The Big Piggy Bank
By Pat Racimora on March 3, 2009 at 11:00 AM in National Debt, Stimulus Plan, stimulus tax package
I am watching the little ones outside my window swing like miniature Tarzans on the rings. I smile as I also worry about what awaits them when they are grown. I envy their obliviousness to the adult world, and at the same time feel anger for what this generation has heaped upon their destinies.
The 787 billion American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (“stimulus package”) creates a debt of about $2,600 for every man, woman, and child (including newborns and those coming along to replace those we lose). But add to that the national pubic debt of 10.8 trillion (as of late February, 2009) and that piles on another $38,000 per head—including those little heads. The counter clicks every second adding interest. Ca-ching….Ca-ching….
I know these figures are not cast in stone because the stimulus package may work. Maybe we will somehow get expenses under control and pay a big hunk of that debt off before these little ones–who are now creating abstract masterpieces with thick crayons–graduate from high school.
We can hold on to that hope, but it’s tough when the unemployment rate goes up every day and the stock market goes down. It’s hard to know what to say to friends who get laid off and are losing their homes.
It’s also hard to imagine what a trillion dollars is and how much better things will have to be to pay off what we owe. But here are a couple of interesting factoids adapted from the
Concord Coalition that help bring some sense of connection with this gargantuan figure:
While there are hundreds of billionaires, even the richest amongst them only has assets equaling about 4 or 5% of a trillion dollars.
Or to put it another way, in 2003, the total economic output of only 7 countries was greater than 1 trillion dollars. That means that our total debt is over 10 times as large as the economies (not just the debt) of all but the 7 largest economies in the world.
So as much as I desperately want these kids–who have now switched from chasing the cat to running after Grandpa–to live the American dream, for now I must simply treasure the music of their laughter.























