don’t fully get us. They don’t see how well off we are. They don’t see how our MIDDLE CLASS lives better than their upper classes. Sometimes, and in some things, better than their middle class could dream.
Portugal is considerably better off (technically, though it’s all apparently borrowed money) now, but still, guys, I’ll be blunt with you. I’ve been to their grocery stores, and I don’t know how people live. I know what they make, and their salaries seem to range about half of ours, but everything – EVERYTHING – is in a smaller package and costs more.
I submit to you a lot of our stupidity is the stupidity of the well off. You can decide to be vegan – if you have enough money. You can be very tolerant of stupid people yelling at you for being imperialistic, if they don’t destroy your way of life. You can pick odd styles of dress and “go back to nature” because you have enough money and because other people are well off enough they don’t care.
That I’m very much afraid is coming to an end. I’m not a clairvoyant, if I were I would not have spent two years trying to break into short stories and twelve years trying to keep a foot in other-publishers-than-Baen. I’d simply have gone Baen only twelve years ago and right now would have piles and piles of mysteries to go up.
But I do have the ability to get pictures in my head that describe a situation. Sometimes a situation I can’t explain rationally, and one no one believes me on. When I first came into publishing, I could see it as a rotten ladder, breaking low and middle. If I got to the top, I’d be safe, but there was no path there.
Everyone kept telling me I was seeing what wasn’t there. “Publishing has always been in trouble. It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay. The combination of consolidated publishing houses and big bookstores was killing the field, low and middle, and only the darlings survived (but lost readership every book.)
The image in my mind right now, with this Obamacare insanity, is of someone taking a car that is barely running, opening the hood and pouring a few buckets of fresh cement over the engine.
Don’t look down. It’s a long, long way to fall.
And as I said, the prospects for my kids, and for all the bright kids of their generation HURT me.
But we’re all born where we are and even I can only do so much to prepare the kids, and to ensure they’re not hurt by this. And cr*p like what is already in the pipe and flowing at us? It’s going to hurt EVERYONE.
However, I’m no longer depressed. I’m no longer depressed because… well… turn that around. “It’s a long, long way to fall.”
We could lose half of our easy wealth and we’d still be better off than 90% of the world (let alone history) and that’s if THEY don’t fall too.
And that’s the other reason. The crap that’s flowing down the pipe? It’s going to hit the whole world. America is a late-buyer into teh shiny (I typed that initially whiny) of socialism. Which is why we’re the world’s largest consumer and the best well off. And the shiny is running out of other people’s money all over the world, because the system promotes redistribution, not creation of wealth, which means people slowly get poorer.
America is going to hurt. I’m not going to lie to you. Are we going to hurt as much as the rest of the world? Impossible. Wealth doesn’t vanish over night. Look, I think I admitted to you before I buy most of my clothes from thrift stores. This is something that’s not even really available in other countries (oh, yes, it exists, but there isn’t that much surplus.) Nine times out of ten the clothes I buy are new, sometimes still with labels. Someone bought them/got them as a gift, and either gained/lost weight and never wore them. I think it’s expensive to pay $10 for a pair of designer jeans. I wait for the half price sale. This is only possible in a VERY wealthy country. And that wealth won’t vanish. Not for a decade or two. The surplus is still around.
There is another reason – when societies are shocked, they revert to their founding myth. It’s not by chance that things like Golden Dawn are resurgent in Europe. A lot of the countries are going to revert to their founding myth which is both racist and triumphalist.
BUT that’s not our founding myth. We were founded in liberty. Yes, there are many who think this mean “liberty to have everything I want given to me.” But those are not the active, able people. Those who can stay on their feet during the tumble are people like us, who believe in individual liberty.
Is this guaranteed? Oh, h*ll no. We could end up with a strong man. (Only we won’t. We’re ungovernable, as the idiots at the top are finding out. A state or two could go for a strong man. The rest of us? — pah.)
The statists think out of disorder will come communism. Guys. Remember they’re a religion. A particularly dopey one. There’s almost no chance of that, because communism requires a strong man. The current buffoon ain’t it. Nor are any of the people around him. And given present-day America, there might be no one strong enough.
My biggest fear is that we’re wealthy enough to limp along another three generations, by which time we would be tenderized as it were, for the “Strong man.”
Bah. Won’t happen. They want the full socialist shiny and they want it now. They’re pouring the cement over the car, because the engine is still running. And if it stops – communism! (The poor dears never get over the idea that the starving masses are JUST waiting for the intellectuals to lead the revolution. Poor num’kins.)
A rebirth of liberty is far more likely than communism. And it something we can fight and work for.
As for my kids and their future? Well! Who in the depths of Carter foresaw the Reagan boom. And guys, if we can arrange for a boom now, it will be bigger and better than Carter. Has to be. Like after WWII, the rest of the world will be in a shambles. Which is why my kids are so lucky to be American.
Is this pie in the sky? Not hardly. You’re going to have to work for this one.
First, the preparation for the crash, which you should already be making: pay off/streamline/prepare.
Then the preparation for the resurgence: this has to do with what makes us uniquely American and I can’t give you instructions because I’m not there. Which is good. You’re Americans. Make your own instructions. “An Army of Davids” – what the man said.
Roll up your sleeves and see what you can do – ideally what will make you money (multiple streams of income) and also keep things going. If you don’t have my brown thumb and have land, growing some food might not be amiss (I think food will get expensive and there will be disruptions in delivery.) If you have the time and the inclination, learn how to keep cars running. People are going to be holding onto them for longer, and it will be needed. Other stuff like that – not preparation for the stone age, but for the conveniences getting more expensive and harder to find. Figuring out how to keep computers running, or small appliances, might not be a bad idea either, though there is a lot of wealth between us and new ones being utterly unaffordable. Learn to cook from scratch if you don’t know how. Learn to make bread by hand. Flour is cheap. So is rice. (I wish I could have either.)
I’m a fairly useless person, other than telling stories and doing some art, but yes, I’m working on both of those. People don’t live from bread alone. They’re still going to need entertainment.
My kids are in STEM degrees and hopefully they’ll find jobs, but if not… well… I told them my best advice, the one that kept me working throughout 10 years in which everyone in the publishing field except Baen seemed to be actively trying to sideline me: I won’t die. Even if they kill me.
I’m now giving that advice to all of you – and to America in general. Refuse to die. Even if they kill you. (Metaphorically speaking, of course, though if you find how to do the other, do let me know.)
It might be, and I always certainly guarantee will be, that you’ll hit the wall on what you’ve done all your life; what you know how to do. Don’t sit there and go “it’s all over.” Despair is a sin. It’s also a sure route to utter destruction.
Instead, go “I won’t die, even if they kill me.” Find new ways to do what you love, or find something new to do.
Go under, go around, go over. Use their regulations against them. And never give up.
Don’t look down. It’s a long way to fall. Fortunately, we’re on the high wire, and as long as we keep moving and doing, we’ll be fine.
*Give me a break okay? The furniture refinishing mysteries will ONLY be written to Evita. Other music, nothing happens. And then you guys wonder why I cry, bitch and moan about writing another of those.