Snob hill
I had an opportunity to spend some time with someone from my church. We have a connection in that we both joined the church on the same day. She was baptized first. I'd already had that happen.
We've never really spoken much. I'd said hello a few times but I always kinda got the impression that either she knew Wendi or plain just didn't like me. Times change, though. People start to see you in a different light, and we had a little visit today.
And that's when I found out I live on snob hill.
She meant it.
My comeback was that I think my neighbors are quite nice. And they are. And I don't live on snob hill. I'm blessed to live where I do, but snob hill, it ain't.
I got to wondering why she thought that. She also told me that I had money, which was a news flash to me. My response to that one: "Somebody told you a lie."
It's funny the impressions people have of others. People make assumptions about me because of where I live but have absolutely no idea how I wound up here or that it's only by God's grace that I'm still able to live here. I don't have money. I just went through financial hell. And bed bugs. I'm still trying to get right after that fiasco.
Snob hill to me implies that somehow I think I'm better than other people. This lady doesn't know that some of my best friends these days are in the program at the rescue mission. She doesn't see the company I keep, or know that I grew up poor. I live in a nice neighborhood, but it ain't snob hill.
I shop at the thrift stores. Sometimes I actually buy things there. Today I bought a popcorn machine. I couldn't resist. I'd been wanting one for a long time. I have a pinball machine and now I have a popcorn machine. I paid $9 American for this thing. I had to clean it up quite a bit, but it works! It's a theater style machine. It makes great popcorn.
I went to Hobby Lobby today to get popcorn bags. I came back with these:
They're door pulls for my closet doors. They match my bed spread.
The Four Seasons, my home ain't. But it's uniquely me.
Snob Hill. Naw. Just home.
We've never really spoken much. I'd said hello a few times but I always kinda got the impression that either she knew Wendi or plain just didn't like me. Times change, though. People start to see you in a different light, and we had a little visit today.
And that's when I found out I live on snob hill.
She meant it.
My comeback was that I think my neighbors are quite nice. And they are. And I don't live on snob hill. I'm blessed to live where I do, but snob hill, it ain't.
I got to wondering why she thought that. She also told me that I had money, which was a news flash to me. My response to that one: "Somebody told you a lie."
It's funny the impressions people have of others. People make assumptions about me because of where I live but have absolutely no idea how I wound up here or that it's only by God's grace that I'm still able to live here. I don't have money. I just went through financial hell. And bed bugs. I'm still trying to get right after that fiasco.
Snob hill to me implies that somehow I think I'm better than other people. This lady doesn't know that some of my best friends these days are in the program at the rescue mission. She doesn't see the company I keep, or know that I grew up poor. I live in a nice neighborhood, but it ain't snob hill.
I shop at the thrift stores. Sometimes I actually buy things there. Today I bought a popcorn machine. I couldn't resist. I'd been wanting one for a long time. I have a pinball machine and now I have a popcorn machine. I paid $9 American for this thing. I had to clean it up quite a bit, but it works! It's a theater style machine. It makes great popcorn.
The Four Seasons, my home ain't. But it's uniquely me.
Snob Hill. Naw. Just home.
Comments
Post a Comment