That’s how it feels anyway… tonight Washington Mutual was taken over by regulators and its deposits were practically given away to JP Morgan Chase. Investors stand to lose everything apparently, all because people didn’t heed the warnings as far back as three years ago,when the housing market took off for the moon while everyone stood around and applauded like the fools they were taken for.
I’ve watched my 401(k) drop by about 15% so far this year. Imagine if the Republicans had their way and we were all fully invested in the market instead of that silly old-fashioned and poorly performing Social Security trust! We’d be well on our way to wiping out even that lifeline.
It’s all very disturbing, as Congress argues about the $700B bailout of the market and huge institutions collapse around us. I’m torn about the “bailout”, but one thing is sure: I’d rather have a job than not, and a horrendous recession or a full-blown depression is not a good option.
And so I sit here at midnight writing this blog, wondering just how much worse it’ll get. There’s no encouragement to be found… no light at the end of the tunnel to suggest this will turn around. I certainly hope it does though, because the last thing we need is a financial disaster to top off the eight-year disaster that was the Bush presidency.
We’ve been reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books to the boys at bedtime for a few months (a chapter a night – we’re currently on the banks of Plum Creek…) and it’s such a stark contrast from the America of today. I find myself longing for that simpler time, when you could just pack your whole family up in a wagon and head off into the Prairie to claim a random piece of land and feed your family whatever you can grow. We had a little garden this summer and grew corn and potatoes and lots and lots of tomatoes among other things. I keep thinking – we could grow our own food in our back yard if it comes to that…
And then I remember that if I don’t have a job, I can’t pay my mortgage and I won’t HAVE a back yard. Pa Ingalls bought the dugout on Plum Creek, acres of wheat field and two oxen for a couple of horses, a mule colt and a wagon cover.
*sigh*