Being wealthy at Christmastime in old-time Phoenix


It's December 1st, and it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, even here in Glendale, where I live, which is a suburb of Phoenix. And as I walked for my coffee this morning I got to thinking how lucky I am. I have a nice warm house to come home to, I have enough money to pay ninety-seven cents (plus tax) for a cup of coffee, and so on. Whether someone would describe that as being wealthy, of course, depends on them. So of course now I'm thinking about what it would have meant to have been wealthy at Christmastime in old-time Phoenix.

Of course, no one ever says that they're wealthy, or rich. In a long life I've known people who seem to be rich beyond the dreams of avarice, but to them of course they're not. It doesn't seem to matter how palatial someone's home is, or how many expensive cars they have, no one has ever said to me, "Hey, I'm rich!" or "I'm wealthy!" It's all a matter of point of view.

It was a bit nippy this morning, in the forties, and as I walked back to my snug little home, I noticed some people who would consider me very wealthy. The people that I usually see in the morning aren't really walking for fitness, they're walking because they have to. There are people walking to the bus stop, there are people riding bicycles that look as if they're held together with baling wire and hope.

Like Los Angeles, Phoenix has always attracted people who want to get away from the snow and cold. And I don't mean just snowbirds, I mean the people who slept in a livery stable, or next to a dumpster, and moved along before most of us are up and around. I've always been someone who's walked, especially early in the morning, and I've seen these people from the beaches of Santa Barbara to the loading zones of Peoria. They aren't necessarily "down on their luck", although many are, some are simply transients, people who choose to not have mortgages, or pay for credit cards, or to be tied down by some ink stains that have dried upon some lines. For them, wealth is freedom, measured differently than how most people see it.

OK, I won't get all Dickensy here on you - I don't see anything remotely pleasant in shivering next to some railroad tracks along Grand Avenue, huddled up trying to avoid the cold rain in December. But it's part of the story of Phoenix, and of the human race. Wealth is measured in so many ways.
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