Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Since this whole loss of power thing, I have thought often about the American way of life.
There's something a little overwhelming - a little too big - about our lives now. There are a lot of pieces to this puzzle. I don't even know if I can adequately explain myself.
Firstly, I want to say that I am not "America bashing" or coming from a place of accusation. This is an amazing country, I am grateful to be here. My Rebbe said America is a nation of chessed (kindness).
My mom has a Wal-Mart near her. As if Wal-Mart isn't huge enough, there's also such a thing as "Super Wal-Mart." At the Super stores you can buy groceries, computers, clothes, you name it. You could probably even purchase a Wal-Mart employee, for all I know. My mom's store is nebech just a regular Wal-Mart, but a few blocks away they are going to open a Super Wal-Mart. When they open the Super store, they're going to close the "little" Wal-Mart and (are you ready for this?)...expand it! Something seems not right about this. These stores are going to be a few blocks from each other! Am I crazy, or is this not normal?
I keep thinking about Laura Ingalls, I've thought about her family a lot since we lost power. She was literally afraid the first time she went into a store. She had never seen so many things in her life. Sugar, flour, tobacco, bolts of calico, gun powder...one aisle of Wal-Mart probably has more things in it!
Then there's the gas and the insane oil dependency we have. Suburbia was built in such a way, that everywhere we go - we need a car! What happenes when the oil runs out? I mean, I hope Moshiach comes first. Otherwise, all hell will break loose. Count on it.
Cell phones - don't get me started. People are so busy on their cell phones, they are missing out on life around them. They are so busy talking to their phones, they aren't talking to the person sitting next to them. In our quest to communicate more, perhaps we communicate less?
The blood is on my hands, too. I own a cell-phone. I even drive my gas-hogging minivan to Wal-Mart. There's something wrong with this picture, though. This life is so big and material. It's a little out of control.
Where are my nights of listening to Pa's fiddle, in the glow of our kerosene lamp?