On Yogurt, Moose, and Giving Back

Last month my middle son and I embarked on a 10-day, 14-college road trip in the Northeast, Mid-Atlantic and Southeast.  Three pounds of Twizzlers, twelve Dasani, nine cool local cafés, half a pound of peanut butter pretzels, seven “Bear Crossing” signs, five rolls of Spree, two iPods, eleven states, six Perriers, one pound of almonds, one unsatisfying café on the Erie Canal, and innumerable tanks of gas, we were home again.  I learned a lot about the colleges we visited.  I also learned that in Vermont they “take their speed limits very seriously,” and the trooper is happy to regale you with the tale of the hit-and-run moose death while he stands precariously on the side of a mountainous road.  (speed limit: 50).  Lots of learning. 

One of the things we learned is that mid-level hotel breakfast bars are about the same nationwide – at least east of the Mississippi.  Let me just confess now that I am not a yogurt fan.  I foisted it on all three of my sons in their formative years, and they all enjoy it greatly.  I tried kefir when I lived in Moscow.  Gelatinous milk product just doesn't do it for me.  I know that it’s good for me – watch any daytime TV, and Jamie Lee Curtis will smile and have you believe that her life is worth living due to a certain brand of this dairy product.  Still, in the past year, a colleague encouraged me to try Greek yogurt, and I have come to tolerate it, if not occasionally enjoy it.  So, imagine my delighted surprise when the third hotel morning into the trip, there were not only the requisite muffins, but also Greek yogurt.  The next day, however, we were back to the standard yogurts.  I commented to my son that I wished there were Greek yogurt at each hotel.  His response?  An askew glance and a good-natured but chiding, “Some people have don’t even have food, Mom.  First world probs.”

Yes, he is right:  the UN estimated that there were 870 million undernourished people worldwide in 2012.  Of these, 16 million live in developed countries.  All my life I have seen commercials about sponsoring suffering children, as well as heard half-jokes about cleaning your plate because someone is starving somewhere in the world.  However, I cannot see the connection between my off-handed wish for Greek yogurt and world hunger.  Just as a little girl sitting in Iowa, being forced to clean her plate does not alleviate a hunger problem in a village in Africa; my hope of yogurt does not instantly cause life-giving grains and water to be denied to someone on the other side of the planet. 

I am not belittling the world hunger problem at all.  My observation is this: there seems to be a proliferation of the ill-conceived thought that because there are problems in the world, those of us who live decently must not voice any desires for that which we do not have.  I guess the thought is that since we (not sure where the socio-economic stratus starts and ends here) have so much, we dare not complain, wish for more, or fail to drop a few dollars in the red pots at Christmas time.  I think this way of thinking is a problem.  Simply put:  because there are problems in the world does not mean I am not allowed to enjoy my life or wish for Greek yogurt on a rainy upstate morning.

Of course, I am aware of how offendingly elitist the previous paragraph may sound.  But, really, the thing is that there are groups of people (teens, like my dear son, are heavily represented in such groups) who feel that until the entire world has food and water, those of us who have shouldn't complain about anything and we should donate to everything.  It’s a bit overwhelming. 

On this same trip, we stayed one night in a bed and breakfast in New England.  A lovely place which was originally a lodging house, and, we found out later, was haunted in room 20.  (We stayed in room 27).  As a matter of convenience, the owners laid out small toiletries in the bathroom.  Please know that I almost always use such toiletries when on a road trip and if I don’t use them, I leave them in place.  I don’t hoard them, but if I use a portion of a lotion or shampoo, I bring it along with me to use later.  In short, I try not to be wasteful.   At this inn, however, near the basket of toiletries, was a request that we leave our partially used tubes there so that they could be donated to a local children’s charity.  Why is a tube of shampoo no longer than my middle finger, three quarters used being donated?  If the owners wish to donate to this cause, perhaps an annual donation is in order – but small, partially consumed tubes?  This has to be as annoying to the recipients as the request was off-putting to me.   

Well, on a 3700 mile trip one has time for a lot of Twizzlers, a lot of highly questionable music selections, and a lot of reflection.  Why is it that we seem to have polarized our society into those who donate half used lotions to charities vs. those who are above even mentioning what they want because they just go buy it without a second thought?  I fall somewhere in the middle.

I’m uncomfortable.  I’m squeezed.  I’m caring.  I’m annoyed.

I donate to our school’s various campaigns for umbrellas for the homeless, gently used books for our African sister school, and the eyeglass drive for the blind.  (And, I even refrain from the curiously cynical remark that comes to mind every year at that last event.)  However, why must the mentality of needing to always be ready to donate and not being allowed a wish for an additional comfort be confronted at every turn?  Has it become essential to think of less fortunate people every moment of every day?  If so, how, then is one expected to also “seize the moment” and “enjoy life”?  I suspect there exists a group of well-meaning but rather hard people who are working on a movement to ensure that those of us with even a small modicum of comfort in life are uncomfortable with our comfort until the world’s problems have all been eradicated.  The thing is:  that’s not realistic.

Some of you will think that there are political ramifications that I am missing here.  There are.  Others may think that I’m heartless.  I’m not.  I think I’m kind of normal.  I have a career.  I have kids.  I pay taxes.  I have pets.  I try to do good.  And, I am happy to help with causes.  I have learned it is good to donate and help.  Like you, though, I don’t want to always be asked to donate – at the bank, at the grocery store, at the bed and breakfast.  I have learned that I have it really good compared to most of the world.  I am grateful.  But, I think we are entitled to keep our half-used lotion for later in the day.  And, once in a while, I’d like to have a Greek yogurt on the breakfast bar.  I don’t need it.  It’d just be nice.