Portrait: Attleboro, Massachusetts

I saw a strange man walking up the street Sunday morning. I had already been to Church and back. I was waiting for my boyfriend to call me to breakfast. I heard the strange man before I actually saw him. He was yelling at someone…someone I could not see.

I felt a chill run up my back. I saw my arms break out in goose flesh. This was a big man with very long legs. He was very animated, furiously ranting and waving his arms in the air. He was scary.

He did not belong on my street. We don’t have crazy, yelling men walking on my street. I had never seen him before. He was walking on the ‘wrong’ side. We have no sidewalks and the road twists and turns and cars often drive way too fast on this street. He was actually at risk while he was yelling at his ghost.

Why was he walking on my street? Then it dawned on me. This is a sign of the “economic downturn.” I’m sure he shouldn’t have been out without supervision and at one time he probably would not have been out without supervision. But there are budget cuts everywhere and in my small city there is a hospital that takes care of people like this. My thought is that he came from there, unsupervised, uncared for.

And then two days later, after work, I was driving down my street to go to an afternoon appointment with my doctor. I saw another strange man. He was also tall, with long legs but he was younger. He was walking down the street, with a big long stick in one hand. His jeans were ripped and dirty (not in the stylish way). His hands looked dirty also. He was using the stick to pick out cans from the weeds and the woods. I drove slowly by, watching him scratch the back of his head while he carefully examined a can he dragged out of the long weeds and grass.

And I thought…this is too close to home. This is scary. This is really happening to us.

I am living paycheck to paycheck. I have started a savings plan, and I am praying that it works. I watched my retirement funds plummet while I kept getting my “financial advisor’s” voicemail. I cry when I think about the fact that I will be the Wal-Mart greeter long after age 62, 65 or even 70. Wal-Mart sucks, but it will serve one purpose for me. I will be the greeter, and I will use the discount they offer. Hopefully that will keep me from eating dog food in my golden years.

Last year, in 2008, my 29 year-old, late-to-launch son had surgery on his neck. He is an apprentice in an electrician’s union. He has medical insurance. However, he does not get paid when he doesn’t work. He moved home two weeks before his surgery.

His surgery was done in early February. He returned to work late in the month of November.

I kept up with his car payments. I paid his insurance. I paid his union dues. I gave him money for gas. I gave him money to spend on his girl. I was generous and it was hard, but you do for family, right?

In the summer his girl rented a cottage. He was able to drive by then and he wanted to help her, I know he did. He stole money from me. It was around $600 maybe a little more. That was money I planned on using for my vacation later in the summer.

I forgave him. He went back to work. He borrowed money to buy his girl some presents for Christmas.

He did some jobs around the house for me.

He still lives with me. He still borrows money. He is back at work. Last month his transmission died. I paid $1500 to have it fixed.

A week later he borrowed $500 for court costs (long story).

I asked him to build me some shelves in the closet. The job is sitting there, half done. Everything that was in this closet is out of the closet, on the floor, on a desk, piled on a bureau. He started this project 2 weeks ago.

This is strange to me. We have always been close. He knows he is hurting me. He hears me talk about my savings being wiped out, working at Wal-Mart. He seems like a sociopath to me lately. He doesn’t care. I think the “economic downturn” has burnt a hole in his soul. And it is now burning a hole in my heart. In reality, I know he suffers from depression and I know that he knows he is behaving in a very distasteful manner. I love him, but he needs to fix himself. I am very close to asking him to leave.

I want to get married. But I can’t afford to get married. It is important to us to get married in the Church. But that costs money. So we sit in the rear pew every Sunday, knowing we are sinners in the eyes of God and everyone else around us. And we faithfully pray for a break and to retain our good health, and we faithfully pray for my son and my daughter, and all his family and my family. And we dutifully put our envelope in the collection basket. But we can’t get married. Another year. Maybe next year.

I was divorced about 6 years ago and bought the house from my ex. He falsely elevated the value of the house, costing me an extra 30K, but I bought it anyway, rather than give it to the lawyer to fight about it, and figured that I couldn’t lose if I put the sweat equity into it.

I cleaned up the credit card debt HE created. That was to the tune of $25K. I managed to get about $60K into investments. That’s almost gone now of course, because of the “economic downturn.” My ex bought a house, a hot tub, a new motorcycle and managed to give his male lover Burberry purses and manicures.

But, no one ever said life would be fair. I honestly can say, it didn’t take me long to stop thinking about him and move on, even if we had been married over 25 years.

I began to feel excited about life again. The divorce had been good for me!

I painted the old house myself. I put the sweat equity in. I even got stuck on the roof once for several hours until someone came home because I am so terrified of heights. I painted the outside, painted the inside, put in new carpets and floor, new windows, and renovated the kitchen and bath. I did this one project at a time. I used 0% interest deals over and over. Paid off one, and then started a new one. I did a lot of work myself. I am proud to say, I carry no credit card debt even today! The value of the house increased dramatically.

But I’m afraid the value of the house did not weather the storm of the “economic downturn.” It’s not even close to what it was a few short years ago. Fortunately, I can pay the mortgage and the bills. I am not behind, but I am no where near close to being ahead. Occasionally I have to ‘kite’ a check. But that’s only when my son has hit me up hard.

I lay awake at night constantly running numbers in my head. I am living paycheck to paycheck. I have cut back on groceries, on the heat, on the AC. I started coloring my own hair when I got divorced. Now I cut it myself. (At times you can really tell, but for the most part you can’t). I haven’t really bought any new clothes in a while. I will not need new shoes until the autumn. I might ask for them for my birthday in August. If anyone is giving gifts, that is.

I lay awake at night and think about what’s in the attic that I could sell on eBay or Craigslist. I am making myself sick.

I have some meager life insurance. But I really wanted to leave the house to my kids, figuring that would be worth something. I wanted to give them something that would help them in life. I thought the value of the house would do that. I wanted them to smile and think of me because I could help them financially after I was gone. I cry because now I see that leaving them the house is going to be a burden, rather than a gift.

Tonight I have to speak with my son. I have to tell him I can’t pay for his school books anymore and I can’t pay his union dues. I can’t loan him money, and I can’t even abide to use the word loan anymore.

And he will get pissed off and not talk to me for a while. But he will still come home at night, go downstairs without saying a word and come up later when I am sleeping to eat food.

He might finish the closet in another week or so.

The strange men I have seen walking on my street? I sometimes think I have imagined them. They are visions of my son. These men are my 30-year-old, failed-to-launch son when I simply can’t support him anymore.

For me, the “economic downturn” is the equivalent of gnawing fear.

-Mary
Attleboro, Massachusetts

Portrait: Boston, Massachusetts

I moved to Boston, MA 5 days after graduating college in 2003. With a small loan from parents, without a job , not knowing anyone and hoping things would just work out. And somehow magically it seemed they did. Almost 6 years later I had a great job at an investment firm, a wonderful boyfriend who I lived with, awesome friends, a brand new car which I financed myself and a rather strong sense of pride that I'd made a good life for myself in not so much time.

I was laid off from my great job at the beginning of December 2008. It was a shock to say the least as my boyfriend and I had planned to stay at our jobs for the following year (2009) and then live out our dream of moving to Florida to be closer to some of my family and finally never see snow again. At first I was ok with no working, then as a month past and we moved into a new apartment I started to panic a little more each day. I was incredibly lucky to recieve a severance package that was very generous from my former employer so I knew I had a certain amount of time before the money ran out. I would estimate I applied for over 300 jobs, anything I seemed vaguely qualified for. 3 people called me back, I went on 2 interviews and was offered just one job. At a hospital, with slightly less pay, more responsiblity, no hope for a bonus, and not nearly the benefits. I took the job immediately because who knew what would happen? I've worked there for about 3 weeks, and the things I'm learning and the people I'm meeting could not be more interesting. It has me considering going back to school to do something in healthcare. Something I would have never considered if I had just lazed around at my former incredibly easy job.

I consider myself extemely lucky to have found employment in this economy but it wasn't easy. 2 months of waiting for the phone to ring to hear about a job you're not even sure you want is never a good feeling. Many of my friends have lost their jobs, almost everytime I go to a restaurant around here there is another one closed right next door. Bars are empty, shopping malls are empty, restaurants are empty. We don't really go out that much anymore, instead we have friends over or go to their house. In times like these you really realize what's important and it certainly isn't how much money you make, what you have, where you live, or how much your bonus will be. It's who will be there to help you and listen when everything you knew is different.

Becky
Boston, MA

Portrait: Boston, Massachusetts

I am that girl everyone loves to hate: the 23-year old graduate student from a well-off middle class family whose parents “help her out” financially. This means they are paying this year’s tuition, cell phone bill, car insurance, a flight home (the cheapest available) at the holidays, and rent (please don’t hunt me down and kill me). Transportation, groceries, books, etc. are up to me. I’ve worked every summer since I was 13 and babysat from age 11. I saved up my money and it allowed me spending money up through my junior year of college (and by spending money I mean money for going out, clothing, transportation, etc) without ever allowing debt to accrue. My freshman year of college I worked all day (45 min. commute) and went to community college in the evenings. I transferred to a 4 year program the following year and graduated within four years. The next year, last year, I worked, over the course of one year, 3 part time jobs and two full time jobs. I also spent two of those months unemployed despite applying to approximately 30 jobs.

My sister graduated from high school last month. Since then she has moved to South America to go to college. My parents couldn’t argue: the university there charges only minimal fees so even with her renting & furnishing an apartment close to the university and international airfare of $2,000 once a year for the next five years, they will pay, give or take, $40,000. That’s the cost of one year at a decent private college or of two years at our state colleges. I certainly can’t complain. Because I’m still listed as a dependent and because my dad earns too much for me to get decent financial aid, paying for graduate school looked daunting. With my sister’s college fund (started by grandfather before he died 15 years ago) sitting virtually unused, my parents offered to pay for my first year of graduate school. I do not know how I got this lucky.

Barring any disasters, major or minor, I will graduate with my Masters and Teaching Certification in May 2010 – despite the school telling me that would involve a virtually impossibly heavy courseload with no time for anything fun or to work. I currently take double a normal student’s courseload, work part-time, and am on an athletic team. It is a wonderful situation, albeit stressful in the way that a graduate student’s life is from time-to-time. I love grad school. But this is only temporary. In just over a year, I’ll have a Masters, teaching certification, and minimal teaching experience. Teachers with Masters earn more than teachers bachelors. Who in their right mind would hire me? A year ago, when I applied to graduate school for a Masters in Education, there was a teaching shortage. Today there’s a teaching job shortage. I’ve considered dropping out and just getting emergency certification, switching to Educational Psychology, staying on for a PhD just in the hopes of emerging to a better market, and becoming a hermit in a shack on the beach. The thing is, the state of MA requires a Masters within a few years of starting teaching. My degree is almost half completed and I would have to start over if I quit now and returned later on at a different university. My hope used to be that a school would be willing to hire me because they wouldn’t ever have to partially pay for me to obtain a Masters. I still have that hope but its pretty dim.

Like everyone else, I’ll ride it out. I figure that I can always fall back on nannying or teach English abroad. Neither is particularly appealing but compared the grave situations so many people find themselves in right now, I am overwhelmed by gratefulness – and guilt. Because yes, I’ll buy the cheapest bottle of grocery store wine, but I’m still able to buy wine when others are going to sleep hungry.

Cait
Boston, Massachusetts

Portrait: West Springfield, Massachusetts

West Springfield, Massachusetts

As the financial news gets wore every day, I look around and KNOW we are lucky. My husband holds a management position for a local company; a book bindery. In a tough economy like this, the bindery does not usually LOSE business, it may even do better-When school districts can't afford to throw out old battered textbooks and buy new ones, the have their old books rebound.

I worked part time after our 18 month old son was born, and since I worked from home, he stayed home with me. However, when he entered the toddler stage, it was time to leave my job and focus on him full time, and I quit in mid-January. I can't even convey the nervousness I feel at the thought of going down to one income in an economy such as this.....But we are lucky....one car is paid off, we have lived in our house for 2 years and have a normal 30 year mortgage, not some crazy ARM that will screw us.....Still, living on one income is of course tighter than living on two.

And still I see how it is effecting everything around me.......My Father in Law lost over $100K in his 401K, my parents lost over $40K......retirement in the near future is now out of the question for my in laws or my parents, and they are all at or within 2 years of retirement age. My sister is about to be engaged, but workis slowing down for my Dad, so no one knows where the money to have a wedding will come from.

The Springfield Mayor announced they will be laying off 89 city workers immediately. Every time I am at the mall, I notice a new vacant store space that has just gone out of business.

Though my husband's job is secure and financially we seem to be okay, I am still scared. I am always looking for ways to save a few dollars. I take my calculator with me to the grocery store to make sure I stay within budget. I make my own laundry soap and dishwasher detergent. We eat out less, and when we do, we might go some place like Costco, where a Hot Dog is $1.50 (with soda) and a slice of pizza is $2.

I, like many others, try to just remind myself that: A) The most important thing is my family, and if we are pulling our belts in tighter just to be safe and cannot buy all the things we'd like to, well then, a person is not a summation of the things they own. B) we are very lucky not be dealing with a potential foreclosure, layoff, or loss of health benefits.

There have been hard times before and there will be hard times again-I have to have faith that everyone cutting back and learning to live within their means will eventually have a positive effect. Perhaps we will stop being a nation of spoiled consumers who equate material goods with happiness? Once can only hope.


Becky
West Springfield, Massachusetts