Monday, Monday

Yesterday I was at a party in SF and unlike my usual party persona, I actually talked to people I didn't know.  The fact that I was wearing my black chef's coat helped, of course.  It makes me look sort of official and it helps me feel like I am someone other than my reclusive self.

It seemed as if everyone I spoke to had a story.  You know how it goes, you say hello to someone you don't know,  there are a few awkward seconds until one of you asks something inane like "How are you connected to this family?" and then the conversation moves a small step forward.  Since it is the holiday season, everyone initially seems in good spirits, talking about the rain and wind, how they had to circle the block ten times but then they got the perfect parking space, how lovely the lights look on the house across the street.  Just chatter.  After a few minutes of this, however, the conversation took a different turn.

People at parties often ask where you live, if you live in the city or somewhere else.  That question was the real conversation starter.  For me, it is a tough one to answer.  I don't feel like I really live in Daly City yet, but it is where I reside for now.  Saying I recently moved from Marin County to Daly City prompted the next inquiry:  "Why?"  Responding that I moved in with my son and his wife because I have been out of work for 15 months and could no longer afford to live in Marin caused many people to nod knowingly and begin to tell their stories about the same kinds of situations.

I talked to young families who moved back to the Bay Area from other states and could not afford rent and were therefore living with their parents for the short-term.  I spoke to small business owners who had laid people off because of lack of business and who were obviously still grappling with the emotional and psychological effects of doing so.  Many people were in the same situation as me, unemployed and looking for work but luckily had husbands or wives or mates who still worked and they were just barely making ends meet.  Two different people were living with an elderly parent, acting as the caretaker.  One woman was caring for her mother in the final stages of cancer.  Another was dealing with a son who had, eight weeks ago, been in a terrible motorcycle accident and no one knew yet how much his brain injury would be permanent or how much function he would regain.

Story after story.  There were people who had good stories, too, people who finally sold their houses and were able to get out from under that financial burden or a person who finally, after nine months, got a great job.  There were several kids running around the house and the sound of their uninhibited laughter was a story all on its own, one of innocence and freedom.  That was one of the best unspoken stories, of course.

But I was struck by how almost every person I spoke to was dealing with something tough or had just overcome a huge hurdle.  Almost all of these difficulties were directly related to the economic mess our country is currently in.  Whether it was unemployment or housing or health or business problems, almost no one was unaffected.  

We read in the newpapers and we hear on the evening news all about unemployment, health care, the economy and how nothing will get better in the near future.  But we don't often talk directly to people who are in the midst of dealing with these issues. We know about them and we read their stories but we simply do not hear their voices out loud often enough.  I heard those voices yesterday in a city where houses still sell for millions of dollars.  If I can hear them in San Francisco, where the unemployment rate is around 10%, think of how loud those voices must be in places like Merced and Stockton, with rates near 16%, or Yuma, Arizona, with unemployment rates over 25%.

More to follow.