Member-only story
Money, Fear, Anger — and Love
When my sons were in high school, we often hosted Japanese students at our very working-class home. A single mom, working from home, finally owning a small house (bought when I turned 40, and with big mortgage payments), I almost never had “extra” money. And I had no savings. On the other hand, I grew fresh vegetables in the front garden, and cooked pretty much nonstop, from bread and pizza to soups and stews to big chocolate cakes that the teens would devour.
Our live-in guest students probably came from wealthier homes than ours. But we had big rewards for their adventure with us: a taste of America that didn’t come from movies or the Internet, a reliable commute to the top-notch high school in the region, and a teen-friendly household where food and clean laundry came without stress, study time mattered, and everyone laughed a lot.
So I didn’t worry about having a lower income. I had a home where books and music and art mattered, and discussions could range into at least two languages at a time, and everyone hugged. (Pre-COVID, obviously.)
The first time I did think there might be a problem was when one of the Japanese boys asked to stay with us all summer, so he could advance his soccer skills through the whole season. We all liked the idea — he was a great person and smart and fun — but I cautioned him: “I can’t give you your own room…
