I’m one of those people who believes that there’s a difference between being “poor” and being “broke.” When you’re “poor” people pity you and try to give you handouts. When you’re broke, you don’t want a handout, but will accept a “hand up” because you still believe that you can change your life and get ahead. I know, because my family used to be broke.
When I was growing up there were times when we didn’t have a lot of money. We may have been broke, but we certainly weren’t poor! My parents divorced I was 6, and my mom and I moved in with my grandparents for while until my mom could find a job (my mother had quit her teaching job to be a stay at home mom when I was born) and a place for us to live.
Once she was able to save up some money, we moved into a mobile home park. I know my mom felt bad that we didn’t live somewhere nicer, but she always held her head high and made the best of the situation. I, of course, was thrilled to have my own room again. My mom painted the walls, put up a wallpaper boarder (black cats with pink hearts) and installed pink carpet. I had everything I needed and most of what I wanted and I never felt deprived or “poor.”
My mom and step-dad got married when I was 12. My mom sold the trailer and we moved into my step-dad’s house. It was a small two-bedroom, which meant it was a pretty tight squeeze for the 4 of us (I have two step-sisters. One lived with us and one lived with her mom in the same town). I was pretty disillusioned with the whole move, so I spend a good deal of time sulking downstairs by myself. My bedroom was a corner of the living room by the furnace, since a pre-teen and a teenager who barely knew each other didn’t want to share a bedroom.
When my sisters and I were old enough to work, we got jobs. Nobody in my family is afraid of hard work and each of us learned from an early age, that hard work can change your life. We found niches that paid pretty well for high school jobs in rural Maine (waitressing, nannying, lifeguarding etc.). and bought our own cars. We paid for our own gas and insurance and used our “extra” money to buy the things we wanted (clothes, CDs, movie tickets, etc.).
Another time, my step-dad bought my sister generic tampons at the grocery store. She was displeased with the purchase and my mother agreed. “Brand name” tampons were something our family would “splurge” on. We never went hungry, but we did eat our fair share of cube steaks (hamburger smashed down to look like a steak), Ramen noodle soup and Dinty Moore Beef Stew
But one thing remained constant during those early broke years. HOPE! Despite the fact that we didn’t have a lot of money, we did share a common belief that things could, and would, get better. And you know what? They did! My mother got back into teaching and my step-father took a job with the state and was promoted into management over the years. My sisters and I became pretty self-sufficient in high school, and brought that work ethic and dedication with us to college and our professional careers. Thanks to parents who valued education and taught us the value of hard work, there are now photos of each of us at our graduate school commencement ceremonies hanging in the living room (thanks folks!). Frugal habits die hard, but we’ve traded-in our cube steak and generic ice-cream for porterhouse and ice cream cakes.
Broke, not poor!
Are there differences between “broke” and “poor?” Is it all semantics? Does it matter?
Image: Steven Depolo