Some words are so baggage laden they exceed all weight limits. Poverty is such a word. Unlike so many people sadly struggling with poverty, I live on Social Security in a 600 sq. ft. beach shack built in 1936. Yet, I am not poor. I worked for forty-five years and did what I wanted by way of travel and owning “things”. Now I live simply, uncluttered by excess. I owe nothing. And I live within my meager means. Currently, my only gov’t break is paying less in property taxes due to my senior status. Otherwise, I take nothing. I couldn’t. There are too many people living in poverty without a home, food on the table, or transportation. I have all three. Taking their share goes against all I believe in. Should I become ill, yes, that would suck me dry. What’s the cliché’? Can’t bleed a turnip! Living simply suits me. It highlights and emphasizes what is important to me: living with purpose, helping, being kind, and creating. Living at a poverty level does not have to mean being poor.