Being Poor Can be Good

Okay, this is not my recommendation for anyone's life. That you set out to be poor. Or underacheive. Or whatever it takes or doesn't take to get to the poor place. But I do have to admit, the poor thing has had its moments. Usually when I was younger and it was more romantic. But still.

Like, for instance, when I was in college. Sophomore year at UCLA. I took an internship in New York over the summer. I saved my money all year. I wanted to go to New York more than anything. And I applied-- offered free services-- and got an internship at a TV company out there (I know, but I wanted to be in New York!). And UCLA, they found me a roommate and a place to stay and I got credit. And my sorority, well it provided a friend in the guise of a Kappa from Cornell who was passing through the House when I was studying and she was taking pictures and I told her I was coming out to New York and...I was set.

Then I got to New York and met my roommate-- a spoiled handful, let me tell you. And our place? A not so respectable place that was kind of a retirement community or something-- it had to have been-- because there were a bunch of old people in the lobby in front of fans all the time. The elevator? It never worked. The stove? There wasn't one. And the internship? I was working with two guys who talked about sex...graphically... all day while we worked. And them? They were getting paid. And me? They thought it was funny I wasn't. They were from money. Their dads both worked in TV. But New York! I was in New York! And the moment I arrived at said UCLA endorsed retirement community? Well, I had tons of messages from Julie, the Cornell Kappa.

Flash forward to a week or so into our stay. Lee Ann and I (my roommate) were cut from completely different cloth-- actually, I was kind of cardboard and she was kind of silk or something akin to that. With a flowery print. Yet, we were there together. So we went out. To Outback. To this cool upper westside (hot at the time) NYC bar that played INXS at full volume. Had bad boy bartenders and was fun. Julie provided the destination and we went. Lee Ann? She hooked up with a stockbroker who worked at Sherson Lehman. It was the 80s. He got lots of champagne and made lots of restaurant reservations and sipped lots of cocktails and... had two places! I learned this while Lee Ann fixed her face the next morning. He and I bonded. And he offered up place #2 for me. He had paid his way through school. So he knew what it was like. He didn't want money from me. He didn't want anything. He just wanted to help. And I knew he meant it. I wasn't scared. Didn't question his motives. I went with it. I just made sure Lee Ann could come, too. He wasn't really happy about that part (beer goggles much?). But he agreed. And just a week later, he was moving us into his place.

So there I was, living for free. At a total stranger's place. A total stranger who said he never stayed at the second place. And then suddenly he was. Because he thought I was fun, my friends were fun. And it was a pretty great summer. I had friends coming over from internships in Georgetown and staying with us. I had friends from LA coming over and staying with us. And I could actually breathe financially. Instead of paying for rent, I got to pay for fun. So I didn't have to be bothered that the nimrods I worked for had funny money to burn. I had met a cool stranger.

Anyway, that was my Sophomore summer. I'll never forget it. Rob DeFranco. It was the first time I had sushi. Or lived with a man... even platonically (my dad moved out at 4). The first time I knew a random act of kindness could change my life. And it did. Julie from Cornell became one of my best friends. So did one of her friends. And years later, another. And New York became a city I loved. A city I always went back to and felt understood in. I dated men from there. I celebrated birthdays there. So why LA? Well, I have so much history here. So many friends that are so amazing. And that is a world. The world I may or may not belong in, but it's mine.

And now, my friend Diane is on a plane to NYC. I'm SO jealous. I haven't been since right after the World Trade Center. Since a friend's memorial. She's going to stay with a guy we met randomly in the Four Season's bar in Beverly Hills during the holidays. And you know what? I thinks it's basically the coolest thing ever. We had a great time with him. In a few short hours. He's pretty funny and astute and was game to hang out with us. And he's a financial guy. Who knew? If nothing else, I consider myself an excellent judge of character (forgiving The Fireman and the ex-convict). I have a feeling this guy with two first names is now a part of our lives aka he doesn't know what he got himself into. But we're pretty fun. So not so bad. (By the way, Diane's not poor so the only real link is cool financial guy from New York met in a bar offering a place to stay out of the sheer goodness of his heart)

I don't know whatever happened to Rob DeFranco. I tried to find out. But I may never know. And the funny thing is, he changed my life. This random guy. Who never wanted anything from me but a good bloody mary and steamed rice. Go figure. I would love to tell him thank you. To take him out to dinner, go give him a hug. I would also love for everyone I know to have a random act of kindness from a total stranger happen right when they need it. Granted, not everyone is open to situations like mine. But it's amazing what you'll do when you need help. It's amazing who you'll trust. And just how great it can turn out when you do. And really, that's when being poor can be good. When it opens your world.