I’m always behind on getting my “book reviews” organized, they almost, nay, never get published until the book has been on the shelves for at LEAST two weeks. Furthermore, I won’t usually agree to review a book unless there is a chance that I’ll enjoy it, which is why one has yet to grace the pages of Pro Diligo. Keeping in PD style, this is not a review, but a reflection…and a modest one at that.
How I came to read “The Bag Lady Papers,” by Alexandra Penney is a story in itself, but the last morsel of it is that I heard she lost every dime she had, was a good person, and thought if I bought the book, in some way, I’d help to rebuild what she had stolen from her. It’s worth mentioning that a good friend of hers was kind to me when I was in the throws of sorting out my professional life (still am), so this was a way to pay it forward…or back. That’s the short of it, but far from the whole.
I didn’t know what to expect when I began reading the first words. I had about had it with rich people lamenting about having to ride around in a taxi, and must admit, I expected to roll my eyes through most of it. When you’re an aspiring writer trying to make it in New York City, hearing about wealthy people devastated by having to live without luxury is like getting an elementary school kid to drink a spoonful of Robitussin. You’d rather stay up coughing the whole night, the taste is so unbearable. I kept looking for a passage that would allow me to scoff, but instead I was confronted with an inspiring story; and it became clear why I was drawn to this book and its author.
Without dissecting the book, Ms. Penney worked for everything she had and had it ripped from under her nose by the notorious Bernard Madoff, whose story I do not need to tell here. I really liked her. I liked her choices, I appreciated her honesty, and idolized her lifestyle…even the way she handled her crisis is admirable. In the simplest way I can think of, she’s someone I’d like to take for lunch. I know I’d learn alot because it sounded to me like she built her life both deliberately and whimsically, all with a solid work ethic. What she feared most was becoming a “bag lady,” having nothing, being abandoned and alone, which at the time I was reading it (and still today) was all too familiar a feeling, which is why I found encouragement within its pages.
Not a day goes by when I don’t bring myself to the verge of vomiting because I’m so scared of being tossed on the street with no place to go. Looking into my future and seeing nothing but a black hole, the worry of a zero balance bank account looms large. I’ve nearly suffocated myself from unnecessary hyperventilation on days when it hits me the hardest. So when I closed “The Bag Lady Papers,” I literally thanked God. Here was a woman who built a life for herself, lost it, and found a way to get it back again…I needed to know that that could happen. I needed to know that if you do lose it all you still have a chance to make good. To have the life you deserve, the life you imagined. I always wonder how people achieve their successes and I’ve found that about 98% have built it on the backs of their parents, and their parents parents. As far as I could tell the author built her fortune herself and that’s a story I needed to hear.
The reality is, I’m still in my twenties and have a few years before I should officially start to panic and commit myself to working odd jobs 24 hours a day, like I contemplate doing now so every part of my day is spent building capital. In the very least Ms. Penney’s story gave me perspective, and more importantly, it gave me hope.
