Summary

The article emphasizes that no one is exempt from life's hardships, regardless of wealth or status, and encourages empathy and understanding towards others.

Abstract

The article "Nobody Rides for Free" discusses the misconception that money can solve all problems and bring happiness. Using Steve Jobs as an example, the author argues that wealth does not guarantee a happy life, as everyone is subject to sickness and death. The article criticizes the tendency of people to divide themselves into "us" versus "them," particularly in the context of income inequality, and the demonization of the wealthy. The author suggests that empathy and understanding towards others, regardless of their financial status, can lead to a better quality of life for everyone. The article concludes with a list of small actions that individuals can take to improve their own lives and the lives of those around them.

Bullet points

The article argues that money does not solve all problems and cannot guarantee happiness.
Steve Jobs is used as an example of someone who had access to the best medical care and immense wealth but still faced hardships.
The author criticizes the tendency of people to divide themselves into "us" versus "them" and the demonization of the wealthy.
The article suggests that empathy and understanding towards others can lead to a better quality of life for everyone.
The author provides a list of small actions that individuals can take to improve their own lives and the lives of those around them.

Nobody Rides for Free

No matter how it looks

Photo Credit — T. Remington / bench on Broadway, NYC

Coming out of a three-month burp courtesy of the Coronavirus that put most of the world into shutdown, it’s even more clear that no one gets through this life unscathed.

Steve Jobs had access to the best medical care in the world. He was worth $10 billion at the time of his death at the age of 56. I never got the impression that here was a happy guy.

When people are struggling to keep the basics in play (rent or mortgage, a car that starts most mornings, new shoes and clothes for the kids when they need them, groceries, the occasional mad night out on the town, lottery tickets) they can arrive at some questionable assumptions.

The big one: Money solves everything.

In case you didn’t get the memo; it doesn’t.

Let’s be clear. It does solve a lot and having enough money to cover those basics makes for a significantly higher quality of life. No argument from me on that one.

However, no amount of money saves us from being finite, fallible animals that get sick and die. Worse, unlike the other animals around us, we suffer when those we love get sick and die. Suffer to the point of wanting to die ourselves. If you know a parent who has buried their child you’ll get that one. If you are a parent who has buried their child….oh, damn, I am really sorry that you’ve had to to endure that level of unspeakable pain.

One of the less attractive features of the species is our propensity to divide ourselves into “us” versus “them”. This has led us down some sinister and horrible paths (Holocaust, anyone?) and doesn’t look like it’s going away any time soon.

As income inequality revs up and face-slaps those of “us” in the bottom 99% daily we have set up those villainous, selfish, greedy 1%er’s as a dangerous “them” to be taken down. Rich people aren’t people anymore. They’re parasites. They’re the enemy.

We’re ready to hand out the pitchforks and torches to storm the gates. Get that guillotine sharpened, dammit, we got work for it!

I’m not here to argue on the behalf of those unfortunate, misunderstood billionaires. They don’t need the likes of me advocating for them. But as we wall ourselves off more and more into isolated echo chambers of a strident “us”, brandishing outrage and urging action, we seem to have forgotten that no one rides for free.

The hedge fund manager waking up in the California king size bed on the 48th floor of that ugly ass new tower on 57th street is going to have days when she just cannot manage a satisfying dump in the morning. Sure she can summon a private physician to run some tests and prescribe something calming but, no matter who you are, when you can’t take a decent dump several mornings in a row life sucks.

Yes, she still should stop with the offshore accounts and she should definitely pay the help better and provide health care insurance for her nanny. No argument there.

But I also hope she’s able to take a decent shit in the morning. Chances are she’ll be a slightly happier person who might decide to give her hard working personal assistant a raise. Not holding my breath or anything but it could happen.

Perhaps, and this is a vain hope I know, we’ll all begin to understand that accumulating enormous amounts of money and stuff won’t fix us. That we’re still all going to get sick and die. That there is no “them”. There is only “us” and we’re on the same sinking ship.

There are no lifeboats and no one gets out of here alive.

In the time before it all goes under, however, I have perfected this strategy of tending my own small garden. These are the ways I kept a slender hold on sanity during the Bush years as many of “us” howled against the illegal invasion of Iraq and were roundly ignored by “them”.

I hold doors open for people and don’t snark “you’re welcome” if they don’t thank me. I compliment people on their clothes, shoes, books they’re reading, hair. I thank people. I walk to the right so the faster people can get past me easily. I scooch over and make room for people on the bus and train. I ask people how they’re doing and then I listen as opposed to waiting for my turn to talk. I look right at panhandlers and say “I can’t help you” instead of pretending they don’t exist (that may not seem like much but having been there I can tell you the worst thing by far is to be ignored). I do my work so that someone else doesn’t have to come behind me and fix what I screwed up. I recycle. I’m a good friend who can be counted on to take your call and show up when you need help. I do what I can in my own sphere of life.

And none of this impacts the life of a hedge fund manager who’s constipated. She’ll figure it out.

But what it does impact is my overall attitude. I’m less focused on what those greedy fucks aren’t doing to mitigate the daily catastrophes of the world. I sleep better. I move more easily in the world. I don’t spread the poison.

That’s enough for today. Have a good one!