Posted on 05/24/2014 3:18:43 AM PDT by Cincinatus' Wife
There are many things any body can do that will help them gather and keep resources which, if one considers the generational accumulative impact, will result in eventual wealth accumulation.
For example, when you buy things like furniture, buy as high quality that you can afford, even if you have to go a bit into debt to buy it. If the table, for example, is of a high enough quality, that is something that can be passed on to one’s children. If they were given a table, that is something they won’t have to buy and then can use the money they would have had to spend to either acquire other nice furniture or they could devote those funds to furthering their education or to open up a business.
When doing it right, just about everybody can improve their situation or place themselves where their children will be in a better situation.
Most wealth in America, unless you were extremely lucky in life, is accumulative across the generations. If you came to America today, without a dime and worked like a dog from sunrise to sunset, you’re not the one who will be wealthy, but your children will be middle class and your grandchildren will be the ones to become wealthy.
Once again, those on the left with their drum beat. There is no slaves alive today and those that call themselves Afro Americans is a false statement. None of them were born in Africa. This is a money grab that will deepen the war on the races.
Yup, it’s all racial discrimination. I mean, just look at the shining cities and peaceful advanced civilization in Africa...oh, wait...I mean the rich cultural legacy of the Congo....no, wait a minute.....the advanced centers of learning and innovation in the Sudan...hmmmm.....OK then, RACISM!!!
There's a great wedge issue to splinter the Democratic voting base.
Those who never go to consignment shops or thrift stores are not thinking straight. I have found very nice furniture at both, and going to estate sales or moving sales is also helpful.
I have a kitchen/deck table & chairs set that is over 70 years old & I still use it everyday.
I attended a one room school in the 40’s & 50’s. We all had the same desks, pencils, paper,books & only one teacher.
There are NOT different desks manufactured for blacks.
There are NOT different books printed for blacks.
There are NOT different pencils made for blacks.
There are NOT different notebooks printed for blacks.
The buildings are the same—the heat-lights-cleanliness is the same for all the kids.
\Those who have experienced nothing more than a life of handouts will continue to expect that life of handouts.
Telling such people that those who are successful—to whatever degree—are evil and their enemies is just plain a game of baiting them to violence.
I worked hard my whole life, and often held more than 1 job. I own everything I have & have only a credit card debt of less than $10,000 total.
I am tired to the bone of hearing how evil I am for having ANYTHING of my own.
“This is a money grab that will deepen the war on the races.”
Absolutely, and it is a de facto admission that nobody believes the lot of blacks will ever improve in this country as well. A sort of acknowledgment of genetic inferiority, if you will...
Yes!
Certainly. Rich people do this too.
Why do you think they are rich? :)
That doesn’t go against my point. Most people in America buy things, but don’t put much thought into how long that item will last. That’s why Wal-Mart does the business it does, but places that sell real quality stuff doesn’t do Wal-Mart business.
A good read
Mark for later.
Reparations for historical wrongs (by our standards today) are by their very nature impossible to value. However, the effects of those injustices are plain to see. That’s where the confusion occurs. Those who wish for some form of “reparations” are just grasping for straws, just as those who are denying the effects of those wrongs are often blind to the disadvantages caused by those wrongs.
William the Bastard invaded my ancestral home in 1066. Where do I get my reparations?
What’s it say about a country where the idea that people who were never criminals should pay restitution to people who were never victims is taken seriously?
bkmk
I don’t think you are evil, but that being said I would like to have your stuff except for the credit card debt, got my own.
Went to a mountain grade school from 1st to 5th grade till the feds got involved and consolidated the small schools.
Our small school was set on 40 to 50 acres of creek bottom with the school up the hill about a hundred feet higher then the mountain rose up several hundred feet. The big field was perfect for baseball and we had a basketball court and baseball diamond made of sand, hardpacked. We walked to school about a mile for most some who lived in the woods rode a mule or pony. We had a swinging bridge and it was considered high sport to wait till the girls got halfway across and start to make the bridge swing left to right and back again. For some reason we found it entertaining to make them squeal. We had grades 1-4 in one building, 5-8 in another. The eighth and 7th grade ate first then left for recess then the 5th and 6th ate at the 7 and 8th grade old oak desks with carved names or intials and short notes pledging undying love for some long gone girl or the other. Two classes at a time till all were fed. The desks had inkwells and a open space under them for books and stuff, cast iron scroll work for the sides. The front of each desk had attached a seat for the next person that folded up, the legs were nailed to the floor. Our classes were set up as follows, 1st grade by itself, 2nd and third together 4th and 5th together 6th by itself (don’t have any idea why), 7th and 8th together.
I started school in 1960 at the age of 5 and promptly found I had an enemy the first day since we got into a fight, that first one started my education off right and we continued the tradition till I moved away when I was in high school at age 15. I found out years later the origin of his hatred for me, my dad owned a coal company and had the pleasure of firing his dad. I am proud to say that most all our fights were draws, the last 3 times I kicked his butt decisively. Since good things tend to continue on and on and soon become a habit, I am looking forward to running into him again and kicking his a55 once more some 45 years later.
We had 2 outhouses, state of the art for our region, the boy’s was rough looking and was a one hole setup with cracks in the wall big enuff to throw a cat thru. The girls had a two holer and boards you couldn’t see thru, I understand, seems girls are just friendlier by nature and hate to miss any opportunity to gossip about whatever girls gossip about.
We played basketball on the flat creek bottom and dodge ball at lunch and of course, the king of sports, marbles. This is where I had my first experience at gambling. Turns out playing marbles with me was hardly a gamble, and kids with great hand-eye coordination were widely admired and in addition to having a large collection of marbles taken from the dummies, of which I was a card carrying member, they also possessed the coveted cat’s eyes and dough roller marbles making them not only skilled but dam near unbeatable. We played for keeps.
Up on the mountain was also a ton of different types of sports. Paths crisscrossed the trees and brush allowing the larger kids to blindside you and laugh while seeing how far down the hill you would roll. But the most forbidden area was the cave, a 10 or 12 foot long crevice reachable by walking down a one person path while holding onto whatever tree roots or small bushes you could grab, the cave once reached was perfect for sitting, both girls and boys, and engaging in the strictly forbidden vice of SMOKING. I never saw anyone caught but learned that they disappeared and were never heard from again. The other reason the cave was so exciting was the high probability that you would fall after your very first cig, usually in the third grade, resulting in a sliding and rolling hundred foot fall till, if you were lucky, you grabbed a bush or tree. Next stop was another 100 feet and ended in the creek. Ending up in the creek was considered undignified and would lower your place in the pecking order by several spots.
By the way, our class rooms were heated by potbellied stoves and our water was drawn from a well. Getting in the coal and water were status enhancing acts that were assigned by who the teacher’s pet was that day,usually the result of doing well on a test the day before but could also be influenced by taking the teacher a basket of your first strawberries of the year I discovered, my fourth and fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Hensley was a pushover for strawberries. We also had our meals cooked on woodstoves by older ladies who resided in our wide spot in the road. Best food I ever ate except for the hominy, I hated the stuff then and nothing since has changed my opinion.
Each year we would have what was called spring tides, meaning heavy rains would result in the creek backing up because of the high level of the river and it would sometimes wash away the swinging bridge. We would then find the biggest rocks we could and throw them into the water till the top rocks rose above the water level. For the girls we would find the occasional board washed up on shore from the swinging bridge and lay them from rock pile to rock pile forming a makeshift bridge. Different story for us boys we thought it weak to walk the planks and would attempt to jump from rock pile to rock pile, unsuccessful attempts did have one benefit, you got to sit close to the stove till your clothes dried.
When we got caught in the infraction of some rule or other, punishment was immediate and effective. I remember Mrs. Alma’s favorite technique and tool very well from the 2nd and 3rd grade. Mrs. Alma, never knew her last name till years later and would never have dreamed of calling her anything but Mrs. Alma (don’t ask me why, I still don’t know), her technique involved your hand, palm up, with Mrs. Alma holding the ends of your fingers and by pushing down on the ends of your fingers with her thumb and pushing up with her index finger would cause your palm to bow upward. She would then apply the limber leather sole of a shoe, that was all that was left of the shoe, to the palm of your hand with gusto. After the mandatory 3 licks, you repented of your transgression all the way to your desk and lowed you head to the desk and encircled it with your arms. It was considered bad form to show any tears.
I enjoyed grade school a great deal and would be happy to relive those years again, I am sure I could win back my marbles now.
We had no black or brown classmates or any other color for that matter, so I can not speak on what they did or did not have, I do hope they had the same wonderful opportunity we did to learn from the finest teachers to ever grace a grade school anywhere, and an atmosphere of teachers allowing the kids to sort out their disagreements, even if it resulted in a few fists thrown in anger. They taught and you learned. One other thing, I never saw a girl struck by any boy or another girl, it was unthinkable and so never done. If a boy had struck a girl, they would have promptly had the crap kicked out of them, if two girls had gotten in a fight we would have turned away in embarrassment at the sight.
As the old commie Cronkite used to say, ‘That’s the way it was’, or something to like that.
They still have Leftists in Kalipornia and other places trying to pass discriminatory measures against Asians for college and stuff
I had a great-great grandfather who died fighting against slavery in the Union Army in the Civil War. Certainly I am entitled to reparations for that????
Actually, that’s a good example of real racial discrimination.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.