Land of the Pampered, Home of the Entitled

I love America. I'm proud to be an American.  I am proud of how my ancestors helped shape this country and made it into the great nation it is.  I love hearing the family histories of how my ancestors came here as French Huguenots fleeing religious persecution, or how some came over as indentured servants.  My great great grandma Ida and her husband Wray were some of the first settlers in Kearney County, Nebraska.  Their first house was a sod house (aka soddy) and Grandma Ida was the post mistress and ran it out of said soddy.

Example of a sod house

I imagine how hard life must have been for my ancestors, settling this new land. Most everything had to be made by hand. There was no Wal-Mart to run to. In fact, to get anywhere, you had to go by wagon, hitching up the horses in preparation; there was no hopping into your car to run to Wal-Mart.  Meals were made from scratch; there were no such things as pre-sliced bread or a microwave oven.  Fields had to be turned with an ox or horse hooked up to a plow.

Think about it, no TV, no radio, no internet, no cell phones.  Want to communicate with someone across the country quickly? In the days before telephone and telegraph, there was Pony Express.  It only took 10 days.  It only cost $0.25 for a 1/2 ounce.  A quarter might not seem like much today, but keep in mind the average laborers' wage without board was $0.90 per day and one could buy an acre of land for between three and five dollars.

Pony Express poster. Wonder why they preferred orphans...

When I think about all the hardships my ancestors went through settling this country, I have to wonder what they would think if they could see how we live today.  I think they would marvel at the speed at which we can travel and communicate.  I think everyday appliances such as a refrigerator, microwave, and washing machine would seem like wonderous inventions.

What would they think about our society?  Would they see us an advanced Utopian society?  Or would they see us as lazy, whiny cry babies?  Would they shake their heads in disbelief at how "hard" we work?  Would they be shocked at what we expect our government to do for us? Would they still see us as the land of the free and the home of the brave, or would they see us as the land of the pampered and the home of the entitled?

Just a few random thoughts to ponder...
Until Tomorrow
Melissa

The Best Things In Life…Are Worked For

It is said that the best things in life are free.  While I love a good bargain (I was raised by the queen of the clearance rack, the duchess of coupons), I must say I disagree with this statement.  The best things in life are worked for.  At minimum, you gain the most satisfaction on something you’ve really worked hard for.

Think about some of the best days of your life.  I’m guessing graduations, weddings, or promotions are at the top.  If you are a female reader, maybe giving birth to your children.  These are all things you’ve had to work for.  That is not to say that you didn’t have help along the way, but the achievement is mostly yours.

Working for what you get is a value that was instilled in me by my parents.  They are high school sweethearts that got married shortly after graduation.  A few years after my parents were married, my father could see that times were changing (in the mid 70’s in the midst of stagflation). While working a full time job, he went back to school full time.  In fact, he completed a four year degree in three-and-a-half.

This work ethic was taught to my brothers and me.  We were expected to get the best possible grades in school that we could.  Good grades equal scholarships for college.  Mom and Dad always provided for our needs and a few wants.  If we “wanted” above what was provided, there was something called "work".  This may be babysitting, mowing lawns (in the case of my brother), or when we were old enough, a part time job after school.

In fact, my motivating factor for my first job was a car.  This was clearly in the category of want.  The summer in between my junior and senior year in high school I worked at the local ice cream parlor owned by my best friend's grandma (and if you think this job was a gimme – think again.  Grandma Polly made you pass a math test as part of the interview). The pay was $4.25/hr, a whole dime above minimum wage.  I started working at the Tastee Treat because my father told me I would be allowed to buy a car once I had $2,000 saved up.  Two grand at $4.25 is a whole lot of time worked.

So much time in fact it wasn’t just working at the Tastee Treat.  It was also working at the local radio station, the Tastee Treat, and the local factory.  The summer between my first two years at college was spent working at the local factory as an intern in the corporate communications department and the Tastee Treat.  If you have been counting, that’s three summers scooping ice cream, one school year on thethe radio station, and two summers at the local factory.  That’s a whole lot of work for a car.

At this point, Dear Reader, you must be thinking my first car must have been some car.  Surely it was a rad sports car.  Maybe a foreign import.  *Sigh*  If only.  All that hard work bought me this:

That’s right, boys and girls.  My first car, which I bought in 1997 was an orange - safety cone ORANGE - 1979 Ford Fiesta.  The family car guy, my uncle Dave, was charged with finding me reliable transportation for $2,000 or less.  I forgot to tell him the car should have style and be cool… or at least not get me laughed at.

But here’s the bottom line:  I worked hard for that car.  I appreciated that car.  It also built character.  Not everyone can pull off driving an orange car with New York plates in Nebraska (I went to school at the University of Nebraska at Kearney.  Go Lopers).

Somewhere along the line the people in this country forgot about hard work and working toward a goal.  We now think we should have our wants handed to us and someone else should take care of the tab.  I worry about where we are going and what we are teaching our children.  This country was built by people that weren’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and do what needed to be done to achieve the goal, whatever it may have been.  Maybe it’s time to get out of our McMansion and our SUV’s.  It’s time to put the Starbucks and iPhones down. It’s time to get to work…

Because the best things in life…are worked for.

Until Tomorrow – Melissa

BTW – this is the kind of car that you eventually get with hard work!