1.
Did you know that “economy” comes from ancient Greek, meaning “to manage a household”? True story. So let’s begin and end there.
2.
Well, you know.
In this economy, we use the phrase “in this economy,” trading it easily as a head shake or a handshake. Layoffs, job losses, not to mention inequality on so many fronts that we don’t even think about the backs, literal or metaphorical.
Sometimes, it’s true, we say it as an excuse crutch, a lip curl dismissal, a shoulder shrug adjective.
Sometimes we say it as a paper cut insult.
And sometimes we say it like we’re fluffing a pillow on a guillotine.
Let’s be clear: too often we say it too damned often.
2.
And saying it too often makes it part of our everyday fabric, and we might forget that this economy will not always be this economy.
Or rather, we might forget that this economy sparks other economies, or what my friend A calls “informal economies.”
So in this economy, I feel a manifesto coming on.
3.
Informal economies? Barter and trade. Eggs for milk. Classes for web updates. Child care for an airport ride. Under an informal economy, the currency I have may not be what you normally accept, and it may not seem equal at first. But there’s wealth in the social fabric woven by our exchange.
This economy depends on the question, “how can I help you?”
This economy rests in a counterintuitive imbalance. A trust that whatever you give will come back to you, probably in ways that you never imagined, probably when you least expect it.
In fact, this economy depends on a surplus of trust, an abundance of altruism, an unprecedented deficit of selfishness.
This economy depends on the unexpected kindnesses of near-strangers, the stunning acts of giving across continents, across oceans, across alleys into backyards. Like my friend’s S’s love for her friend J, like my friend T’s love for her former home and her people. Please give there, give what you can. By itself, it might not feel like much.
But sometimes giving in some small way is all we have, and all we have is exactly enough.
4.
I know. We can burn out on giving, you want to say. I know.
So I want to tell you about my friend A. We’d ventolin inhaler 2mg worked together over e-mail, and we met in Seattle when she came there for a conference. We lost touch, regained it again. In an e-mail shortly thereafter, she explained that she’d gone through near-unimaginable health issues and surgeries for a young woman our age, which I’ll leave vague for her privacy. She was going through another round of issues as we wrote. I couldn’t say much, but I could write back a little bit, mostly to say, “I’m here.” It wasn’t much.
Almost a year later, I lost my job.
When the whole process of job loss began—and it was a long process, almost a year—I sent out a message to friends asking for moral support. So many responded with shock, with anger, with disbelief, with hugs. I felt and needed them all. A was on the recipient list.
And yet A, I knew, was enduring even more health complications upon complications, severe as the face of a cliff. And from that place, she wrote, “Send me your mailing address! I’m sending antioxidants!”
I sent her my address. I pictured a bottle, some kind of herbal supplement. A few days later, a small plain brown cardboard box arrived on my doorstep, shipped with a FedEx mailing label. No note, not that a note was needed, but these were clearly the antioxidants from A.
It was a box of homemade biscotti. Part—only part!—of what A was facing, herself, was cancer.
Not much: exactly enough.
5.
Now I can remind you that “economy” is about managing a household. As a writer, economy makes me think about tightness and restraint.
But in going back to the origins of the word, there’s comfort and expansiveness and freedom. Doesn’t that make “economy” easier than textbooks and infographics, than pie charts and statistics?
In other words: shouldn’t this economy be about making a home?
P.S. I asked A if I could publish her story here. Part of her awesome response: “For the record, I *did* intend to put a card in that box, but it came down to a ‘send it while they’re fresh, or put in a card’ choice. I chose freshness.”