Tuesday, April 07, 2009

My Parents Will Never Go Skiing in France

When in England last December, I heard the following on a BBC News Program right before it went to break:

“Up Next: How has the credit crunch affected the French Ski Industry?”


When I think of the global financial crisis, the ABSOLUTE LAST THING I would think about, if at all, is the state of French Ski Industry.

You see, when you ask about the state of French Ski Industry, you are asking about the state of rich people. I don’t care about the state of rich people. I care about the state of poor people…and those on the verge of becoming poor. If those without money are treated without regard to their humanity when times are "good," what happens now?

So BBC News, why should I worry about rich people not skiing?

“But Hari, if rich people are not skiing, how else are they spending their leisure time?"

"If the rich are not skiing where will they go? Will they be simply forced to stay inside their EXTREMELY COMFORTABLE HOMES?”

“What if they attempt to mingle with the general population? Will they confuse…and bore us… with their worthless knowledge of Victorian literature? Or worse... attempt to sell us some of their modern art?”

As if someone without money would actually have any interest in buying the work of Cy Twombly!


Some of us don’t have the time or the interest to play “Modern Art Magic Eye.”

Person 1: I think it’s a giraffe.

Person 2: No, no. It’s clearly Twombley’s abstract representation of modernity.

Person 2: Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I see the giraffe’s neck.


Perhaps, if we’re lucky enough, the rich will also attempt to sell us some of their secondhand Soviet uranium.

Oh, rich people! Why won’t you colonize Mars already so us poor people can finally inherit the earth?
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I’m worried about my parents, who are not poor, but are getting older and deserve the chance to retire.

Poet Khalil Gibran once wrote:

Work is love made visible. And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.

Ahh…if it were only so simple Poet Khalil Gibran. Work is love? Maybe initially, but after a while, it may simply become love...for your kids. And ironically, you get to a point where you only work so you can retire.

Retirement is freedom. It means being able to enjoy your remaining years without anyone telling you what to do. Having the time to rest arthritic knees and worn hearts.

My parents would love to retire now, but “alms” don’t pay the mortgage.

1 Comments:

Blogger Christina said...

Hari, we may not have purchased a Cy Twombly but we did pay about £14 each to view and ridicule them.

10:52 PM  

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