Transitions

We watched and did nothing as the world collapsed around us in an economic crisis the likes of which have not been seen since the 1930s. First the housing industry shut down: no one was buying or building homes. Residential developers had no clients – no home buyers. Their assets included large tracts of land, big ideas, and lots of potential profit. But all these were now fallow with taxes and mounting debt. They were bankrupt. By extension the dependents of residential developers, those contractors, sub-contractors, architects, and engineers, were the second to experience belt-tightening, then collapse. Commercial and industrial developers were sucked into this vortex of economic decline as fear dried up money sources and buyers. Projects either never began or stood silent, unfinished like skeletons weathering the elements. No work; no jobs.
We watched in the beginning as gas prices skyrocketed and the car industry was hit. At four dollars a gallon, people couldn’t afford new cars, or to even drive the gas guzzlers they had bought the year before. So the car manufacturing industry collapsed and thousands of workers were put on the street: workers whose loyalty was repaid with two days notice of termination. By extension, the dependent businesses – the dealers, showrooms, and used car lots – closed down. These businesses had been the backbone of many communities, having underwritten their town’s little league teams, soup kitchens, and church outreach programs. Later gas prices were to plummet to a buck-sixty a gallon. Probably a gesture by the oil companies to save the car industry and their own sales; but it was too late for the dependents. Their closure was final.

We watched as friends were laid off. Their struggle was difficult to watch, so we didn’t. We turned away from their needs to offer a prayer of thanksgiving that it wasn’t us, that we still had jobs, an income, and an uninterrupted lifestyle. We could be sympathetic but did we understand? We didn’t. So we went on with our lives.

Then, it was our turn. First we lost one job. He was an architect: skilled, educated, licensed, and experienced. Told on a Thursday, out of work on Friday. No notice, no processing time, no two weeks, just here today-gone tomorrow. The military calls this tactic “shock and awe” where you stun your opponent then overwhelm them. This was sensory overload, stunned beyond response. You walk away from the announcement stunned and confused. You get in the car, but can’t remember the way home. You pull off the road to try to think, but you can’t. You call your spouse – dead silence. Then two minds become one. How were we going to pay the bills? Keep the roof over our heads? Take care of our dependents? How? How? How?

We had watched. We had been aware of what was happening around us. We knew it could happen to us. But we had done nothing.