On a personal note, I must come clean about a problem that I have. I tell this story to illustrate how utterly hypocritical I can be. At times I give myself over to little rants about consumerism and the crap that accumulates in middle class homes, most of it child related. For a while now I have been indulging myself in those rants at the same time that this business has been going on here.
I have been completely seduced. See that one in the middle? Within five minutes of making her acquaintance and that of her ten-year-old sister, I was reaching for my wallet. Ever since then—and it has been a while now—I cannot throw money at those little girls fast enough. Food, coats, clothes, shoes, boots, toys, and on and on, not to mention the gasoline what with all the running around. I find that I cannot help myself.
Her sister on Christmas Day, carefully keeping others out of our photo.
Here is how crazy it has become. Recently, for reasons that only God understands now, I decided that they should learn to play the board game Clue. That goddamned Clue game in Spanish cost me 470 pesos, about $35.00 American. Four hundred and seventy pesos gone for reasons entirely my own. Now, I myself cannot discern any reason in those reasons.
The thing is, I am not a charitable man. I have never been a charitable man. As Christ said, the poor will always be with us. I agree with Him in spades on that. It is just that I drew a widely different conclusion from that fact than He did. Since there is nothing that can be done about it, there is no reason to give it a second thought. All that has nothing to do with this in any event. The money that I spend on these girls is obviously not charity because charity is a serious, sanctimonious business. It is not fun, and you can therefore deduct it. I am having a ball blowing non-deductible money on these girls.
But there is a limit. Somewhere.
What bothers me most is that I cannot help myself, as I said before. I am helplessly in the grip of this thing. Consequently, I guess that I shall have to turn my life over to a Higher Power one more time and enroll in yet another rehab program of some sort. But those rehab programs are themselves enormously expensive. I just got the institution paid off for that last one not too long ago. Moreover, I am not in the mood to sit around again endlessly listening to others run down their own problems in more of those circle sessions. How depressing is that! I would rather devote that time to trips to the market so that I can spend more money on these girls. You can see how I am trapped.
Let me now immediately scotch any untoward thoughts that someone might have about my relationship with their single mother seated there on your left in the first photo. Hell, I have been so squeaky clean and honorable in my relations with her that I disgust myself in that regard, too. For the life of me, I do not know what has become of me! Five years ago I stood up in front of a bunch of people at the end of that last rehabilitation that I mentioned earlier and insisted that I was a new, different, and better man. I desperately wanted to get out of there. I had no idea at the time that I might have been telling the truth when I said that.