Money Is A'ight, But It's Not Alright

I know some may think I’m totally full of shit, but money doesn’t buy you the joy you think you want. How would I know? Because so many of my high school friends’ family were wealthier than most of America.

A close friend attempted to kill herself, but first she shaved off all her hair and claimed a boyfriend had raped her ( years later, she attended Princeton and disappeared off my radar). Another did so many drugs, his brain is melted. And one actually did die. She was in my algebra class. A sweet girl named Andrea. I recall talking to her a lot during class. Long brown hair, with light green eyes. She had the type of hippie beauty that looked like Katherine Ross. Or Ali McGraw. Freckled nose. She died in her driveway, asphyxiated herself, in a community that needed the ambulance to get security to key them in. It was that exclusive. My algebra teacher Miss Badger, was so distraught, she didn’t even return the following semester. Miss Badger was a VERY young teacher. Pretty and not so much  older than the seniors. She was that type of teacher, if she ever had sex with any of us and got busted, it’d be that “man, why didn’t I have teachers like that in school.” She took her job seriously. Which also meant she took us seriously. Andrea’s death hit her hard.

My friend Shayne, who I spent a ton of time with, really battled it out with his step-father. He was a lawyer, which was tough enough. But I never got the feeling his step-pop liked us very much. Most of us were artists on the other side of the tracks. In fact, he seemed angry most of the time. I think his job got to him. Why wouldn’t it? It’s helping people with money hide money.

Shayne’s mom was a total doll. She reminded me of Linda Grey from “Dallas” had the same hair too. Her dynamic with the hubby was toxic. A hot mess, that trickled down to Shayne’s little sister. She was a punchy kid who walked around with a chip on her shoulder. It was no big surprise she’d already been divorce by the time she was 22.

These people all came from wealth. A secret type of wealth in southern Ohio. Yes, they had money. But people were miserable because making money was all there was. Most were drunks, or cocaine addicts. But it was all so secretive. I would contest that most of the people who were the most well adjusted, were the middle to lower class. Since we at least had something to strive for. To us, living in a big house with nice cars meant freedom. Little did I know having all those things were really boat anchors. People are miserable whose life goals are to make paper currency. I’d claim that a fact.

When my car went koo-koo for cocoa puffs, yes…the ability to buy a better, faster, nicer car is a goal. If I were rich, that goal is but a few swipes of a pen on a checkbook. But that would’ve meant I treated these things with less importance than a meal. While some argue I have better things to do than to worry about maintenance, I counter with the fact that I wouldn’t have social interaction with people. Yes, people. My friend Vince and I were traveling when my car when nutso. So we stopped off at an auto store in North Pasadena. It was great to have Vince around since, being stranded sucks when every face you see is a stranger. Inside the shop, the auto shop guy guided us to some coolant for my car. I asked him if he’d take a look at the container that had the top popped off. To which he obliged. He informed me of a few things about that, maintaining pressure to push coolant into radiator was causing the vehicle to overheat. Must fix seal first. I thank him. Bought the coolant and some sealant. When Vin and I were debating on shop rags, the clerk dropped a rag on top of it all. I couldn’t believe it. Knowing he would lose another sale, he simply just threw a rag in for…nothing.

If I were the type to just abandon my car and swipe a card and buy a new car, I would not have learned this valuable lesson. That people can be decent in your time of need. Simple kindness goes a LONG way. Something I do see more of in the Midwest than out here. Which meant much more. In fact, the first sealant tube went crazy on me, and the clerk exchanged it without a word of protest. I should mention, as we were walking around, the only white and Asian faces were us two. The rest were black or Hispanic. Ethnicity aside, we clearly were not in the tawny part of Pasadena. Second lesson I learned, the poor and desperate stick together. With my sealed up coolant tank in place, I holstered my cynicism for a day, and felt…a sense that people are good and decent. This was an epiphany that having a lot of money could never teach you. If not just on the outskirts of Los Angeles.