Changes in Attitude, Changes in Latitude

It's been a pretty cold winter (relatively speaking, of course) in Alabama. Our fireplace has gotten a lot more use than in previous years. Buying firewood here is different than anywhere else I've ever been. I've never been able to just find it at a store of some sort. Instead guys sit with their pick-ups on the side of the main roads, beds loaded down with chopped wood, and wait for people to stop and buy. It feels a little dirty to me, especially because I don't buy a lot at a time. 'How much can I get for 20 bucks?' makes me feel like I'm buying something I'm possibly going to burn, but probably not in the fireplace.
One afternoon I was out cruising for the firewood trucks and found one on a corner near the house. There wasn't a guy in this truck, but a number scrawled on a piece of limp cardboard taped to the side. I called the number and an old man answered. He told me how to get to his "wood yard" that was only about a mile away. I drove down this backroad I've never been on before, past overgrown lots and mobile home communities and a white and pink cinderblock dance studio that stood out like -- well, like a white and pink dance studio in the middle of a sooty, brushy, seemingly dying stretch of winding road. I came up on the wood yard and parked basically in the middle of the curvy street. There were only muddy ditches on either side of the road, places only pick-ups and ATVs could drive. I just hoped this would be quick, or that no one actually ever drove down this road, and if they did, they'd be going slowly.
So out of nowhere walks this old man. Or at least I thought he was an old man. He didn't seem to have put in his teeth that morning. He was wearing only one dirty glove, and the other hand was missing a thumb. He spit -- I hope it was chewing tobacco. His clothes were layers upon layers of things that had been cut or patched or were fraying. His outfit reminded me of the gas station attendants you don't see much anymore - when they'd come out and fill your tank and check under your hood, even if it was 12 below and sleeting. I'm still not sure if this man is in his 80's, or one of those souls who looks old when he's still young - a lifetime of back-breaking work taking its toll long before its time.
We chatted a bit as he was trudging through the mud, searching for the driest wood, and loading it into my car. One of the things he said was that he had to actually pay to have the wood brought in so he could chop it and sell it. $30 for the load to chop and re-sell. He used to get the wood at his jobsite, they let him take it and chop it. But now, "there ain't no work no mo'. There just ain't no work no mo'." I wrote him a check for $12 for my wood and started for home, his words still stinging in my ears.
I got home and started to build a fire. Meanwhile, I was telling Gary this story. The global financial crisis has been on our minds as much as anyone's, and trying to plan a wedding right now is taking a lot of creative corner cutting. I suspect it will also mean we may be compromising even more of what we want the closer we get, should this not turn around soon.
I just felt horrible. Horrible that here was this old man, with 9 fingers, chopping wood to feed his family, and here we were planning a week-long honeymoon somewhere that's going to cost us the equivalent of about 3 months of my salary. There is something seriously wrong with that. Especially when it's a very real possibility that one or both of us could lose our jobs in the next 6 months. So we fired up the laptop and got to work...
What we found, and later changed, is that we can go to Ocho Rios instead of St. Lucia for half the cost. HALF THE COST. Same resort chain, so we didn't lose the deposit. The Ocho Rios resort has a country club nearby, so we're getting 27 more holes of golf than in St. Lucia. It's the same body of water. I'm sure the sand and sun are similar. We'll still be together. And on our honeymoon. And in Ocho Rios, again for half the cost, we have the Honeymoon Oceanview Villa 1 Bedroom Suite with a private pool. No kidding. Oh, and the flights were cheaper, and shorter. Gary ended up getting a credit from the airlines.
I definitely feel better having made this change. Yes, it's nice to have a fabulous honeymoon to always remember, but we'll always remember it anyway. It's about us, not about spending money we may need for other things down the road. And this way, we'll get the golf and the sun and the amazing trip together, but not feel so frivolous and irresponsible about it.
By the way, the luxury is included, but we still have to pay for it. Want to buy us a romantic dinner for two on the beach or a couple's massage? Here's where you can help.