Bob and Ken’s invitation was to come and celebrate the last weekend of summer. It was advertised as the last chance to wear “your favourite summer frock, best white linens or your hottest beach wear.”
No one took them up on the beach wear but there was a selection of shorts, capris, colourful tops and a couple of frocks. There were also those of us in sweaters and pants — too old or too stodgy to sacrifice warmth for fashion. Then there was the guy in the black, body-hugging leather pants; not sure where he spends his summers.
This was the Friday night of the week that started with the collapse of Lehman Brothers Inc. and progressed through the selling of Merrill Lynch & Co., the cash infusion for American Insurance Group, the setting up of a special rescue fund and the unprecedented clampdown on short-selling.
I knew that more than the summer had come to an end. I read the newspapers and listen to the radio and watch TV. I knew the world had come to end — that this was the worst market since the 1930s.
But here I was at a party in our neighbourhood, which is a fairly affluent area, and no one was talking about the markets. Despite my eavesdropping and joining various conversations as we moved from kitchen to living room to backyard, I could not find one single whisper of “Lehman” or “Merrill” or “AIG.”
In fact, no one seemed ready to jump off a high building.
Instead, my neighbours were talking about what they did during the summer holidays, the opera they attended in Verona, the installation of the new kitchen, the amount of money a certain couple were spending on a recently acquired house in the neighbourhood, trips they are planning to take.
Don’t these people know? They must have investments; many of them are enjoying comfortable retirements. Shouldn’t they be feeling the pain the media says is everywhere? Where is their perspective?
The second most popular occupant of the newspapers’ front pages is the election. Here we were ending the second — or was it the third? — week of the campaign and no one at the party was talking about the election. I can understand that there were no spirited discussions of the issues; even the politicians haven’t done that.
But shouldn’t someone be talking about the candidates? During the earlier byelection, Bob and Ken had hosted an afternoon with Bob Rae, the Liberal candidate, which a lot of the same people attended. I know there is political awareness in our neighbourhood. Shouldn’t there be some discussion of the fact we have no Conservative candidate in our riding? (He apparently got canned for advocating the use of concealed weapons in order to protect yourself.)
There was a spirited discussion of the Gay Pride parade in Rome, which, according to neighbours who participated, is more of a protest than a celebration.
It all left me feeling very disconcerted. Don’t they know Ontario has fallen on hard times? Is there a huge disconnect here?
Now, maybe, my neighbours are so busy spending money, they don’t have investments. Or, maybe, they are well-educated about the markets and know it is a game of up and down. Or they have already had a reassuring chat with their financial advisor.
After all, most of us at the party could be described as mature and, I am sure, have weathered a recession or two and lived through more than one market downturn. But no one seemed to care about the news that is rocking the financial services world. Their worlds are fine, thank you very much.
I was so upset that I went home early and found something depressing to read.
-TESSA WILMOTT, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
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