Some Civic Benefit In What Lies Ahead
by ahansen
Unlike Ben, who apparently clears his desk every Friday, I have been known to go for several years without baring the curly maple of my own. When I do, it’s generally taken me at least a month of searching for lost notes and receipts to get the initial inspiration to clean it off, then another month of resentful contemplation of the task that awaits me. Finally, I’ll awake one morning, select the “Let’s Clean House” playlist on my iPod, crank the speakers up to ten and get to work.
I start by removing the globe, the computer, the telephone and the abridged OED. Then, (and here’s the good part,) I sweep the whole mess onto the floor with my forearm.
Dust clouds arise, glass shatters, pens and coins go skittering, and the cats have a field day. But by golly, the surface of my desk is empty and ready for cleaning. I can take my time and scrub it down thoroughly with Murphy’s oil, then wax it until the surface glows and the woods bring forth the aromas of the forest from which they were harvested. It’s a lovely thing.
Then, at my leisure and with a double-strength lawn and garden trash bag at my elbow, I sit on the floor and sort through the debris. It’s amazing what I can discard without even a twinge of conscience. (Why on earth would I want to save an empty plastic rice bag?) With such a lovely clean surface staring at me, I am loathe to put anything on it that doesn’t absolutely need to be there. It would be a shame to sully that magnificent piece of woodwork with anything so mundane as a piece of crinkled paper, let alone a collection of soiled socks.
One year ago yesterday, America had the opportunity to clean its financial desk a la ahansen. But we didn’t. All those carefully crafted pencil cups, the dovetailed file cabinets and the cunning little walnut boxes that hold the brass alphabet stencils are still sitting there on our national desk gathering dust and taking up space. Maybe in another few years….
Lost opportunities notwithstanding, the good people of this country seem to have come to a point where we’re starting to realize that what we have at this moment is probably as good as we’re ever going to get– and that’s not the sort of realization that makes us feel particularly charitable or neighborly. Our real net worth, our earning capacity, our output and income, are not likely to increase, and there is a very good chance they will deteriorate even further than they already have. Whether they reach critical mass remains to be seen, but in any case, it’s obviously the end of an era and we’re getting pretty cranky about the whole thing. Just look at all the unruly town hall meetings and the latest march on Washington. More to the point, civilian ammunition sales are some of the highest ever recorded.
Much has been said about the Hard Times that await us, and it’s harder still to argue that much good came out of the last Great Depression. But in spite of the cruddy mood that always overtakes me in September —I’m not sure if it’s the dry Santana winds, or just a conditioned response from of all those years of having to stop learning about things that fascinated me and go back to school to study stuff that didn’t— I’ll make an attempt to foresee some civic benefit in what lies ahead.
Why we NEED a New Depression.
Most obviously, we’ll reduce our footprint on the planet. I’m Malthusian enough to know that with increasing poverty and its inevitable disease and famine, comes die-off. Personally, I think it’s about time. There are too accursed many of us, and those of us there are, are soft and redundant.
We’ve become so specialized we can’t even cook our own food anymore, let alone produce it. We spend more on cosmetics than we do on education. And we let electronic devices raise our children because we’re too busy to stick around and talk to them ourselves. We even outsource the care of our own parents because we don’t want to be bothered with all the muss and hassle.
When our country loses its excess employment opportunities (and who would argue that candle-decorating shops are necessary employment) staying home to tend our families will become honorable again– and that will be a good thing.
When it becomes financially absurd to purchase a new $30,000 automobile every four years, or fill its tank with $8-a-gallon fuel, perhaps we’ll start thinking about how often we drive, and actually start walking for a change. Maybe with fewer cars and trucks on the road, kids can safely ride a bicycle to school or soccer practice instead of expecting to be driven by some consenting adult in a hulking Canyonero.
When homeowners realize that they have to make the choice between heating 5500 square feet or retaining their monthly communication and entertainment options, rooms will either be closed off or stocked with storytelling Grandmas. Or better yet, Grandmas who can tell stories and pay rent, too. Instead of staying together “for the sake of the kids,” couples may decide to stay together for the sake of the house.
Last night I watched a film on PBS about an English neurosurgeon who does outreach medicine in the Ukraine. He remarked that the cranial perforators (essentially a drill bit,) he’d brought with him from London are only used once and then discarded. They cost $130 apiece, and his hospital typically goes through about ten in a week. The Ukraine surgeon replied that in his clinic, they use one for ten years.
That sort of waste is repeated in everything from the mounds of uneaten foodstuffs in our garbage bins to the barely-used furniture we throw out when we change apartments. Then there is the mind-boggling profligacy of “Cash for Clunkers” or the “mothballing” of commercial and military aircraft. With the New Depression, this shameful behavior will cease as our resources dwindle, and we’ll have to start refurbishing what we already have– and making do without what we don’t. That might be a good thing, too.
As cheap supplies become more expensive and less available, we’ll think twice before purchasing a $45 “value” pack of razor blades. We’ll reuse our “disposables” and reheat our pizzas. Maybe we’ll buy a new battery for the telephone instead of springing for a whole new unit, and figure out a way to keep track of our children without buying the 10-year-old a cell phone.
There’s a good chance we’ll stop lodging our pet dogs in luxury spas while we’re out of town, and just pay a neighbor kid a couple of bucks to come over and feed them every afternoon. People will no longer plant designer palm trees in temperate climes and will begin researching apple cultivars for shade and food. Kitchen gardens will replace status landscapes, those hideous “water elements” will be repurposed as pet waterers and bird baths, and maybe tomatoes will even come to taste like tomatoes again. That would be a wonderful thing.
Best of all, the New Depression might force us to stop fetishizing consumption in favor of developing our knowledge and our talents— and use our newfound energies to fill our minds instead of our empty garage spaces. This time of tumultuous change may be just the kick in the collective butt we need to reconnect with our families and our neighbors and our communities; and maybe, just maybe, with the simple ideals that made our Country great.
Or we can just wait for September to be over.
