The Overprivileged

I step onto a zebra carpet in my Chacos and UNC t-shirt, holding the baby—my stomach drops. Ornate architecture, pristine carpets, rare pieces of modern art…no, I am not in a museum. I am in my “dad’s” brother’s house (if you can call it that) in Philadelphia. Complete with salt-water pool, four floors of garish décor, guesthouse, poolhouse,  and greenhouse (really?), this Philly mansion would’ve made the Fresh Prince think twice about heading off to Bel-Air. I think the best word to describe it would be immaculate. Instantly I felt nauseous. It was like watching one those heart-wrenching children-starving-in-Africa infomercials while eating a $50,000 sundae with gold flakes (I saw it on the travel channel once…). 

For some reason, I feel like I have said this phrase aloud several times this summer, maybe in random deep conversations or meeting new people or something, I don’t know—“Money is not important to me.” Let me preface the next paragraph with this: I have never been starving, without a home, or on welfare. I like new clothes, I am typing this on a laptop (loaner from UNC, for which I also received a grant), and I have a smartphone. But, I have received a PELL grant from the government in order to go to school, I have done work-study, and I have not had peace concerning my family’s finances. I surely hope I am not the first person to say this, but SINCE WHEN HAS MONEY SOLVED OUR PROBLEMS OR MADE US HAPPY? Seriously, have you EVER seen it work? What do you think all those rich moms gossip about? It’s the alcoholic grandfather, the sleazy secretary who sleeps with someone’s husband, the family outcast who takes a job in the Peace Corps instead of the family law firm. Money hasn't ever, doesn't, and won't ever satisfy anyone. 

But don't take my word for it....try on Patriots QB Tom Brady for size.

Matthew 19:23-24

 "Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God."

Meeting Strangers

I must be completely, irrationally, and embarrassingly honest. One of my most favorite things in the world is meeting strangers. By all means, take the window seat or plop down next to me on the subway, and interrupt my dinner if you think I resemble Scarlett Johansson or stepmom you haven’t seen in 20 years, because I would really like to meet you. I could people watch for hours on end…and I actually have. Because as much as I savor solitude like the last bite of a hunk of NY cheesecake, I just love people. I want to know their stories, where they came from, and why they are where they are now.

When the parents told me I could go into the city one day prior to the family, stay in their friends’ swanky SoHo apartment, and greet them the next day at noon, I could barely contain my excitement. Ever since I was a little girl, exploring the Big Apple (does anyone still call it that?) had been my dream.

The idea of sashaying down the street in NYC had me starry-eyed, but I figured with my lack of any sense of direction and knowledge of the subway system, I had better have a guide. So, my aunt and uncle who reside in Princeton, New Jersey, hopped on the train to meet me for a day in the city! When I arrived with my (you guessed it) iced soymilk chai latte in hand they were sitting on the steps.

Our first destination was the World Trade Center memorial and museum….something that had me watery-eyed and melancholy. The memorial is truly something to behold.

We had lunch on the waterfront overlooking New Jersey across the way and grand yachts and shiny catamarans on the surprisingly pretty water. I devoured a huge hunk of spinach and gruyere quiche (forgetting the slice of greasy NY magherita pizza I had as a mid-morning snack), and we even spotted a man giving his autograph to a patron.

Having lived in the South my entire life, I was a little flabberghasted when I was walking down the street and a random older woman pushed my shoulder as she walked by! I stood there for a moment, wide-eyed and bewildered and thought, This would never happen in the South. It wouldn’t and that is a blanket statement that I am fully qualified to make. I was also stunned when someone just yelled, “Sexy!” at me and the number of cat calls I received when stuffing my face with gelato on a Tuesday night.

When touring the city with my aunt and uncle, I was ever so grateful because the subway system proves to be significantly more convoluted than that of London’s tube network. There are few words to describe the New York subway. Some may say dirty or gross, but I say it's the most wonderful thing in the world. You get to see all these different kinds of people going to different places or the same places and you get a brief period of time to just wonder why!