We were at the baggage claim, standing back, watching everyone attack the front of the conveyor belt to retrieve their bags. "Look at this," he said. "Look at these people. They're all so hungry to fetch their own two big bags of luggage, but nobody cares about that little old lady over there who is struggling with just her one. Ha. That's life for ya.""This book looks pretty cool," I said as I picked up a copy of Adam Shepherd's book Scratch Beginnings off the recommended reading table at David Kidd. It wasn't a typical case of judging a book by its cover but more by its subtitle - Me, $25, and the Search for the American Dream. I picked it up, read the summary on the back cover, and bought it. Thanks, Davis Kidd, for the recommendation.
I highly recommend that you pick up this book, but I will give you a quick overview to bring some context to this post. Adam Shepherd graduated from Merrimack College in Massachusetts in 2006 with his BBA in Management. After reading Barbara Ehrenreich's book Nickel and Dimed, Shepherd disagreed with her negative perception about the hopelessness of America's working class, so he set out to disprove her theory. With $25, and empty duffel bag, and the clothes on his back, he went to Charleston, South Carolina, to live the American Dream and create his own rags to riches story.
After traveling to Los Angeles last week and seeing the madness that we like to call "baggage claim" at LAX, I knew exactly what the quote above was talking about, but I had never even thought to compare it to the way life is. At baggage claim, there are several types of people: everyday travelers, who are numb to their environment to the point that finding their luggage is a mindless task; the people that pick up seventeen different bags before they know which one is theirs; the families where one spouse wrestles the children off the conveyor belt while the other spouse jockeys for position to grab the Hello Kitty bag; the driver who looks for his client's luggage; and the weaker folks who packed entirely too much for their arms to carry.
In each case, every person is focused on his/her own luggage. "That's life for ya."
It makes sense. In our lives, 9 times out of 10, when the heat is on, we're focused on our needs and the needs of our loved ones. Forget strangers. Someone else can look after them. It's not my job. This book was an eye-opener for me, because it made me realize how selfish I really am, despite my own self image as being charitable and compassionate to people in need.
There are some people out there that simply need help. Those are like the weaker people who can't get their own bag off the conveyor belt. No matter how hard they try, they will never be able to defy the forces of gravity and momentum as they are dragged around the baggage carousel. In my job in direct sales, I meet people like this everyday. No matter how hard they work, they truly are victims of circumstance and are unable to improve their standard of living without assistance (usually in the form of welfare).
Then there are the people who are just too lazy or distracted to get their own luggage. These people are my least favorite in life, but I feel like I am called to love them even more. While some people are victims of circumstances, there are others who just call themselves victims on account of their own laziness. Adam Shepherd ran into a lot of these types of people throughout the course of his journey. The mindset is a lot like this: "Why should I go get a job when I can get paid to sit here on my couch." This attitude lights a fire in me.
The lower class in America is stuck in a rut, and according to Shepherd's book, there are three types of people.
Those who make things happen.After reading this book, I am torn between two conflicting sides. The competitor in me tells me that they should figure it out themselves, get a job, and improve their circumstances. The compassionate one in me, which also comes from my Christian upbringing, tells me that I need to help these people.
Those who watch things happen.
Those who sit back, scratch their heads, and wonder, "What in the hell just happened."
For a political turn: whose responsibility should it be to help those who really need it? Mine. Ours. But our tax dollars should not do the work for us.
