1:16 p.m. | 2005-02-01
I Watch It Daily
I can understand being nice. I can understand being caring. I can even understand being giving.
And yeah, if I have 10 million dollars, I'd give it away by the handfulls.
But if I was jobless, newly married (to a research student none the less, little to no income), and was supporting a daughter going through college I wouldn't be making the financial decisions my father is. Don't get me wrong, he has money, but the only reason he has money is that for his entire life he's worked incredibly hard and he's never spent a penny of it.
I'm sure I've explained my father's tendencies to you, the fact that he coddles the Native Americans who frequent our house and feeds and clothes them. I understand giving. I think it's great that he gets satisfaction helping them. My problem comes when I see him leaving for the bank, like he just did, with Dave, the medicine man, to...give him money.
Give a poor responsible man money and you have my backing. Give an uneducated uncaring poor man money without question and I'll sigh and shake my head as you walk away. Because I know this man. I know this Dave character. I KNOW that he promptly goes to the liquor store with my father's money.
I know that he uses it for things that are not in his best interest. He buys, for example, disposable diapers instead of food. Now, let's rationalize. They DO have running water. Old fashioned cloth diapers DO function. We starve because...
It just frustrates me because my father puts money into an account basically every week (his bankers know him oh so well) that has his and Dave's name on it. So Dave can take his little First National Bank Visa card anywhere he pleases and use up what's in the account.
There are no humbling thank you's. There are no I owe you my life's. There's nothing. No Christmas cards, no smiles as I pass, no nothing.
Just greedy, dirty people using my father because he's the white man. And they think they deserve this revenge.