“Everything has its place and everything belongs in its place.” You’ve heard that before. It is usually first heard coming from your mom, and then repeated numerous times over the years. The idea, of course, was for mom to get you to put things that belonged in certain places to actually end up in that place. It’s never that easy – because I’m a man. And missing the gene that insures order, I had little chance to comply with my mom’s requests of years ago and my wife’s requests today. Somehow, some way, my socks get separated and end up found at opposite ends of the house. There is also strong evidence that my last known place in the house will be marked by some sort of disarray.
A couple of weeks ago, I talked about the social injustice that exists in the financial services world. Hard working families that are holding on to the lower rungs of the prosperity ladder, too many times, find themselves paying the de facto equivalent of a tax for being poor. Honestly, studies show that where poverty, race, and the lack of mainstream banks intersect, there is an ugly world of shadows, shakedowns and sharks, i.e. the alternative financial services world (aka the fringe economy).
It’s Sunday morning. I’m sitting in my favorite Starbucks enjoying a cup of Joe before I head back to work. I volunteer as a crossing guard at church. I got the job because I’m big enough that when they adorn me with a bright yellow, glow-in-the-dark vest and give me a giant STOP sign to hold, there is very little chance that I can be missed. The kids feel pretty safe.
My Cardinals are tanking. My golf game is somewhere between bad and taking up bowling. My weekend was so busy it might as well have been Tuesday and Wednesday. And some guy at the car wash wanted to argue with the young girl at the cash register because they happen to pump BP gas. So how’s your week been?