Money Changes Everything?

We used to play the lottery when we first got married. Our combined income was about a third (maybe a quarter) of what it is now, and yet we found a few dollars to play the lottery. I've noticed it seems to be that way with games of chance-- those who have the least will spend their money in the hopes of winning more. And those who could afford to spend $5 or $10 or even $50 on lottery tickets don't play at all.

I hadn't played the lottery in years until this past week when the Mega Millions (is that what it's called?) was all anyone was talking about. So we stopped by a convenience store on our way home from date night (something we do weekly to the tune of $100, including babysitter) and spent $5 on lottery tickets.

We didn't win. Five sets of numbers and only two of the lottery numbers came up on two different tickets. I wasn't disappointed, didn't even blink. Actually, I forgot to even check the numbers the night of the drawing-- I pulled them from someone's post on Facebook. It was a waste of five dollars, really, and yet we gave into the excitement. The greed? No, because I'm not greedy that way. If I were... well, I wouldn't be a writer if money meant anything to me.

I didn't spend much time fantasizing about how I'd spend the money if I won some crazy sum. Not much would change, just as not much has changed in the twenty-two years since we were making 1/3 or 1/4 of what we make now. I've driven the same car for 20 years, I shop at the same clothing stores, I wear very little jewelry. Vast riches wouldn't suddenly make me a fashion plate, though my husband would most certainly insist I buy a new car. One that doesn't have a leaky roof, at least.

We go out to eat more-- or we did, before two babies entered our lives. Now it's once a week on date night, once every couple of weeks with the kids. That's a lot, compared to the early years when we might have gone out to eat once a month. I can't imagine we'd suddenly eat out every night if we won the lottery. That would grow tiresome, even if we hired a babysitter every night. Which I wouldn't because I like being home with my babies. Maybe a chef? But probably not that, either. I'm not keen on strangers in my house.

Maybe we'd travel more if we had a lot of money-- though with really little children, that also seems unlikely. At least for awhile. Bigger house? Probably not. Someone would have to clean it and, as I said, I'm not one to have strangers in my house. I can't imagine having a staff of people at my beck and call. It would make me uncomfortable.

I'd keep writing, of course. I'll never not write. But I love my computer, I love where I work (the nearby Starbucks), I love what I do. I love my life, mostly. Wealth wouldn't change much for me. Like Lisabet, I'd give away a lot of it. But first I'd pay off the kids' college funds that we've started for them and put money in the bank for them to be secure-- as secure as money can buy. I'd pay off our debts, put more in the retirement fund. Start college funds, build children's playgrounds, create grants for writers, buy a plot of land somewhere and start a writers' retreat. Stuff like that. I'd probably end up being a very eccentric philanthropist, giving piles of cash away like some dotty old grandmother doling out strawberry candies. Sounds like fun, actually.

I'm lucky and I know it. I'm lucky that my life is comfortable. That, even if I have bills and credit card debt, I have a nice house in a middle class neighborhood, plenty of food in the refrigerator and pantry, two cars to drive, health care and a Starbucks gold card with enough money on it to buy my daily coffee. I have clothes and a credit card to buy more. We can afford to take care of our children and buy them clothes and books and toys and too many treats. When they're a little older, we'll be able to afford to take them to Disney World and buy them matching Mickey Mouse ears. I want to take them to London and Paris, too. We can do it, if we put some money aside for a year or so. It won't be a hardship.

I am lucky. The lottery would not change or increase that luck-- you can pour water into a glass all day long and it will only get so full no matter how much water you pour-- and yet I can see the good that could be done with that kind of money. The good I could do with that kind of money. And I wonder why all those who are rich-- the 1% as they've come to be known-- don't realize that. Or do they? I know there are many wealthy people who give their money away. I read recently that J.K. Rowling is no longer a billionaire because she has given away so much of her Harry Potter wealth. Good for her. Warren Buffett has given away much of his wealth, too. There are others. But I think they're in the minority among those who own a fleet of cars and ten houses and gold-plated... everything. Those who think money buys happiness and so they buy and buy and buy.

I'll never get to show the world what I could do with a billion dollars-- or even a million. Not that I lack ambition, but my particular career doesn't make many millionaires and it's unlikely I'll ever be one of them. My luck doesn't run that way and I'm okay with it. But someone did win those many, many millions last weekend. Several people won a lot of money for doing nothing more than buying a ticket for a dollar. And so I hope they realize the wealth they've been given-- the luck they have fallen into-- is more than money, it's a chance to change the world and make it a better place. But what do I know? I don't have a gold-plated anything.

The Red Umbrella

Not all problems can be solved by throwing money at them, but problems caused by a lack of money dissolve like sugar in water when money is added.

Given a large fortune, of course I would take care of myself and those close to me first. (In real life, I used part of my inheritance to make the down-payments on single-story houses for my two stepsons.) Would a luxurious house, frequent trips, fine clothes and a world-class collection of art make me (and my spouse) happy? Not completely.

The world at large needs so much improvement. Spouse has talked about wanting to set up a scholarship program for poor but deserving Latino kids, much like that run by Carlos Santana in the U.S. She also has an interest in those who “fall through the cracks” of systems intended to help them, including those with physical and mental disabilities (to use a label which is often misleading). Those are the people she works with in her current job.

With our unlimited imaginary fortune, Spouse could fund all the causes dear to her heart.

I have my own plan. I’ll call it the Red Umbrella, a foundation for current and former sex workers. Note that this organization would not have the mandate of “rescuing” sex workers from the “degradation” of sex work. Its mandate would be to rescue them from the need for money, a different goal. There would be scholarships for those who want to study or train for any career, including administration and/or accounting (which could qualify them to run successful escort agencies). There would be several conditions: my minions in the sex trade would determine which applicants are really there, and not just money-hungry; scholarship-holders would be free to continue turning tricks while enrolled in academic or training programs, BUT they would have to maintain a certain grade-point average and report their incomes. Quality housing and child-care would be provided.

There would be programs to address the special needs of male and transgender sex workers.

The Red Umbrella would include an educational and lobbying component which would apply pressure to all relevant branches of government to legalize sex work and treat it like other jobs that are taxable and unionized. Health care and pensions should be part of the package.

Do I need to add that the Red Umbrella would sponsor political candidates who include sex workers' rights in their platforms?

The real founder of this movement (me) would not be visible in the media, if it could be avoided. I would do hands-on work while trying to keep my fortune out of the public eye. (This might involve extra expenditures.)

But the Red Umbrella would be all about visibility. Board members would give press conferences about the unsolved murders of sex workers, hire private investigators and keep these cases in the media to an extent that would embarrass communities -- not to mention local & federal police -- into action. (Note: this is how lynching stopped being a socially-acceptable part of the culture of the American South.)

Local chapters of the Red Umbrella would honour the memories of martyred sex workers by naming programs and buildings after them. (Elaine Flowers and Jewel Gambler are two that come to my mind, though even local feminists who oppose violence against women seem to have forgotten them.)

Of course, the ignorati might ask why I’m not using my vast resources to make a dent in all the “isms” (racism, classism, sexism, homophobia, hysterical religious intolerance, etc.). I would answer: Can you think of a better way?