By Chuck Thurston
Strange, but it doesnít feel like a recession to me. I donít see any fewer new cars on the highways. The radio is playing the same Christmas music it does every year at this time, and the malls appear to be just as filled as they ever were.
But my paradigm was formed by older experiences. I remember the vivid pictures of the Great Depression of the í30s: the unshaven, despondent men in slouch hats selling apples or standing in line for a soup kitchen; the gaunt women in plain patterned dresses, anxiety etched on their faces, holding hungry children in their arms.
When I was a child of 5 or 6, World War II had just started up. It has been given some credit for ending the Depression, but leftovers of the slump were still around in the very early í40s. We lived in a house not far from the railroad tracks and on a couple of occasions, men riding the rails ó hobos, they were called ó came to our back door to ask my mother if she could spare a bite to eat. I remember one of these men sitting at our kitchen table working on a cup of coffee and piece of pie that my mother ó who took her Christian duty seriously ó provided.
My own father had worked on what he laughingly called the ěBean Gangî ń one of Rooseveltís Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) projects. That designation applied because the young men worked for beans ó $30 a month, and $25 had to go back to his mother, who was widowed at the time. But five bucks would probably buy a lot of beans in those days.
I and my wife are lucky, of course. We both retired after long years of successful employment during good economic times, and as long as Medicare and Social Security remain solvent, we can live ó if not in luxury ó in comfort adequate for our needs.
We know, though, that numbers donít lie. The national unemployment rate has been hanging around 9 percent for a long time ó and there are regions where it is much worse. The 21st century hobos ó and I mean no disrespect by the term ó are standing on major intersections with hand painted signs announcing their despair.
What brought this on? Loss of job and house? Family and support dissolving around them? Lack of marketable skills? Yes, and likely a bad habit or two. Sure there are probably a few cons ó but no more than you would find in the average corporate boardroom. The percentage of scalawags doesnít vary much up and down the social strata. And looking for scapegoats solves nothing anyway.
As we approach the depth of winter, give some thought to those who are still trying to dig their way out, if you are one of the lucky ones. It is a poor society indeed, when the successful think that a good strategy is to pull the rope ladder up behind them after they have made it to the top.
It doesnít matter what side of the soup kitchen line youíre on. If you are ladling it out in the humbleness of Matthew 25:35-40 ó or graciously accepting the gift humbly given ó let us participate, one and all, in the ceremonies of the season and walk together toward a brighter day. We may have gotten here on different ships, but we are all in the same boat now.
Very recently some of the numbers have improved a bit. Itís not jump up and down for joy time yet, but just maybe things are improving.
No ó it doesnít seem like a recession to many of us. TV isnít showing us long bread lines of desperate men, no shadowy figures huddled around small campfires in the train yards, but itís there. Itís there.

Chuck Thurston is retired and lives in Kannapolis. His email is cthurston@ctc.net.