Too poor to live in a rich country like America.....and my paradoxical life.

More than four years ago, when my mother died, I have to borrow money for my plane ticket to travel and attend my mother's funeral. This story is not unique or unusual, what makes this story, a paradox.... America is a very rich country, many people from parts of the world, had dubbed America as a country of milk and honey.My personal experience dictated otherwise. I have been in America for almost nineteen years, I am still broke.

My employers would concur with my self-evaluation, I am a good employee and hard working. I received a lot of commendations and endorsement from them. When the economic crisis hit our office, I volunteered to resign, in order to save a few workers ( I have two jobs then, till January, 2009, the agency where, I am employed, lost the client I am assigned to. Till today, though I am not fired, I donot have any assignments and "no pay") What makes make my case interesting is, I work with people, either physically or mentally challenged. Most of us workers, makes between $10.00 to $16.00 an hour. Most of us, have second jobs to survive.Many of my fellow workers are committed to their work, we just don't make the decent money we needed.We are underpaid and ignored.

I believed in hardwork and creativity, from 2001 till now, I have made attempts to start my small business, and yet has to succeed. My usual challenges were lack of capitalization and time constraints ( From 2001 to 2008 I had two jobs. I have to work at least sixteen or more hours each day; In short, I am struggling and juggling my "24" hours each day.).

Last Tuesday, I received an email from my nephew in the Philippines, my father had passed away.I was "numbed" till now, I wanted to attend my father's funeral, but I am too broke and poor, to buy an airline ticket, "dejavu" I sigh.

Perhaps, many of you have similar experiences. Write to me.

We were successful in our career back home and we were affluent. But as the saying goes,

"it is greenier outside our fence."

My parents were happy, after my whole family migrated to the U.S.A in 1991.We left our comfortable lives, in search of a more stable and comfortable life in America.

Till today, I could still hear my four year old daughter's question, nineteen years ago; Daddy, why is it our house, in the Philippines bigger (and nicer) ? Are we poor dad ? Yes. Then, I murmured to myself "In the U.S. we are poor." As of writing time, I still ponder about the same question, over and over.But, I am happy, despite I am poor, and broke. My only regret, I wished I have extra money, to travel and say, "goodbye father, till the green,green grass of our final home, we will meet again and we will be a family, only this time, it is forever."

Rodolfo

jd.phd.2togo@gmail.com