What do you do to live?

My host dad, to make a living, sells copy machines.

My host dad, to live, is an historian, a political scientist, and a philosopher.  

The beginning parts of these two sentences are quite similar.  The lack of a tiny, one letter word in the second one makes the difference.  The second half of these two sentences, however, are quite different.  Why did I put it like that? What am I trying to say?  

Let's start over.

My host dad's job is selling copy machines.

My host dad is an historian, a political scientist, and a philosopher.

Do you get where I'm going with this?  Let me try again.  This time I'll be more explicit.

My host dad's job is selling copy machines.  Selling copy machines is what he does to make money to pay his bills.  

My host dad, despite his (what many people would consider humble) profession, is incredibly well educated and aware, especially when it comes to history, politics and philosophy.

I sat at the dinner table for about two hours today, talking with and listening to- mostly listening to- my host dad.  The conversation, in I don't remember anymore what order, ranged from the Second World War, German philosophers, Greek philosophers, current day Italian politics, language, laws, and the political theories, ideologies, and cultures behind them.  And it wasn't just  a conversation that mentioned general aspects about these topics.  My host dad went through a number of both German and Greek philosophers, by name, and knew what their ideas were, their theories, when they were written and what inspired them.  My host dad knows important dates and historical figures from all over the world.  These are things that, at least at home, I only talk about with my fellow college students, professors, and adults who were at one point college students like me.  Intellectuals, you might say.    

In Italy it's different.  I'm sure it's partially due to the differences in high school education (no public high school in the States that I know of requires four years of philosophy class), but it's more than that.  Italians, at least the ones I've been fortunate enough to meet thus far, separate their jobs from their lives.  That's because Italians do their jobs to pay their bills, not to live.  To live, they think.  They talk.  They share and discuss and reflect.  Living in Italy is not synonymous with paying bills the way it so often- too often- is in the US.  In Italy, being an intellectual is not a profession.  It is not a title attributed to a certain class or group of people.  To be an intellectual in Italy, you don't have to be a college professor or a politician or a lawyer.  You can be, of course.  Or, you can sell copy machines.        

Why do we ask people "What do you do for a living?" Why do we use the expression "to make a living"? Have we really reduced the act of being alive to merely what we do in order to earn money?  

Had you ever even thought about it before reading this?  Will you ever think about it again afterwards?  I hope you will.  In fact, I implore you to do so.  The next time you meet someone new, instead of asking him  "What do you do for a living?" ask "What do you do to live?".  The words might be similar, but the meanings are completely different.  By all means, if you are actually curious as to what this person's job is, then just ask what his job is.  But if you're curious about the person, about who he is and what he believes and how he thinks, then ask him what he does to live.   

And while you're at it, ask yourself.  Look in the mirror and ask the question aloud.  What do I do to live?

It's a little scary how hard it is to answer, right?  Scary, and sad, and quite telling. 

My host dad, to make a living, as they say, sells copy machines.

My host dad, to live, is an historian, a political scientist, and a philosopher.