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Location: Cedar Park, Texas, United States

I am an outsourced American: I am black/African American and approaching 43 years of age. This is a chronicle of my story. The major networks talk about the "robust economy," few of them talk about the personal cost of the loss. I hope my story is not just an ethnic story. Like I said: I am an outsourced American, a casualty of NAFTA and CAFTA. We will all share in this boat soon.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

Chapter 4 - The Working Poor

"Economy Not Kind to the Working Poor"
By Anna Varela
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
from http://www.truthout.org/docs_04/123104J.shtml

The aspect of a lay off: you don't think of the next step to do with your money, though you are counseled to do just that.

You don't think about the fact that your benefits for doctors visits will run out with the time they've attached to your severance.

Melancholy is a numbness. It's neither maniacally panicked nor remotely calm.

Even if and when you are counseled wisely about your money, the most obvious thing to do is to downsize your lifestyle. Thoreau said "simplify, simplify, simplify."

What works for writing assignments doesn't always work for living in suburban neighborhoods after living most of your life in a... hood.

It's a pride issue. I'd worked hard, sacrificed much time to the pursuit of a degree in Engineering Physics. I can't TELL you how many parties I avoided for what I now reflect on as above average grades.

I had a window in my room that faced east towards the sunrise. It subtly told me that a new day always dawned despite my circumstances.

I recall every safe house and drug/candy store a character by the name of "Po' Charlie" had in my neighborhood (or, "hood").

I vividly remember the announcement of police raids at Charlie's safe houses; how they would find nothing. I remember cheering for Charlie, not the police.

He was Robin Hood, though I never benefited from his largesse. He was merely strong enough to go up against "the pigs" -- a metaphor from the 60s and the Panthers.

As I look back on him, he was a leech sucking the vital blood out of a community. He was a vulture feasting on the dead bodies of the addicted. But, I digress.

You realize you are the working poor when you apply for... food stamps. Now, the stamp is a debit card with a balance you must not exceed each month. In downsizing the types of foods you'd usually get, the choices left aren't very nutritious.

The upside -- it forces you to budget, which in this long personal night I'm walking through is probably the only good thing about it.

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