Friday, February 8, 2013

...and waiter...we'll have another bottle of Silver Oak please

On Saturday I flew from the nation’s capital to attend a weekend 30th birthday party for my first cousin (once-removed) in Scottsdale, Arizona. The US Airways flight departed Reagan National at 7:00am EST and landed at Sky Harbor in Phoenix at approximately 10:20am MST. By about 10:45am the birthday girl’s husband picked me up in their shinny-new 2013 Buick Enclave (the one you can start remotely with your smartphone) and whisked me away to my first cousin’s (the birthday girl’s mom) vacation compound just north of Camelback Mountain in the ritzy Paradise Valley region of Scottsdale.

The gorgeous desert property is a true testament to the consequence of American business success and the byproduct of old-fashioned hard work. It is one of two vacation homes (the other is a Minnesota lake place) owned by my cousin and her husband who normally reside in Texas where they own several GM car dealerships. It is also a reminder, at least to me, of another reason to appreciate the bailout of General Motors. Had it not been for that bold rescue plan which saved that company from certain doom, my cousin would likely no longer have their dealerships (employing over 100 hardworking people)…and they’d probably hold far fewer parties at the Arizona playground.

On this trip I stayed in the guest casitas nestled at the base of a mountain just behind the main residence building. Though it’s only a one-bedroom cottage, the furnishings alone make it seem markedly nicer than the home (one of one) that we live year-round in DC. My cousin’s Arizona place has a six car garage, a pool, sauna, built-in outdoor fireplace, BBQ/outdoor kitchen and a very nice gym. At least four of the six garage stalls are home to vehicles markedly nicer than my 2002 Chrysler 300. 

Needless to say I love going to visit my cousin in Arizona (or anywhere else for that matter) and reaping (essentially sponging) the benefits of her family’s hard fought prosperity…and this trip was no exception. It was about 17 degrees when the taxi arrived at my home at 5am in Washington, and as I rested poolside after my 3-mile jog in Paradise Valley about 12-hours later that same early February afternoon…it was just shy of 80

Aside from the perfect weather, my cousin’s family has also mastered the art of genuine hospitality, and they generously share the various amenities made possible by their hard-earned wealth without hesitation or expectation of any reciprocity. It is their unparalleled graciousness that makes these trips so nice…and I’d be flat out lying if I didn’t confess to enjoying these periodic glimpses into the good life…or at least an existence far more comfortable than my life and the lives of so many others. Their selflessness has also served as a guidepost for me, and though I’ve failed miserably, I’ve tried to emulate their hospitality and generosity in some small way. But while it’s nice to enjoy the all these finer things even if only by extension, there is something that tugs at me whenever I’m surrounded by such luxury.

First and foremost…it’s  jealousy. At the very core, there is this undeniable and a basic sense of personal inadequacy.  My cousin’s family had no more seed money or any other kind of benefit than did I…but they’ve clearly done better. The fact of the matter is they’re just smarter, or harder working, or have a greater risk tolerance and have thus achieved exponentially more. The second thing that I can’t help but feeling is less tangible…but there’s no question that it’s there.
After sitting by the pool a spell and cooling after my run, the birthday girl’s husband (my airport pickup guy…I also consider my cousin by marriage) asked if I’d like to hike to the top of the mountain behind the house. I should have known better, as this thirty-something, zero-body-fat rabid cyclist is the physical antithesis of my assisted living, commitment to flubber and trash TV/couch potato aging body. He mentioned the views were spectacular up there, so not wanting to seem intimidated by the young buck, I said “sure.”

Well, after about a 30-minute climb that included heavy breathing, irregular heartbeats and to me seemed like ascending Everest absent any basecamp assimilation…we were on top of the mountain. He was right…the views up there looking over Scottsdale were inspiring…and on this February afternoon of perfect Arizona winter weather…the experience was epic. Standing up there…one couldn’t help but notice the sheer enormity and scale of all the desert estates. They were everywhere…and immediately behind us was a near complete 40,000 square-foot complex that reportedly belongs to some Berkshire-Hathaway executive. There were 8,000 - 10,000 square-foot homes almost as far as the eye could see…many with huge surrounding properties that included pools, stables and even a couple of grass tennis courts.

Now, while I’m green with envy, I don’t begrudge anybody for doing well. Some of these palaces were probably the consequence of inherited privilege, but I’m guessing many of these beautiful properties probably belong to folks like my cousin, that worked without charity from humble origins. So, at least in my book, they should unashamedly reap the rewards of all that genuine effort. However every single day of the winter, I drive home through downtown DC passed hundreds of folks that are sleeping outside in the cold. They don’t have multiple vacation homes…and if they’re lucky, they have some dry cardboard and a couple of warm furniture blankets. I guess to me the issue isn’t why some folks have so much, it’s more how they can have it while so many more have almost nothing. How can one person have a 40,000 square foot second home, while millions don’t have any home or live in abject poverty?
I don’t pretend to have the answer to this conundrum, but while vilifying the rich that have worked hard for their wealth doesn’t seem to be the answer, the acidic and condescending Romney-style “47%” comments made by people born on third base while sipping Silver Oak and eating caviar don’t make much sense either. To me it’s about equity…and as I looked out from the top of that mountain over all that excessive extravagance, I couldn’t help but wonder how much better the world would be if all those 10,000 square foot second homes were say 9,700 square feet…so that at least a few more folks wouldn’t have to sleep outside.

The truth is I am fortunate to live pretty well too, so I guess a more honest question would be what am I willing to do or give up to make things better? Like most things I don’t have the answer…but as I go about the weekend in complete comfort, I’m going to try to think a bit about the people that struggle with so little…while I enjoy so very much.


  

 

 

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