What We Can Learn from Grandpa about Being Broke

Young broke folks these days make a lot of assumptions about the world.

The broke kids of today have settled into their poverty and embraced it, relishing in things like the daily rush (of lightheadedness) that comes from a lackluster eating schedule. But when confronted with the notion that their broke-assery is not at all particular to their demographic, they are repulsed. They don’t want to spread the negative-wealth. Surely no one has it as bad as them.

Well, kids, let me tell you – granddad has it rough, too. As he will most certainly confirm, it aint easy being old. His body is weaker, his memory more short-term, his ability to appreciate Grizzly Bear almost completely nonexistent. Where he sits when he sits down is where he remains. It’s where he sleeps, where his mouth hangs open and where he drools. His life is punctuated by unexpected instances of unforeseen napping. This is his plight.

But that’s just physically. Fiscally, gramps is eternally in the red. Some numbers suggest that over three million elderly in the US fall below the poverty line. Sure, you may share a microscopic flat with some of the poorest people you know – but at least you can run from the landlord. Grandpa wouldn’t even make it out the door.

Which is why our elders deserve more respect. Sure, they lived, and often fought, through world wars, and we’ll concede that have likely presided over America’s greatest years – but their significance transcends the textbook historical.  We have much more to learn from our grandparents than the “value of hard work” or “what it means to give nana a ring every now and then.” Our grandparents can teach us what it means to be broke, and if we listen closely enough, we may be able to fill in their blanks.

One thing that grandparents seem to love, despite its inherent wastefulness, is buying books about saving money. One tome, as prized as it is outdated, is Matthew’s Lesko’s mammoth “Free Stuff of Seniors.” Lesko, if you recall, is the bespekeled sage who, doing his best Riddler impersonation, gesticulates people into buying his books – all of which follow an identical formula: There is free money out there, and the only person that is going to help you find it is you. And two payments of $19.95. No COD.

The legitimacy of Lesko’s claims (far) aside, it is pretty easy to see why so many are compelled by him – and its more than his punctuated wardrobe. Lesko speaks to the heart of the elder broke-ass, the geriatric accustomed to the benevolent palms of government. Lekso paints a picture of a government so inundated by the the tools of its excess that it lacks the resources and ability to tell anyone about it. The government, it seems, is just as inattentive as the rest of us. But not Lesko. The cover of “Free Stuff for Seniors” presents a caricatured portrait of the author. A stream of water flows from the Capitol Building, flanked by tennis rackets, prescription medication, travel pamphlets, and, of course, money. Grandpa’s enthusiasm  at seeing all of these things is certainly understandable.

This might be grounds for criticism until you just how similar you and your grandparents actually are. The existence of “Free Stuff for Seniors” is echoed and and expanded every day on the Internet. Like those who came before us, we are always looking for a good deal, a freebie, a handout – and it is the internet that provides us with infinite opportunities to obtain the deals we seek. We reach then, a conclusion: Beyond the genetic material that links us with our grandparents, we share a similar lineage of economy. We’re all broke-asses. It’s the chain that links us all.