Growing Up Really Poor - Wage War Against Poverty

A little over a month ago I applied for the Krusell Fellowship. It's a program that helps people in developing communities with housing and other needs. In a portion of my application statement I shared a bit of my history growing up in South Minneapolis. I never felt poor growing up, but I learned later in life that my family was indeed very poor. My parents immigrated to America with almost nothing, and they could not find much traction here early on due to cultural and language barriers. There was virtually no way we could not have been poor during the early years of our family. Now that I am an adult, I better understand that we lived well under the poverty line, but I did not understand exactly how poor we were until recently.

There were only two occasions I ever felt poor growing up. I remember feeling poor after winter break would finish and all the kids would meet up at school and brag about their Christmas gifts. My friends would have a laundry list of gifts the received, but I hardly ever got more than one gift. The lack of Christmas gifts stopped bothering me when I entered junior high. I had to quickly overcome the envy because we moved to affluent Plymouth when I entered junior high. There was no possible way my parents could get us gifts that matched the gifts of my suburban friends. The only other time I remember feeling poor was when I was around second grade age. A friend of mine had me over for dinner one night. Milk and macaroni and cheese was served that night. That must have been the most, middle-of-no-where-Wisconsin-white-meal I have ever had up to that point. I thought it was delicious. I remember going home and bragging to my parents what was served for dinner at Kevin's house. It must have been a few weeks later that my parents weren't able to even put food on the table at home. I remember being especially hungry that night, and all we could afford was a slice of bread for dinner. I remember vocalizing my disappointment and frustration with my parents. I compared what we were having for dinner to what I had at Kevin's house only a few weeks prior. I know I can claim youthful ignorance, but it breaks my heart to think about how my parents must have felt in that situation as their first born child sat in the middle of the kitchen crying and complaining.

My father, mother, and 2 siblings shortly after we moved to Plymouth

My parents did a wonderful job shielding us from the a lot of the craziness that life throws at families (especially at families in need). They exposed us to the stressors of life in small doses to insure we weren't overburdened with concern while not missing out on important life lessons. I am forever grateful for their masterful balancing act. It is a bit strange researching your own family's history though. I asked my parents about programs we utilized to help us get to the place we are today. One of the greatest things to have come out way was a program my father had access to. It was a program that reimbursed his tuition at a technical college if he worked full time and kept his grades above a B average. It gave my father the economic mobility our family needed to pursue a decent standard of living and more educational opportunities. Our family used that program and food stamps to stay afloat, and I feel a bit of regret now as I feel as though I have not vocalized my defense for welfare enough after learning how food stamps helped my family tremendously. I have a lot of Republican friends (I did, after all, grow up in Plymouth) and I consistently see their anti-welfare posts on social media.

Why should people have access to an education if they can't afford it? Why should people get food stamps when they are just going to abuse the system?

I cannot say I have ever agreed with their sentiments and I do believe a social safety net is important (especially in a nation as wealthy and as "Christian" as ours). I am ashamed that I didn't defend the people who aren't that much different than my family more vehemently. To be negligent of their needs is to fail morally. Henceforth, when I see people bashing social programs that work and that saved families like mine, I will take it as a personal affront. To take these programs away from people in need is to create a vacuum is misery, and certainly you have a little more compassion than that.
Our application statements for the Krusell Fellowship were limited to two-pages. I dedicated a paragraph to my family's history. It took forever to write and it was heartbreaking. Imagine me in my dimly lit room hacking away at my keyboard with vision blurred from the tears running down my face. I have it exponentially good because of my parents, but also because there is a community and system that is willing to lend a hand. I cannot begin to summarize the level of malice some people must have to want to deny people access to these programs of mobility. There are families out there that are treading water and all they need is a little assistance to find solid ground and run inland. I am hoping to soon be in a position to search the sea for these people.

Oh, one last thing. I did not get the fellowship, but life goes on.