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The Inflation

April 26, 2011 1 comment

The Inflation Special

I’ve been taking a break from the road for the last three weeks and plan on another ten days or so. The rhythm of life is very different here, but the constant concern with controlling expenses remains the same. I have this in common with at least eighty percent of my fellow citizens. No one but the very rich feel secure in the current economic climate. And the inflation is making it much worse.

During the last depression there was no inflation. But now the price of crude oil is driving up the cost of everything, especially fuel and food. This is tantamount to a very regressive tax, levied not by government, which would presumably give us back the money in the form of programs, but rather by private companies. And, to add insult to injury, the runaway price of oil is being driven not by the invisible hand of the market responding to a shortage but instead by un-regulated Wall Street speculators.

I call it a regressive tax because strong inflation, especially in gasoline, heating fuel, and food, always hurts the poor much more than the rich. A year ago I could buy three bags of basic groceries for about thirty dollars in my local (somewhat upscale but competitive if I shop right) market. Now the same three bags is about forty five dollars. If I don’t have it I must buy less food. The beans and potatoes stay in cart, but the fresh strawberries are traded for a can of pears. A whole chicken will make three meals for two people. The white eggs are a dollar cheaper than the favored brown eggs. I really must get chickens again. I could go to a known discount outlet, but I would have to drive further. Gas is over four dollars a gallon. This cruel calculus is my constant companion. Usually there isn’t quite enough and sometimes there is a dangerous shortfall. And I am lucky because I live in a semi-rural county with a ten month growing season. In the wastelands of the inner city and the rust belt it is so much worse…

San Francisco-Days One and Two

The Journey Begins

The trip began in a light rain, which seems appropriate. My first stop is San Francisco. I have been doing a lot of walking, getting the lay of the land. It is an interesting phenomenon. I know this city, have lived in it years ago and around it for what seems like forever. But now I am observing closely, looking with new eyes. I am staying with friends, and the time I spend at the home base is companionable as we share a meal or a bottle of Zinfandel. But I can see that this will be a lonely venture.

On the Road

I spent the day in the Union Square area yesterday, checking in at the dying Borders Books where they are having a closing sale—“Everything Must Go!” Including the employees, who will soon be battling astounding odds as they try to find new jobs.

In the evening I went to a Couchsurfing.com event at a local watering hole, the Café Royale.The way couch surfing works I have a better chance of finding places to stay along the way if I have people to vouch for me, and a few couch surfing “friends” on the website. The people were really great. There were a lot more men than women at first, but by 9:30 PM it had evened out a bit. They came from all over the world. It is a truly international crowd. I may have been the oldest person there but it was not an issue. And I have my first Couch Surfing friend, a young

Everything Must Go!

man from Santa Cruz who is in the process of moving to San Francisco. This may actually work.

Meanwhile, in other news, Governor Walker of Wisconsin by passed the need for a quorum which he couldn’t achieve without the fourteen Democrats who left the state three weeks ago, and used some procedural skullduggery to push the union-busting bill through. That leaves me with a little logistics problem. I want to go to Madison first thing, but my plan was to go south and cover California first. It takes a little over two days to get to Madison WI from san Francisco by bus. I am torn…

Sonoma County in the Twenty-first Century Depression

March 6, 2011 6 comments

A Sign in a Cafe Window in Santa Rosa, CA

This evening I’ll be on a bus from my home in Sonoma County to San Francisco and from there, the rest of California. But today I want to talk about my home county, which is Sonoma. This beautiful little gem sits between the ocean and a string of mountains. It has a varied landscape, including redwood forests, a fertile central plain and breathtaking coastline. The climate is Mediterranean, but around here we just call it great.

But, for all that, Sonoma County is in the world, and the world is in big trouble. As I began to talk about this project with my acquaintances and with passers-by, a different Sonoma began to emerge. First, in the beginning of the melt-down of 2008, there was the mortgage broker I knew from a business net-working group who was losing her own home. As I began to focus on this subject it became more and more visible to me. In a popular Thai spot I was unintentionally eavesdropping on a table full of high-tech employees from a “downsizing” company. The lucky ones who had kept their jobs “for now” were treating their former colleagues to lunch and commiseration.

Then, some of the bigger storefronts began to go dark. Mervyn’s closed but Macy’s remained. Tourism is down all over as people everywhere down-shift their spending habits. The only group that has not down-shifted is the uber-rich. Lucky for Sonoma County, there are features here that are attractive to that demographic. There is a slice of Sonoma County tourism that is doing very well.  As a playground for the wealthy, Sonoma County offers high end restaurants, always full, wineries, quaint little inns, and beautiful scenery. If you can figure out how to be of service to these people you will stay employed.

As I write the official unemployment rate for Sonoma County is 10.5%, which means that if we include 99ers and self-employed people that have closed their doors it is more like 22%. I went down to the food stamp office at the beginning of last year and saw that the line was peppered with the newly impoverished. You can tell the ex-middle class by their dress and demeanor. The demographic that day appeared to be older and female.

Of the people lucky enough to have a job, some really aren’t so lucky after all. I have several friends that lost a job in the last two years only to get another one many months later with longer hours, less pay, and worse working conditions. But, if you want to keep your house you just suck it up. I met a woman the other day who was working a counter at a downtown store. She pointed to her name –tag and said “my father told me, if your name is on a building you are rich. If your name is on a plaque on your desk you are middle class. And if your name is on your shirt—well, you are poor” It turned out that she and her husband had lost a business that had thrived for twenty years in the crash, and then they had lost their house when the bubble burst. She told me that their house had dropped from $900,000 to $500,000. They were willing and able to restructure the debt, but the bank refused. Later the bank sold the property for $250,000 which is half what they were willing to pay. Now a speculator will snap up the house, and she is working retail for $12 an hour. Her husband remains unemployed.