A Fur Coat, An Exotic Pet, and Expensive Ketchup

By: Emily Guin

No musically inclined person can deny that the lyrics are clever and the beat is catchy.  In fact, it is for these reasons that the song “If I Had $1,000,000,” by Canadian pop band Barenaked Ladies, topped music charts in the early 1990s.  While Barenaked Ladies does repeat the line “I’d buy you,” reflecting the group’s benevolence, their priorities seem a bit askew.  Unlike Barenaked Ladies, if I happened upon a large sum of money, such so by winning a $20 million lottery, I would not spend it on a fur coat or an exotic pet or expensive ketchups.  And while a new house or a Reliant automobile, which they also reference, are tempting, I have another idea in mind for what I would do with $20 million in lottery winnings: I’d give it away.

I am an adamant supporter of social justice issues and an active volunteer.  Even if I did not feel compelled by my faith to eradicate the sources of suffering and care for the affected victims, my heart’s reaction to social injustice would still stir me to action.  My empathy for the suffering emerged at a young age.  I vividly remember a hot summer day nearly fifteen years ago when I created an infirmary for wounded bugs I had rescued from the blazing sun.  I naively attempted to nurture an injured cricket and decapitated worm in the shade of a blooming hydrangea and by providing hydration from water in a plastic bottle top.  In recent years, this instinctive affection has grown stronger.

Until high school, I lived in complacent oblivion while nestled comfortably in a picturesque, middle-class community.  However, as I matured and stepped out of my childhood bubble, I grew more independent and culturally aware; I was introduced to social justice issues.  It is almost shameful to admit that until a fall night at church during my junior year of high school, I was ignorant that modern-day slavery exists through human trafficking.  Although I have always been aware of and grateful for the quality of education I received at my public high school, until the spring of my senior year in high school while reading David Oliver Relin and Greg Mortenson’s Three Cups of Tea, I had never considered that there are little girls in some parts of the world who don’t even attend school in a building, but instead study without any learning materials and outside on the ground, vulnerable to nature’s whims.  Until the beginning of my freshman year in college, I had never heard of fair trade products and had rarely considered the impact that my purchases have on laborers in foreign countries who have no other option than to work at abusive American companies.

I strive for a just world, because I know that I have the potential to make a difference.  I know that my seemingly insignificant efforts to contribute a few hours to a local non-profit organization will make an impact.  I know that just $1 a day can provide fresh, clean water to a person in Africa.  And I know, without a doubt, that $20 million would serve to improve the life of someone in need much better than it would serve me.

However, I am not entirely naïve; I know it is easier said than done and it and difficult to practice what I preach.  I know that if I happened to win $20 million in a lottery, it is highly likely that I would reconsider sacrificing such an appealing prize.  It would be equally tempting to donate my winnings but only out of pride and want of admiration.  But I hope that I would have the determination and sincere concern to overcome my probable moment of weakness.  I hope that I would remember the powerful and lasting effect of relinquishing my prize.  Only living simply and giving up my own privileges will quench a strong, innate desire to serve a cause greater than my own. This yearning can be muffled but not satisfied by indulging in material possessions which only momentarily appease my mind’s fickle desires.  More importantly, giving my winnings to a person with greater need would bring joy to not only my own heart, but also all those to whom I gave my winnings.  Then the new joy of the recipients might lead them to reciprocate my actions by helping another person.  Since joy is contagious, this chain of giving would hopefully affect even more people.

So if I had $20 million, I would give it to those who deserve it most: those who have been victims of injustice—those dedicated parents who work fourteen-work days for $2 in third-world countries, those broken young women who have experienced physical abuse at the hands of a slave trader, and those destitute children who are so eager to learn but do not have the means for an education.

Besides, sooner or later a fur coat will grow ragged, an exotic pet will die in a foreign habitat, and those expensive ketchups probably aren’t as good as Heinz anyway.