Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

Jelly beans have a lot in common with drugs.

The next time you’re in a drugstore, look at the poster for poison drug look alikes. At my CVS in Northwest D.C., a poster near the pharmacy shows more comparisons with Good & Plenty than any other candy.

But a drug doesn’t have to be poisonous to mimic something fun to take. Throughout the decades, certain drugs have come in and out of favor, much like certain types of jobs.

In the 1960s, for example, father was likely to be a junior-level auto and casualty underwriter earning $8,000 per year, while mother stayed at home to raise the kids. Pot was popular as was the the TV show “The Mod Squad.”

Unemployment fell steadily throughout the decade, declining to a low of 3.5 percent in 1969.

Microwave ovens were the new, hot kitchen toy but still out of the financial reach of  most families. No one had a computer: Their use was strictly scientific or business related.

Today, the father of the 1960s is likely to be in retirement with his wife of more than 50 years tending to his needs. His children have children, and they all live far away; sometimes coming home for the holidays, sometimes not.

That’s how it is in my family. I won’t be home for the holidays: I can’t afford it.

I won’t say a thing to my 10 and 12 year old about their father losing his contract job, though the older one overheard the conversation that resulted in his termination. I tell him it’s not a burden he needs to worry about. But he does.

My future is in the hands of the company I’m temping for, and they’re pretty busy right now with bigger things. That’s business.

I struggle to find joy when others, including myself, are in pain. But that’s what we’re supposed to do, find joy, and not let our internal troubles boil over into reality, at least not until we stop watering the Christmas tree and throw it by the curb like landlords do with tenants when they can’t pay the rent.