“For instance ...?”
“Well, when I sold the house, I had to get rid of a lot of my stuff. Everything from furniture to gardening tools. And it turned out to be unbelievably freeing. Now everything I own fits in this van … well almost.”
“I fail to perceive the advantage.”
“Freedom, I’m saying. Freedom from the consumer engine I was geared into. It was just like getting out of prison, or a concentration camp. No bills come in the mail anymore, that’s a phenomenal relief. No utilities bill, no cable bill, no gas bill ....”
She stares for a minute. “I would suggest professional counselling. How would one converse with others, for example, in your situation. What of correspondence aside from bills? Have you no personal telecommunications device?”
“A mailbox. That’s as close as I have to a fixed address. And I have to admit, I do have one bill in that box. My cell phone is around here somewhere.”
“I find this disconcerting. You might just as well be on social assistance. A large part of our economy is based on consumerism. If many did as you do, our economy would stop growing – it would fail completely.”
“How much can it grow? On this finite planet of ours.”
“It has to keep growing; our whole business model is based on growth.”
“Well, I’m looking at another way, psychotic as it may seem. If I share my wealth with the rest of the world, it’s a step towards justice. I see an economy where things may not be equal, but at least equitable. I’m trying to figure out how to sell other people on the idea, I mean, there has to be something in it for them.”
“You are definitely correct there. People don’t do things unless it gives them an advantage. Are you aware of Adam Smith, his ‘economic man’ theory?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of the first Smith’s theory. Have you heard of the sandbox theory? Remember when you were a kid, building castles in the sand, didn’t your parents tell you to share? If adults tell children to share … it must be for good reasons.”
“Yes. It is the children who need to share. The reason this activity is encouraged is to mould them into team players. Corporations need people that work together. As you must well know, corporations are increasingly the basis of the business world.”
“But what if everyone had a house the same size, more or less, then everyone would be more satisfied, happier, and more productive. Now some people have huge houses and they produce nothing … then some people have a tiny house or no house at all, and they’re not too happy. Wouldn’t sharing as adults allow us all to be part of one big team?”
“What you are describing is basically the Marxist Leninist paradigm. And obviously it doesn’t work. We have explicit proof, empirical evidence, from Eastern Europe.”
“Sandbox theory suggests people might do it by choice, though, not because of government legislation. Those Eastern governments never truly implemented what Marx or Lenin wrote, they ended up with corruption and autocracy. It has to come from each person’s individual choice, and they have to see the benefit in it for themselves.”
“Such as a vague sensation of freedom?”
“What if there were other rewards. Take the perennial myth of heaven for the religious … what if that’s at least partially true.”
“Religion had its time, before the Enlightenment.”
“Oh, but there’s been a lot of new evidence the last few decades. Science points more towards a created universe than away from it now. I hear one religion condones science completely, saying religion and science have to be mutually supportive. You heard of the Baha’is? And a lot of people are getting spiritual now … so that’s my take, anyway.”
The pretty one looks at Sid for a moment, then away, out her window, off across the fields, perhaps seeing oats where he sees wheat.
He wonders if he is losing it; he needs to review the evidence. Jamie, Amy and Jo at the hall, repeatedly negotiating disputes over toys and snacks. The mothers gave one prime directive to their children. Share. The small voice has mined this idea extensively. Can’t an adult listen, and share what he or she has with the human family? To reap the benefits intuitively known to the children’s mothers, like making true friends to start. Beyond the world of business-team players, if there is a Creator, there could be a heaven or something like it, and why wouldn’t one want to have something with that kind of value.
He thinks back. The decision was a moment in time. Always having been full of grand ideas, talking the big talk, any time it came to doing, that’s when he started humming a different tune. So he decided to share. A sandbox child listening to mother; a religious person with ears to hear, an ex-drinker carrying the message or an everyday person with a bit of the spiritual. That spring, like his Uncle Nick, he set off to give the idea a chance.
###
“How did you arrive at – how did you term it – global average income?” The pretty one turns back.
“Oh that. Well, the U.N. publishes a Human Development Report, with each country’s income or Gross National Product … all in U.S. dollars. So if you total all the GNP’s for all countries, you get total world income, then divide that by global population, you get average global income – I call it middle income now.”
“So what would that figure be?”
“Well, in Canadian dollars and monthly, it’s seven hundred and fifty dollars. I call it Gross Global Product, GGP. Anyways, there’s this Prof in Illinois who made the same calculation, posted on the web, so I’m not the first. But our numbers confirm each other.”
What each person would have, if everyone in the sandbox shared all the marbles, the pails and shovels, the cookies ... this share-everything average, the small voice told him, would be what he would live on for a period of time, just to see if it were possible. A few months, that would be enough of a test, he himself decided.
“Then I assume you would be familiar with the average Canadian income.” The pretty one looks at Sid through narrowed questioning eyes.
“As Canadians, we have just under four times middle income.”
His hunch about being a wealthy world citizen proved itself true. Just being a Canadian, he has the option to move into a smaller global house, and the van is about a quarter the size of the apartment.
“I detect a problem with your method. In an International Business class, I found one is able to purchase residence in Mexico for approximately 25% or less the Saskatoon price. That would confound your numbers drastically.”
“Good point. The Human Development Report deals with that issue using PPP, Purchasing Power Parity.”
“And that is?” she frowns.
“PPP is the law of one price. They take a fixed basket of goods and services, like clothes, houses, cars, for each country and compare it to the same basket purchased in all countries … then they use an adjustment ratio. So even though housing might be more expensive in Canada than in Mexico, or wherever else, the PPP makes up for any discrepancy. You can buy more house in Latin America with a Canadian income, but the effect is evened out …”
“I’ll have to talk to my professors,” she looks back out her side window. “Looks like we’re approaching the city, how far in will you go?”
“To the airport. I’m flying out to Halifax to visit my sister. Then I come visit a couple cousins right here on the way back.”
“You could let me out at Circle Drive.”
“Yah, sure.”
He weaves his way in through the streets, pulling over.
“Thank you for the interesting conversation.” The young woman looks at Sid. “And good luck with your peculiar experiment.”
She steps out with her suitcase, brushing her hair back, then quickly losing herself in the jumble of city traffic.
###
Ambling in to the prairie airport, Sid ponders the day ahead, a day of travelling across the vast expanse of Canada. His ticket shows two flights on the way out east, with a stopover in Toronto. He is bothered now. How could he co
nvince someone like the pretty one, and himself, that he is still rational? He needs a complete portfolio review.
He finds a red plastic-covered chair near Departures Gate 14, noticing the bolts holding the seats to the floor. Security controls nervousness, just like courage – you can use either to overcome fear. He pulls out his notebook.
To start with, he had determined who should be affected. The entire human race should be the scope of his investment. One people, one earth – Baha’i religious posters had been popping up around him. Just say the global community could be one big family; a network of relatives that could, if they wanted to, all come together in one huge reunion.
Starting off, to fit the sandbox theory, an adult must play the role of a child who listens. So he decided to share his adult stuff. Assuming God and mothers give direction out of love, not to assert power or control, he made a rational decision to risk an investment in following those directions. Assuming there is a parent-like Creator, the Higher Power who gifts him with no drinking, he decided to invest in the share directive as much as possible – at least for a while. And now, after four months of a six-month project, his eyes have been opened.
He thinks back. What has he learned so far? In his notebook, he sketches the Witchekan Lake house, and then beside it, the dwindled Blaine Lake houses. Big-house people, he knows, have the option to move smaller and to share the equity they have left over so little-house people can move the other way … bigger. He traces out another diagram on the next page, where houses are more equal in size, scribbling $750 at the top. On a planetary scale, he now knows how big his house is.
A shuffling around him disturbs his concentration; he glances up to see other people rising. Oh yah, he listens, the boarding call. He stuffs the notebook in his backpack and follows.
As he stands in the line-up, he reviews PPP. Purchasing Power Parity rings similar to Uncle Nick’s purchasing power leveraging. But parity means evening things out, while leveraging means taking advantage of – these two clearly draw a decision line in the sand between.
He finds his seat on the plane.
There was a big hitch at the beginning. Having sold his house in the city and moved to an Okotoks apartment, he found rent and commuting costs were almost as much as middle income already. He had to adjust something and he hadn’t wanted to quit eating. Then driving into the city one morning, in an endless line of commuter traffic, an idea began dancing backstage in his mind.
He works fast to complete his sketches, lists and diagrams, and he writes descriptions of the spiritual market place theory so far, to be prepared for presentation to someone like the pretty one. He has tabulated a list of associated problems, and beside it, a column of benefits. Another column lists character traits – either existing or to be learned – necessary to carry the project to completion.
He settles in, needing a nap, and melds in to the jet engines’ roar.
###
The plane comes in at Pearson International, and he gazes down at the urban area below. As tiny houses grow, vehicles start to show form. Bigger ones become motor homes, then camper vans appear, parked in the avenues down there. So the idea’s dance became a city streets campground. No rent to pay. And no commuter expenses, if he parked close to work.
The airliner wheels touch down on the runway. Canada’s largest city, a mosaic of the peoples of the world. With a glance at the notes, he circles the words Urban Camping and draws an arrow to it, jotting one word beside it. Solution. The eager ones stand to de-board.
From the list of problems, Fear sticks in his mind. You can come up with a great idea, one that looks good on paper, but going out and living on the streets made him feel just plain nervous. What would other people think? Living at no fixed address hadn’t been mentioned as an alternative in any class, and he sensed neighbours might frown. Especially in southern Alberta. So he played it safe at first, camping while he still had the apartment as a backup. He circles Courage as a prescription for security.
He remembers that day, throwing his sleeping bag onto the bed, some food into the fridge and matches to light the propane stove, before heading off to work. That sunny morning in May. He just never came home that evening. He parked in his usual spot, a quiet one, on a One-Way street the other side of the tracks. After work, he simply walked back to the van, and instead of starting it up to join the chaotic rush hour, he stretched out on the bed.
Sid glances up to see a stewardess looking at him quizzically. He stuffs his notebook again, and throws this bag over his shoulder.
As he walks up the empty aisle, he recalls that moment. The wonder took a while to sink in. Rather than fighting traffic out of the city and down the highway, he just kicked back. Rested, he cooked up dinner on the propane stove. With rush hour dissipating while he dug in to his ribs and potatoes, he sensed a growing glow within. With his newly acquired cell phone, he called a buddy about a movie. A short drive to the theatre, an entertaining drama, and he easily found the same parking spot that evening. The light traffic noise on the One-Way let him sleep quite well that first night. The apartment gave back-of-the-mind security, and morning found him well rested, just a few blocks walk from work.
He finds Departures Gate 63, seats again bolted to the floor. A consistent pattern, something to rely on, that’s what allows one to not worry. The pervasive search for security – all people need some form of it in one way or another. He doesn’t feel alone.
It had been a challenge to make that first outing, but he kept at it. With a few more nights under the urban streetlights, another feeling gradually replaced the fear, a sense of excitement; almost a thrill. Now a real thrill-seeker, of course, would live out in the streets with no security-blanket camper van – sleep right out on a park bench. The little voice told him that. For him, he decided, maybe some other time.
Security, no doubt, is a primary issue when it comes to lifestyle choice.
###
A cultural mixture parades past his seat; they would have to be all big house people – who else could afford jet travel. He must be an exception. But four months in a van, being consciously frugal, has netted him enough for a plane ticket across a big country, even on middle income. On second thought, maybe there are others here like him. He looks more closely, among the business suits and attaché cases. One group could be a family, brightly dressed, greeting another dressed similar, white smiles flashing against darker faces. A relative, perhaps, coming or going … you don’t really need to be too rich to fly.
Insecurity breeds nervousness, while security overrides it. Fear to live out in the streets, fear of others’ frowns, fear was pervasive especially when he first ventured out. But facing it, taking security from inner belief rather than outer circumstance, he gained reward with an unexpected yet wondrous inner tingle. Was it a step up the stairway to heaven, and how could he ever explain that to someone like the pretty one?
Aside from the lack of bills and rent cheques, the coolest thing was the freedom to stop, to just pull over, inspired by any old whim at any old place whenever he felt hungry, to cook up a meal, or sleepy, to have a nap or a full night’s sleep. Freedom to park anywhere, well almost, no use banging with traffic authority. All in all, freedom from the system in a big way.
As he gazes across at the next seat, and his eyes rivet in on an article in a Toronto Star. Declining Happiness. He snatches the paper up. Happiness, it turns out, peaked in America way back in 1957, even though consumer consumption in that country more than doubled since. Hmmm, there’s some excess available to invest.
He gazes around, and a smile rises, like a bubble on its way up from the ocean floor. Happiness is the first label to tag onto that bubble smile, but there’s more. Could it be a little of the more-than-happiness Uncle Nick had speculated on? Talk of joy runs common in AA meetings; the idea is if you do the more difficult for a higher purpose, you get joy from a deeper source. Maybe …
People shuffle, and he is faster this time.
He s
ettles in. Of course there was hygiene. But with a locker room membership at work, a daily shower was his. And having searched out a doughnut shop or two in the city, not only to become a regular patron of their cream pies, he felt covered for any emergency facilities requirement.
The window frames a view of the busy airport. Some rain clouds threaten, zipping him back to thunderstorm church … the sermon in the Fairmont with Andrew. The mystery of nature breathes into him, so peculiar, that’s it’s here in such a big city.
###
His seat shakes as a large black man sits next to him.
Sid leans back, closing his eyes. Losing all that consumer weight, well, it almost felt like being dug out of a snow avalanche. He chuckles, freedom, he whispers.
“Freedom?” The large one is distracted. He swivels, lowering his voice, grinning. “You just get let out or somethin’?”
“What? Yah, well, kind of.”
The fellow’s eyes open wide, and his smile dims.
“You know, it was the prison of the system, keeping up with the Joneses, doing what everyone else does. So I escaped, I just dropped out. I went and lived in my van all this summer … that’s where I found freedom.”
“You don’t like the way things are?” The large one has a twinkle in his eye. “Just you wait, the end times is comin’.”
“Yah, well maybe we can bring them on sooner. I took a chance, but some of it really paid off. One day we went on a hike and then we had a house party after. I walked out of the party, and crashed out right there – I don’t drink, that wasn’t it, but I never had to drive home.”
“I don’t drink neither,” he winks.
“You sound religious.”
“Seventh Day Adventist.”
“Well, I’m trying to invest in God stocks. You know, I could put all the rent money in the church basket or something like it.”
“Oh, yea, the Lord would smile on that one.”
The small voice in Sid’s mind rises to comment. The argument goes along the lines that he has purchased some God futures – all people in a middle house. And if the Creator has all power, certainly the dividends are high. God as he understands Him; his version of the camel squeezing a little more of its bulk through the needle. So he risks a run at the gates of heaven by tossing his global share into the common basket.