Catch, then, O catch the transient hour, improve the moment as it flies.
Saint Jerome
****************
Hello Ally
****************
I was born in 1939. That was known as the Post Depression Era. There were wealthy people of course. There are always wealthy people, most of whom know nothing at all about wealth. But for the average guy, facing the horrible memories and echoes of the depression, the most important thing was to have a job. It really didn't matter, in many cases, what the job was as long as it provided a living wage. I grew up with that ethic drummed into me. I shouldn't think about having a career. Get a job.
In my recent move I've uncovered many things that have been packed away for want of space. Now that I have some room I'm unpacking boxes and discovering what is inside them. One of the things I found is my original Social Security card. I never had it replaced because I haven't had to show it to anyone for many years. You might say it's a collectors item.
It reminded me of my first job, a stand up job running a machine that wrapped up to mail issues of the Port Chester Daily Item of Port Chester, New York. For an entire summer I stood at a table with a stack of brown wrappers in front of me each with a number on it. The numbers repersented the number of papers I had to wrap. I would slide them across the wrappers into a small forked arm of metal and step on a switch. The machine did the rest. I put the wrapped papers in a pile and later someone came by to collect them. I took a bus back and forth to work and at lunch break I had a burger at Scotty's Diner. Four years later I had my first professional acting job.
The theatre became my career, my profession and my job. But I got side tracked into a radio announcing job that was very good. Although a cornucopia of difficulties and tensions, radio can be a lucrative and satisfying endeavor, I made money, I was satisfied, I was self-satisfied, life was good, the future was rosy, I thought. I didn't have to worry about anything. I had a job.
I was the afternoon announcer. In the evenings, after dinner and a few drinks I would put myself to sleep watching aimless, inane television. I did that for seven years. SEVEN YEARS.
Today that is one of the greatest regrets of my life. What did I do with all that time I had given myself? Nothing. At about the same time as that was beginning to worry me I was growing dissatisfied with just broadcasting. Although for some announcers going on the air everyday was a thrill, for me the thrill was gone. Then I heard the Paul Simon song "One man's ceiling is another man's floor." It hit me that what I was doing was bumping my head on the ceiling. I had to move on. (What? And give up your job?)
I did, and went back into the theatre which kept me active and busy, challenged and involved with life up to it's full cup and running over. No regrets, except that I didn't do it sooner.
Now I write every day and paint often. I am busy, productive and reasonably happy, in spite of personal problems. I don't want to waste another moment of life, and I pass along the same advice to everyone.
There is a useless, pointless life to be lived drinking yourself silly every night or getting high on drugs and playing stupid games on a screen or in a bed. Life is the most important thing you have. Why waste it?
The present is what we have and what we always have, in fact it's all we have. It should be grasped, seized and improved on in every way possible. It doesn't matter what you do with the present moment as long as you don't waste it.
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
Never Give Up
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Showing posts with label having a job. Show all posts
Showing posts with label having a job. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Let Freedom Ring
No price is too high for the privilege of owning yourself.
Friedrich Nietzsche
**********************
Many people have paid a hefty price for that privilege. Most of us are still paying.
There have been amazing stories of skilled and enterprising slaves who were blessed with an opportunity to make enough to buy their own freedom, in a real sense to buy themselves. Others, not given the skills or opportunities, have paid the dangerous price of escape, often without success.
Feeling free is not the same thing as freedom. A false sense of security is more dangerous than insecurity. Back in the 40's and 50's, when I was growing up, a major ethic, in that post depression era, was to have a job. If you had a job you were secure. It was expected that you would stay at that job, working for that company the rest of your life until yu retired and it was assumed that your job was secure. There was a lifetime commitment between the employer and the employee. With the rise of organized labor a man's salary, security and working conditions improved to the point where he could think about settling down to raise a family and maybe even owning a home.
It all seemed like the American dream working itself out as the philosophers of 20th Century ideas had envisioned it. America was, after all, the land of the free. But the fact was freedom under those conditions was not attainable. An employer owned your job and therefore he owned a major part of your life. It was a false sense of security which seemed better than the desperate insecurity that had beleaguered the early 20th Century.
The 60's came and things began to unravel. Employers started replacing workers and workers started changing jobs. The work place was no longer the arena of freedom. Also, along came the skyrocketing cost of things like health care which meant that the simple job a man had was no long capable of taking care of the family he had begun. The husband's salary was not enough so the wife had to go to work also meaning that holding the family together became an improvised affair. As the expenses and responsibilities piled up something was slowly disappearing from the mental environment. It was the sense of freedom. We were tied down to jobs, debts, family obligations and physical limitations.
We go looking for things to give us a ssense of freedom. Vacations are a usual choice. Depending on a man's income he could take the family skiing in the Alps, or to a cottege on the beach or he could sit around in the living room, spending time with the kids, watching TV, resting and playing games. But wherever he went the vacation ended and he went back to the servitude of the job he never left.
He could be inventive, enterprising and manipulative, and rise in the ranks of wage earners, but whatever his specialty, profession or career he was still tethered to it.
Then comes retirement when he thinks at last he'll be free. But what he finds is a whole new set of responsibilities and a life of commitments, because he is used to it.
At some point, after all the slavery he's been through or put himself through he may realize that freedom is something that exists only in his thoughts. He's paid a heavy price for that realization, but at last he can begin to do the amazing thing of taking possession of himself. He's had the right all along to claim ownership. It doesn't matter who he works for or what he does, how big his family is or where he lives, who his friends and neighbors are or how much money he has. None of those things define him. He is a single entity, a unique idea in the vast universe of existence with total authority for being there. It took a long time, many struggles and a hefty price to find out that he has always been free.
DB
Vagabond Journeys
*********************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
*******************
A'S UBAW' MB IXCWUO SG ZCG BR NAKAW'
AR MXCM CAWM OWBYUX
MXOW A'NN IXCWUO MXO ZCG
MXCM A DMVYM SG DMYRR.
'ICTDO WPFPLG ZCWMD GPY
ZXOW GPY'VO BNL CWL UVCG
MXOVO'NN FO DBSO IXCWUOD SCLO MBLCG.
Good luck
DB
*****************
Friedrich Nietzsche
**********************
Many people have paid a hefty price for that privilege. Most of us are still paying.
There have been amazing stories of skilled and enterprising slaves who were blessed with an opportunity to make enough to buy their own freedom, in a real sense to buy themselves. Others, not given the skills or opportunities, have paid the dangerous price of escape, often without success.
Feeling free is not the same thing as freedom. A false sense of security is more dangerous than insecurity. Back in the 40's and 50's, when I was growing up, a major ethic, in that post depression era, was to have a job. If you had a job you were secure. It was expected that you would stay at that job, working for that company the rest of your life until yu retired and it was assumed that your job was secure. There was a lifetime commitment between the employer and the employee. With the rise of organized labor a man's salary, security and working conditions improved to the point where he could think about settling down to raise a family and maybe even owning a home.
It all seemed like the American dream working itself out as the philosophers of 20th Century ideas had envisioned it. America was, after all, the land of the free. But the fact was freedom under those conditions was not attainable. An employer owned your job and therefore he owned a major part of your life. It was a false sense of security which seemed better than the desperate insecurity that had beleaguered the early 20th Century.
The 60's came and things began to unravel. Employers started replacing workers and workers started changing jobs. The work place was no longer the arena of freedom. Also, along came the skyrocketing cost of things like health care which meant that the simple job a man had was no long capable of taking care of the family he had begun. The husband's salary was not enough so the wife had to go to work also meaning that holding the family together became an improvised affair. As the expenses and responsibilities piled up something was slowly disappearing from the mental environment. It was the sense of freedom. We were tied down to jobs, debts, family obligations and physical limitations.
We go looking for things to give us a ssense of freedom. Vacations are a usual choice. Depending on a man's income he could take the family skiing in the Alps, or to a cottege on the beach or he could sit around in the living room, spending time with the kids, watching TV, resting and playing games. But wherever he went the vacation ended and he went back to the servitude of the job he never left.
He could be inventive, enterprising and manipulative, and rise in the ranks of wage earners, but whatever his specialty, profession or career he was still tethered to it.
Then comes retirement when he thinks at last he'll be free. But what he finds is a whole new set of responsibilities and a life of commitments, because he is used to it.
At some point, after all the slavery he's been through or put himself through he may realize that freedom is something that exists only in his thoughts. He's paid a heavy price for that realization, but at last he can begin to do the amazing thing of taking possession of himself. He's had the right all along to claim ownership. It doesn't matter who he works for or what he does, how big his family is or where he lives, who his friends and neighbors are or how much money he has. None of those things define him. He is a single entity, a unique idea in the vast universe of existence with total authority for being there. It took a long time, many struggles and a hefty price to find out that he has always been free.
DB
Vagabond Journeys
*********************
WEEKEND PUZZLE
*******************
A'S UBAW' MB IXCWUO SG ZCG BR NAKAW'
AR MXCM CAWM OWBYUX
MXOW A'NN IXCWUO MXO ZCG
MXCM A DMVYM SG DMYRR.
'ICTDO WPFPLG ZCWMD GPY
ZXOW GPY'VO BNL CWL UVCG
MXOVO'NN FO DBSO IXCWUOD SCLO MBLCG.
Good luck
DB
*****************
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