Occupied: Many voices, many messages, one main point

Posted on October 3, 2011 by 8junebugs

Raised FistOccupy Wall Street started in New York City on September 17. The protest continues today – in an increasing number of US cities — in spite of hundreds of arrests (Thousands? I’m starting to lose count.) and widespread accounts of…let’s call it “inappropriate police response.” For now.

“We are the 99%,” the occupiers say, and their demands are legion, leading mainstream newscasters and professional activists to criticize them for lacking one cohesive message.

A cohesive message, you might learn in a graduate communications degree program (maybe) is critical to the success of a campaign.

If you’re a lobbyist. A paid lobbyist.

These aren’t lobbyists or professional communicators. These are the nation’s un- and under-employed. These are our kids and our parents, and now our teachers, our autoworkers, our nurses, and the people who run our trains and buses.

They bought into the version of the American dream we’ve been sold for the last 30 years and they’ve got nothing to show for it. Or they were raised on it, post-Reagan, and followed all the rules, only to get locked out of the “dream” before they even got started because an unsustainable system finally broke down. They — we — continue to be sold out by a socioeconomic class that supports trickle-down economics knowing that nothing much ever trickles down. And our government, always in campaign mode, listens to that socioeconomic class.

These protesters are our neighbors.

And they have nothing — or nothing else — to lose.

To me, this is their most important message. These are smart, organized, well-meaning Americans who can focus their energies on this protest, many of whom have no better occupation or idea in which to put their faith and their talent. They hold advanced degrees and technical certifications. They “did it right,” and they’re still facing a lifetime of college debt and credit card debt  and medical debt…more debt than they can see past and little hope of relief. They’re our neighbors, our fellow Americans, and they can’t think about saving for retirement — they’re too busy trying to make rent.

Instead of gaining a little more to lose with every generation, we’ve got millions of middle- and working-class Americans winding up with less than they need, to say nothing of what they want. And 1% of Americans control more than 40% of the nation’s wealth.

This is our nation’s Reaganomics legacy: A multi-generational mass of citizens with nothing to lose.

***

Right now, I have a good job. I save religiously and manage debt and risk pretty well. I am temporarily able-bodied, healthy, and strong. I have and make choices — yes to dental insurance, no to medical for now; yes to BART budgeting, no to a new car payment; yes to some new clothes, not yet to new shoes.

I’ve been fortunate for a while now.

But even well-managed debt looms darkly over the rest of our lives; together, our educational debt is roughly double my brother’s upstate New York mortgage…and we each got one of our degrees for free (or near enough). We’ll spend our working years paying interest on the promise a future that only about halfway materialized, and we’ll scramble to keep that “halfway” — without it, we’re sunk. We’re only about 1.5 emergencies away from needing a social safety net that is fraying more and more every day, a safety net that will disintegrate entirely right about the time we may need it most. We’re fortunate and we’re okay for now, and we’re still part of the 99%.

Whether they’re wearing ratty tank tops and docs or khakis and polos, whether they’re on sabbatical or have no job to go to, these protesters are me.

Are they you?

Filed under: A life less ordinary, All the livelong day, Internets, NIMBY no more, Pop goes the culture | Leave a Comment »

All over the place

Posted on August 30, 2011 by 8junebugs

These days, I have too much and not enough to blog about.

Too much

Things are settling down and I’ve had more time to return to my old (entirely entangled) favorites: religion, social justice, and politics. I’m out of practice (a little) and still feeling a bit unfocused, so I’m hesitant to start sharing on topics that are even more inflammatory than they were when I was younger…and when I was more willing to engage in flame wars. There’s even less civility in our national discussion than there was when I was starting to get my philosophical sea legs, and I care far, far more about the outcome of causes near and dear to my heart than I did even then. Perhaps because, back then, I didn’t think certain things were up for real debate anymore, not Important Things like equal protection and the 1st Amendment and the cause and effect – and overall cultural value — of feminism. I thought these were settled matters of law that could only get better in a nation that claimed a reputation for equality and tolerance. I didn’t necessarily think I’d have a flying car by now, but I also sure as HELL didn’t think women would still be paid less and abortion providers would be assassinated and racist/eliminationist dogwhistles demeaning (or endangering) a U.S. president would be acceptable “rhetoric.”

This is not the country I thought it would be when I looked ahead from, say, 1996. I thought I was a bad-ass cynic, back then; today, 1996-me looks like a naive idealist of the highest freaking order.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time in the last couple of months getting into Big Discussions on Facebook, which, however ubiquitous, ain’t the right space for the amount and kind of words I think these issues deserve. The trade-off, though, is that anyone who engages here is subject to my commenting policy (“Please use your inside voice. Opinions of all shades are welcome; malicious comments may be deleted at my discretion.”), which I’m sure is less fun…which means less engagement. So we’ll see.

There’s a US election coming up, though, and I can’t imagine I’m going to grow more comfortable about the State of This Union between now and November 2012, so I can either start writing or bust the blood vessels in my eyes from finally reaching the limit of their rolling capacity.

Not enough

Confession: We haven’t been exploring the city hardly at all — neither the city we live in nor The City across the Bay. I had a sense, when we decided to move back out here, that this blog might become “All About The O-A-K “or “San Francisco For People Who Came To Their Senses And Moved Back.” But…we like being at home. We like our simple routine with the dog walking and the dinner making and the Dr. Who watching. We like saving money, now that there’s some coming in and we can, slowly but surely, replenish the Move Without JOBZ fund. And so we spend a good deal of time at home, and our friends and family have all eaten at more restaurants in our neighborhood that we have.

So, from a “Welcome to the ‘hood!” perspective, I have little to report here…unless you want a veterinarian recommendation, because we’ve seen a lot of that guy. First for an ear infection because someone let the puppers go too long between groomings, then because Westies are prone to skin allergies and infections, and again this week because some paw swelling and tenderness that manifested at the end of a trip to Gardnerville got better but didn’t go away…and Daddy is admittedly hypochondriacal when it comes to his Rodney.

Bay Area pediatric call centers? You’re on notice for…well, sometime in the future, anyway. (I am calmer about these things, but I think that’s because I grew up with big outdoor dogs who rarely saw the vet and, as often as not, died less by illness than by vehicular dogslaughter. I have no data on which to base a puppy-related panic attack.)

Yes, we’ve become Those People, the ones who refer to each other as Mommy and Daddy when talking to the dog. Except Graham will sometimes tell Rodney to “Find Jen,” which, unsurprisingly, has mixed results.

Anyway. Comfort with the simple routine, combined with how much time I spend commuting and working each day (and how little I want to be held to account for STILL NOT RUNNING), means I haven’t set aside too much time for blogging. I’m hoping to change that, because I’ve got some things to talk about. I hope you’ll stick around.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Courage, Fourth Estate, Happily ever after, NIMBY no more, Pop goes the culture, POTUS | 1 Comment »

Nightmares, real and imagined

Posted on July 31, 2011 by 8junebugs

Recently, we finished a monumental effort to steep yours truly in the Buffyverse. (I’ve heard that’s a controversial term, but it’s also awfully compact and convenient.) We’d debated this staggered, two-series marathon for several years – my personal pop culture reference database was woefully bereft when it came to the fictional adventures of vampires and demons, and the slayers thereof, in the late 90s, but it wasn’t a huge priority for me — seven seasons of one series and five of another aren’t, usually. And then I was faced with a voluntary-but-uninterrupted Cosmos marathon and thought to myself, “Self, one can only take so much Carl Sagan before one needs to watch David Boreanaz brood.” (Aside: One of my former colleagues talks exactly like Carl Sagan. But exactly. It must be the Brooklyn thing.)

So we picked sci-fi over science. For MONTHS. And I had nightmares about vampires and demons. For MONTHS.

I’m also all caught up on Whale Wars and we went into the new Torchwood: Miracle Day at full speed. We collapsed our usual pre-new-release Harry Potter marathon, and I finally made Graham watch Bring It On (with the help of a great deal of scotch).

We still have at least one episode of Cosmos left, not because I hate science, but because Carl Sagan’s voice is the world’s best lullaby. Plus? I’m going to watch it again later anyway. It’s brilliant, but it’s going to take time to absorb stuff I was never/badly taught as a kid.

Other than that, though, we’re out of TV to watch and a little TV’d out, if you want to know the truth. Until we sat down after dinner the other night and whined, “There’s nothing to waaatccchhhh.” So we turned on our previously recorded Gang Wars: Oakland, a 2009 series that claimed there are 10,000 gang members walking the streets of Mah New City.

“Great,” Graham said. “Now you’re going to have more nightmares.”

I didn’t have nightmares. I’ve been here for four months and I like it. I’ve lived in and around cities long enough to learn that you do the best you can to stay safe and waste as little time as possible being afraid of your neighbors. People are people, no matter where you go. Pretty much everyone’s doing what they can with what they’ve got, wherever they are.

Gang violence in Oakland is not my nightmare.

You know what is my nightmare? More kids growing up with limited opportunities, truncated education, and fear. Kids who can’t see any way but the one right in front of them. Smart kids who don’t get to learn. Talented kids without an outlet. Parents who think their own experience is the living end. Legislators who care more about being right than being good, or being kind. The “I got mine” mentality informing policies that’ll keep people who ain’t got nothing — and their kids — from ever getting anything…because somewhere along the line the American Dream became a zero-sum game. A government gambling away a future they won’t even see for principles based in pomp and circumstance.

All that? Scares the ever-loving crap out of me. Thugs in my city can put the homocide rate at a record high, but they’ll never hurt as many people as what passes for leadership in Washington right now.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Boobtubage, NIMBY no more, OAK, POTUS | Leave a Comment »

The end of…something

Posted on May 3, 2011 by 8junebugs

For a while on Sunday night I thought I was torn about this.

The more I think about it — and the more I see people celebrating (via Storify, which you should know is kind of awesome) — the less torn I am. Also, the less comfortable.

I get it. I really, really do. I was living, working, and going to school in DC on 9/11. I was the first person in my office that day, but not the last; just two blocks from the White House, we were evacuated and we left as a group. I watched the smoke from the Pentagon and the tanks in my neighborhood. I visited Ground Zero that November.

I was there. I saw it. I smelled it.

But an assassination isn’t justice, no matter how good it feels to know that a mass murderer is dead. It’s vengeance. It’s complicated vengeance, because I can’t fault or judge the people closer to the attack — the widows, the orphans, the communities that lost so much — who might still be cheering even now. Vengeance is satisfying. Vengeance can feel really, really good.

It’s also easier than justice. Justice, by the laws we chose to put in place, asks questions first and shoots later.

Here, again, it’s complicated: What questions were there to ask? Osama bin Laden put almost 10 years of confessions on the public record. In what court, in what country, could his presumed right to a fair and speedy trial be upheld?

He doesn’t have that right, you might say. Those are our rights. But if the rights we demand, the rights for which our soldiers fight and die, the rights we consider inalienable are only for Americans, then we’re doing it wrong. We are playing fast and loose with our so-called self-evident truths. Justice demands evidence and trials and holding ourselves to a higher standard, even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. Even if it means Osama bin Laden isn’t shot on sight.

This was the easier way, certainly. It’s so much easier than if he’d been captured and tried and, presumably, executed. But when has the easier way in good versus evil ever turned out to be the right way? I didn’t want to sit through due process any more than anyone else, I suppose, but when has my discomfort, my anger or grief, been a good reason to set aside a basic principle?

The 9/11 attack briefly brought out the best in us. Osama bin Laden and his bogeyman mythology have brought out the worst ever since. I would hope his assassination, however easy to justify, signals the end of a decade of escalating jingoism and “America, fuck YEAH!” attitudes, but then I saw the celebrations. In the end, bin Laden got what he wanted. We’ve been torn apart, he’s been martyred, and his cause lives on.

I think the solemnity in the Situation Room photo from the White House better fits how I feel about the death of the bogeyman. A human being has been hunted and killed by my government, in my name. I am no more comfortable with him dead than I was with him alive.

President Barack Obama and Vice President Joe Biden, along with members of the national security team, receive an update on the mission against Osama bin Laden in the Situation Room of the White House, May 1, 2011. (Official White House Photo by Pete Souza)

Filed under: Fourth Estate, NIMBY no more, Pop goes the culture, The day they taught law at law school | Leave a Comment »

On anger, fear, and elections

Posted on November 1, 2010 by 8junebugs

It’s not anger, in particular, that I find so offensive. It’s trumped-up anger about, say, things that aren’t true, or things that offend someone’s sensibilities but are not, objectively, any of that person’s damned business (like what I do with my body, and/or with whom).

Or violence. I find that pretty damned offensive.

For an informed voter, I act like a freaking ostrich shoving its head in the sand in the run up to an election. I’m perfectly capable of ferreting out the truth about candidates’ positions online without listening to the crap ads that, if we’re lucky, on either side of the debate, contain 5% truth.

I cannot handle it. I do communications for a living and I respect my audience(s). It incenses me to watch ads specifically scripted to appeal to the basest fears of people who already have enough troubles. It infuriates me to see inaccurate or out-of-context information shoveled at a citizenry that the ad creator (or the person paying for the ad) thinks is too dumb to check the facts.

And the dog whistles. The bloody dog whistles so saturated with privileged hatred for anyone who is (or might be) other…it stings. I wish there were a better name for the concept so it wouldn’t be in any way related to puppies.

This election cycle, even more than 2008, is highlighting the flaws in our humanity, the worst being that we are inclined to develop our own Truth and stick to it, regardless of facts proving that Truth is incorrect (I know this was recently supported by another study, but I can’t find the newer link).

Fact:

  1. something that actually exists; reality; truth
  2. something known to exist or to have happened

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but facts are not subjective.

Politicians and activists in this election cycle are doing their best to convince people of the opposite…and a lot of people want to believe it. It’s empowering to think that you can make something real by believing it hard enough, isn’t it? When you’re trying to engage a bunch of people who are, in the grand scheme of things, generally powerless, it’s an incredible tool of persuasion. If someone’s lost a lot — a job, a house, retirement funds – it’s really, really easy to access their understandable fear of losing even more. Tell them the other candidate will try to take more away, and you’ve got them. The fear of that loss opens them up to whatever suggestion you make, even if you lie to their faces.

You can convince perfectly intelligent people that your support of big business is good for them. You can get them to think that businesses trying to profit will always pay a fair wage, even without a law requiring it (my employer probably would, but I’m well aware of how unusual that is). You can even get them to scapegoat populations who possess even less than they.

Fear is that powerful.

Fear appeals, typically, are most effective when the target feels some sense of efficacy. “Ooga booga!” doesn’t work by itself–you need “Ooga booga + Do X to allay fear and feel safe!”

X = “vote for this guy right here, the one who looks like you and prays like you and knows what you want to hear, and all will be well”

(Y = Why not?)

That democrats are struggling to counter this is no surprise. When facts and reason can’t counter resistance, we don’t know what to do. We hold to the belief that people are, by nature, reasonable. We expect that we can present facts to voters and have that be enough. Although we point fingers as much as the other side, we really do try to point them at the (predominantly white, Christian, male) legislators who voted or signed orders the produced certain results. We think that should be enough.

We suck at real scapegoating.

I’m not afraid of immigrants or LGBTQI neighbors/teachers/teenagers or even of ZOMGsocialism. I am very, very afraid of a country so far gone that fear trumps facts…and would-be leaders who capitalize on that.

So I’ll vote tomorrow, and I’ll be disappointed…much like 1994 (although we were better equipped to rebound then…economically, regardless of party politics). And I’ll hope for better in 2012. I’ll hope that the people all fired up to “Take back the nation!!!!11!!!” or whatever snap the hell out of it and consider taking it forward instead.

I’ll hope for the best…and expect significantly less.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, NIMBY no more, Pop goes the culture, POTUS, Ulcer Training | Leave a Comment »

Not in Haiti

Posted on January 18, 2010 by 8junebugs

There are two posts in the wings, but they can wait.

A week ago, I had my first yoga class in years at a center where I’ve taken classes before. It’s within walking distance, but it was still quite cold out, and I chose to drive so I could run some errands before class. I remember thinking during the relaxation period of that first class about a quote from Babylon 5 (which was certainly not the origin of the idea) – something about how we measure history by the wars and not by the peace. I thought about how we often have a similar attitude about our bodies. We pay attention when they hurt and ignore them when they feel fine. So I started being happy and grateful that I could be there, feeling the different parts of my body by choice rather than by necessity.

And a freaking sunbeam came through the window and hit me upside the head. I’m not even kidding.

This weekend, during the same part of class, I was just grateful to be here, to be solid. I’ve heard people in the Healthy At Every Size movement say that their weight gives them a tangible way of taking up space, of being physically in the world. Saturday morning, that’s what I felt — solid in this world with a floor under me, a roof over me, and a place to go home to…to say nothing of the luxury of spending 90 minutes just stretching and breathing. You know, for fun.

Right now, it’s hard not to view most of my life — and lifestyle — as luxurious.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, NIMBY no more | Leave a Comment »

Still half the battle

Posted on November 15, 2009 by 8junebugs

Until this morning, I hadn’t kicked anyone in the balls since second grade (with wooden clogs, then…sorry, Ryan R.!*).

I also, through several layers of padding, managed to pound an aggressor’s radial nerve hard enough to numb his arm for a minute.

And then I ran the hell away.

Today was the final day of my RAD class, the optional simulation portion that gave us the chance to fight off aggressors — a drama in three acts, actually. We stepped alone into three increasingly scary situations, the last of which felt even more alone because the only people in the room were the instructors, the aggressors, and anyone who’d already taken her turn.

I learned to throw punches and kicks. I learned how to get out of chokeholds. I learned that, if I wake up on my stomach and there’s a 200+ man on top of me, I can throw him off of me…even if he knows that’s what I’m going to do.

More than anything else, I learned that I can fight back. In the heat of the simulation, at first, I forgot every technique that I’d been taught, but I fought anyway. That was the key — not being afraid to hurt someone who’s trying to hurt me. If I need to punch someone in the neck, I know I can.

I talked to G about this last night, and about the stereotype of the college girl who’s been assaulted and doesn’t report it because she doesn’t want to “get him in trouble,” the girl who tries to laugh off inappropriate touching from a guy because she doesn’t want to make him mad or make a scene. He said he can’t imagine why anyone would think it’s okay, ever, for someone to touch you, anywhere, when you don’t want them to touch you. But while he was being taught to respect a woman’s boundaries, no matter what, girls his age were still being taught to “let him down easy.”

(I still think it’s odd how many women have been taught how to tread lightly on men’s feelings, but are viewed culturally as the more emotionally delicate sex. What a load of crap, am I right? Not unlike how men are supposed to be the stronger, tougher sex, but women are the ones who push something the size of a watermelon out something the size of walnut. I’ve seen one man panic more over a paper cut than I did when some stitches opened up…let’s just call pain tolerance a draw, shall we?)

They may also have been taught, implicitly or right out in the open, that “men can’t control themselves,” that “she shouldn’t have been walking alone/dressed like that/leading him on,” that “boys will be boys.” In a thousand ways, their right to their own bodies and space has been eroded by a culture that still makes the distinction between rape and “date rape.”

Ever heard of “date murder” or “date robbery”? Yeah, neither have I. Think about what that says about our society. (For what it’s worth, there is no legal difference between “rape-rape” and “date rape.”)

My instructors were incredible. In addition to giving up time and getting beat up, they were endlessly supportive and accessible. They do this for a reason and they’d do it full time if they could…which I knew — the kickass old roommate who got me into the class used to teach it. The goal of the course is simple — to make self-defense a viable option for women in the event of an attack. They empower women, yes…but they empower them physically, which, for some of us, is a totally new experience.

They empower men and kids, as well, and they told us some great success stories.

Many thanks, as well, to the officers who suited up today and took the hits. Those two guys, both bigger than I, got taken down again and again, and they did it voluntarily. Thanks to them, I know what it feels like to get grabbed and pulled to the ground, and I know I can still get away.

And knowing that is pretty powerful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* Ryan R. went on to have several children and carry on his family’s business. Let the record show that I did no permanent damage.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, NIMBY no more | 2 Comments »

Sore and inspired

Posted on November 9, 2009 by 8junebugs

When I told the internet, via facebook, that I was going to do the Rape Aggression Defense course through AU, an old friend from high school noted that the most significant lesson she learned in self-defense classes was The Voice.

The Voice, from the self-defense perspective, is Not Screaming.

It’s yelling. Knowing how to yell, what to yell, when to yell…and why it works. (Why it works is too related to another post in my head to go into here.)

This weekend, I started learning how to defend myself against a standing attack from the front or from behind. Next weekend, I’ll learn how to defend myself from a horizontal position (slightly more important for the under-30 crowd with unlocked dorm doors, but still useful) and, unless I chicken out, I’ll defend myself in a simulation against officers in padded suits.

And masks, I hope.

I wouldn’t blame anyone for chickening out. The simulation is optional and will be realistic, but for the pads. We have not been asked to share whether we have been assaulted, although the statistics make it likely enough in a class of 10 or so. Trying to fight off an attack now could trigger someone pretty easily…she might not be able to fight off even a pretend attacker, not yet.

But she’ll know what to do if it happens again.

“Chickening out” applies only to me, from my perspective. If I don’t make myself practice it as much as I can, how can I know I’ll make myself do it if I really need to? Even when I danced I didn’t practice much at home (if at all) but I made use of every minute of class. So it is with this, then — it’s just how I work. If I can do it when it doesn’t matter, I’ll feel better about being able to when it does.

For right now, though, my body’s a little twingey in the joints. I’m feeling every one of the years between me and the round-cheeked freshman who’s louder than one would expect, and between me and the recent alum who works in Rosslyn, the one who roars “NO!” with every strike.

We’re all louder than one would expect.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, NIMBY no more | Leave a Comment »

The ‘hood

Posted on October 27, 2009 by 8junebugs

Last night, I abruptly ended a phone call with G at about 9:30 because I heard a woman screaming in the parking lot.

A woman. Screaming. 9:30. PM.

I went out on the balcony, hoping it was just kids playing around, but it wasn’t. It was a young woman — younger than me, certainly, but old enough to be dressed for office work – screaming for someone to help her. She was coming toward the entrance from the side of the lot that borders my own building.

She was staggering.

I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe to a sober person’s movement.

Eventually, her legs buckled and she sat on the curb.

She said she’d been attacked, that a man had taken her bag, grabbed her arm and thrown her to the ground. Then he ran off. I don’t know if he ran off because he onlywanted the bag, or if he ran off because she started screaming.

I wasn’t the first to call 911 — the dispatcher said a car was on its way. By the time I got off the phone, the officer was pulling in and there were four or five people gathered around the woman. I didn’t go downstairs…I wasn’t sure how I could help without being in the way, not having seen the incident at all.

I could have brought a blanket down, though. I thought of that later. She only had a skirt and blouse on.

This is the seventh and most serious recent incident that I know about; since June, we have been getting somewhat frequent notices about increased vehicle break-ins and theft, and there have been reports of people (presumed homeless) sleeping in the stairwells.

Management, when asked pointedly, said they are “looking into” installing more site lighting, installing cameras, and hiring a temporary [Mall Cop].”

They had other terms for the Mall Cop, but it comes down to uniformed, unarmed person patrolling the area and Looking Official. I mean I’m not expecting Walker, Texas Ranger to stand guard – uniformed and unarmed is reasonable for building security.

It’s the “looking into” and “temporary” that bother me. I live by myself, I go to work early, and I come home late at least twice a week, and we’ve already discussed how I’m a statistically likely target. And hey, we turn the clocks back this weekend, which means it’ll be dark when I get home no matter what. Given an average of two “incidents” a month and the fact that the latest involved violence, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a better-lit parking lot and 24-hour security cameras.

Because, let’s face it, a guy in a uniform is no more of a deterrent than a camera, and a system of cameras can be everywhere at once and record everything in range. Not even Chuck Norris can do that.

What do you think? What is building management’s responsibility here?

(The moral of the story, by the way? Be ready and willing to scream bloody murder. And learn to punch people in the neck.)

Filed under: A life less ordinary, NIMBY no more, No place like home | 2 Comments »

Am I my brother’s keeper?

Posted on August 19, 2009 by 8junebugs

Dr. Hibbert from The Simpsons, courtesy VirginmediaFlip-Flop Amy got me started on it, so this 1,000-plus-word rant is brought to you by the letters S, T, and J.

I’m pleased to see that Remote Area Medical (RAM) is getting a fair bit of press this week for its work in Inglewood. You know where organizations like RAM are supposed to operate, though? Guatemala. Haiti. East Africa. Places with a lot less money and resources than the United States. Yet 60% of its programs are directed domestic need, because our neighbors can’t afford regular dental care, to say nothing of root canals.*

Is this what you want and expect from the United States? People who, no matter how hard they work at how many jobs, can’t afford to get their teeth cleaned or get glasses for their kids? What do you think extra root canals and kids who can’t see the board do to our economy in the long run?

Wake up, neighbors. It’s Morning After in America.

The only reason my mom was able to go from diagnosis to radiation to surgery to chemo and back again is because she was a Vermonter, and Vermonters decided years ago that medical care is a basic human right regardless of income, health, or lifestyle. As a Vermonter, she received the best care possible given the diagnosis, and her costs were minimal. Thanks to universal health care at the state level, she could go to the doctor without worrying about whether she would have to choose between medicine and a mortgage payment.

Shouldn’t everyone be able to do that? If you think otherwise, please tell me why, because I honestly can’t imagine being willing to say, “No, you can’t go to the doctor. You are not rich enough to afford the right to get well.”

It started with former Governor Howard Dean, now best known for roaring on national television and scaring grown adults away from progressive change (can you imagine where we’d be today if we were open to change in 2004 instead of the same old lesser-of-two-evils options? Le sigh…). To Vermonters, though, he’s best known for Dr. Dynasaur, the program that began ensuring health care coverage for children and pregnant women. It was a start, a strong start, and it led to the plethora of programs available in Vermont today in just about every circumstance: Unemployed, underemployed, or out of college and too old for Mom and Dad’s insurance? Whatever your situation, Vermont believes you have the right to medical attention. They believe you have a right to life, even if you have already exited the womb and left behind the protection of the traditional right-to-life crowd.

(more…)

Filed under: If it's not one thing, it's your mother, NIMBY no more, Pop goes the culture, POTUS | 3 Comments »

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