wealth, work and life success

expatriate altruism

Without much effort, most of us can think of two or three large-scale tragic events that occurred in the last decade that shook us. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, that killed over 200,000 people, springs to mind, or the recent earthquake in Haiti that may kill many more when the final toll is realized (due to sickness, lack of clean water and so on).  Without much additional effort, man-made disasters like war, ethnic cleansing or terrorism can also be added:  9-11, the Sudan or the invasion of Iraq.  Many people are motivated to help in these instances, by giving – often to incredible extremes – of their time and money.  But in a time of great economic hardship in America – or any other country – should a helping hand be extended across the border, or should citizens look to help their own country first?

Not every disaster has a face. When natural disasters hit, it’s easy to put faces to the tragedy.  Television coverage of the Haitian earthquake veers too close to tragedy porn for my comfort.  The exploitation of suffering by news organizations for the sake of ratings – which attract advertisers – is understandable.  But imagine if that attention was turned to the “less sexy” issues that kill in America:  poverty, cancer or even crime.  The possibility of improvement is significant.

I don’t mean to say that we shouldn’t empathize with the rest of the world, but I think many people still imagine it is 1991 and America has an unquestioned and unquestionable perch atop the world, economically, militarily and even maybe philosophically.  It doesn’t anymore.  America is sick, too.

The debt forgiveness movement focuses on countries with crippling debt, but America is approaching that point, too. We send medical aid to Haiti, but you know what?  I know people who don’t have health insurance right here in America and who can’t afford to see a doctor.  Americans want to think that they are showing their generosity by extending a helping hand to the rest of the world, but it hides that fact that there are urgent, desperate needs here that aren’t being addressed, too.

I know this may come across as jingoistic, and perhaps it is. My liberal political leanings have always been shot through with a nationalistic bent; I have always felt deeply the saying “charity begins at home.”  To demonstrate my mindset, I’ll point to the idea of charitable giving in general.  Most people say that you always have something to offer the less fortunate.  That’s true.  Wallace Wattles, in the Science of Getting Rich, points out that the best thing you can do for the poor of the world is to get rich yourself.  Sounds crazy?  Look at what Bill Gates or Warren Buffett is doing.  The vast accumulation of wealth allows you to make a real difference in a given area (for example, immunizations for Gates).

Am I being selfish? If I choose to give to a local charity in northern Florida instead of contributing to Chilean relief, am I being cruel because their need is more urgent?  If I say that taxpayer’s money that’s being spent on aid to other countries would be better spent on providing health care for Americans, am I being a jerk? I don’t know – I’m torn myself, sometimes, but to pretend that America (or the West in general) are full of limitless generosity to the rest of the world seems disingenuous.  At some point we have to admit that the doctor is sick, too.

photo by respres

babies in bars

Late in Bubelah’s first pregnancy, we stopped in at a bar after a visit to the doctor for a routine checkup. I had a beer and she had a seltzer.  It was a mild winter day, mid-afternoon and we were savoring some quiet time together before the main event, due a few weeks later.  As we chatted, I was slightly surprised to see a couple walk in with a stroller and a baby who appeared to be about two years old.

As they sat at the bar, with their baby parked behind them, I stewed. I had a lifetime of bachelorhood behind me; the main interaction I had with children before I had my own was glaring at them when they cried on airplanes.  My just-recently born niece and nephew were – as far as I can remember – the first and second babies I had held in my life.  I hadn’t been around people with children much at all; my life in New York and Moscow before that was centered around singles life.  Babies and toddlers were a vague, distant afterthought.

So when the toddler at the bar started fussing, my passive-aggressive fury mounted, and I threw the parents a nice rough glare. They seemed to shrug it off.  Being midafternoon, the bar didn’t have any smoke in it, wasn’t crowded and except for a few patrons around the bar and towards the front watching a soccer game on TV, it was quiet.  My glare cut like a knife hurled in the parents’ direction – or at least I imagined it did.  They probably thought I was squinting at the TV.

I am more sympathetic now, of course, since I have two toddlers of my own. It’s tough to avoid “grown-up” places when you have kids.  Just because I have kids doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to visit an adult-oriented establishment from time to time.  The obvious answer is to have a babysitter, but it’s tough to leave two small toddlers alone in the evening with a babysitter unless you have a great deal of trust in her (and yes, I’ll be sexist and say “her”).  And now that I’m a parent, I’d like to expose my almost-four-year-old son to a nice restaurant once in a while.  I’m not sure my daughter appreciates the difference between McDonald’s and the Olive Garden and Morton’s yet, but why not let her enjoy french fries from Morton’s, too?

But. There’s a but.

Kids don’t belong in bars. There are two reasons:  first, they aren’t 21.  What’s the cutoff?  If I bring my 12 year old to a bar, is that OK?  Is it fine as long as they don’t drink?  If so, can a 16 year old stroll in?  19?  Second, I think other patrons have a right to a “no-children-allowed” bar experience, just as they do to a “no-kids-at-R-rated-movies” experience or a “no-kids-playing-in-the-office” experience.  I have seen both; I remember going to see the movie Alien Versus Predator at a matinée * and sitting there with my jaw on the ground as stroller after stroller rolled in filled with (understandably) shrieking babies.  I’ve seen quite a few single mothers who work in accounting over the years bring their kids in to the office in an emergency (babysitter sick, everyone else at work, etc.).  It’s not fair to everyone else to bring kids there.

This may be an Americanism.  Europeans don’t worry much about children at bars. Maybe most cultures don’t care.  I’ve sat on enough beer garden benches with rugrats playing tag in the aisles while in Germany to know that.  Americans may just be more prudish, or more considerate, or less (or more) family oriented.  I’m sure the argument can be made that exposing children to the drinking of alcohol isn’t healthy, but you could make the same argument (in my opinion) for exposing them to TV, junk food, pop culture, toxic big cities and even various political philosophies.

I’m not sure when I’d start feeling comfortable bringing my kids to a bar at happy hour.  The article I read that prompted this thinking (here) seemed to be centered on the parents’ need for socializing.  I view that as selfish.  If you want to socialize, get a babysitter.  Have lunch while your child is at day care.  Take turns as parents staying home while the other goes out.  It’s not ideal, of course, but many of the comments were dead on:  you are a parent now.  If you miss hanging out all afternoon drinking sangria at the local watering hole with friends: tough.  If you’d like to pop into the local bar for a beer with the kid in tow on the way home from work when your child is sleepy:  too bad.

So if you go to TGI Friday’s with the family in tow, fine. They’ll put you near the kitchen, give you some crayons and a kids’ menu and tolerate the tossing of forks.  Should you go to O’Hallorans at 7 pm with your two-year old?  Nope.  Head home, read Runaway Bunny and suck it up.  There’s a happy medium, and I’d rather not be the guy pictured on CNN with an obviously crying baby on my lap and a half-drunk glass of wine in front of me (look at the article).

* I love science fiction.  I loved Alien.  I really loved Aliens, one of my favorite movies ever.  I loved Predator, too – how can you go wrong with two future governors (Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jesse Ventura) fighting an eight-foot-tall invisible rastafarian bug-man?  I was really excited about Aliens versus Predator before it came out.  I did NOT love AvP.  Way to stick a fork in both franchises, people who made AvP.

photo by Penningtron

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