REALITY?: Buy ‘Merican

So here’s what’s gotten my knickers in a twist this morning:  As I was ironing, I noticed a label on one of Jim’s shirts, "Alex Cannon – Rowayton, CT" and this made me smile.  Then I noticed a much smaller label with the size, etc. and flipped it over to read, "Made in India." This bothered me for two days until I broke down and went through all the shirts in his closet, stopped at one hundred to get a nice percentage (and before everyone gasps at the number, he has probably a total of maybe one-thirty, all of them bought by me in the last sixteen to seventeen [we lived together a year and a half before we got married–ohmigod!] years and a good deal of them are that old), checked the labels as to where they were made and found this:

19  India
14  USA
10  Taiwan
7  Malaysia
5  Hong Kong
5  China 
4 each  Honduras, Canada, Thailand,
3 each  Singapore, Costa Rica, Korea, Mauritius, Guatemala
2 each  Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Egypt
1 each  Portugal, United Arab Emerites, El Salvado, Cambodia, Mariana Islands, Jamaica, Philipines

As we worry for America’s future being affected by illegal immigration, unemployment, inflation, and turn our backs on corporate greed (although being a semi-capitalist pig, I do understand the bottom line of profit and need to keep down costs, including the high cost of labor–such as it is), I can’t help but see a rising problem here and am sorely tempted to turn my own back on it because there’s nothing I can do.  But this is something that our kids (I have none) and theirs are going to have to deal with as times here get even tougher for manufacturing jobs as well as corporate white collar workers.  I may go through my own closet which holds about 200 shirts and blouses (I’ve had a lot longer practice of holding on to my own clothes; some may be 30-plus years’ old) and see if I can find a change happening over time; if there was a day when Americans bought what Americans produced here in America.

(NOTE:  When I could afford to have his work shirts and slacks drycleaned, the lady told me that he has the nicest shirts in Burlington.  They’re mostly plaid, like mine.)

Now when I started using computers I used to defend even the most difficult to understand service technician because they knew what they were talking about and were most helpful and courteous.  But then, I was under the impression that I was speaking with someone who was talking on a phone planted somewhere in the United States.  I no longer even bother calling for help without first exhausting all resources: my own bit of experience, my computer geek friends, a pile of books and next to last, Microsoft’s "Help" button.