We have a black president, a latina in the Supreme Court, women in important roles of Secretary of State and Speaker of the House of Representatives. Each event is ceremonial and historical.
For the second time in a generation, the health care reform debate rages on.
I've had somekind of healthcare since before I can remember. Even if there was a time that I did not as a young child, I did not know it consciously. I do remember visits to the doctor, mother having surgery, and my brother's complications at birth. All these events required healthcare. Maybe my parents had good jobs, government medical services, or military benefits allowed me not to worry about these things growing up. Another privilege it seems. So, who is this universal healthcare debate really about? Who is needing it and what do they look like?
Since the debate made its big return to the scene, questions about racism and prejudice are being offered on both ends of the spectrum from liberal progressives to conservative traditionalist. I'd presume the average American is caught between the cross hairs trying to make sense of all of it. Maybe many would rather put their heads into the ground and avoid the conflict as many rather do in general. For those of us courageous and duty-bound enough to try and gather our wits to understand the challenge, I offer one simple consideration: What is the real face of poverty in America?
I am not going to pretend to know this dynamic issue thoroughly. I did experience poverty for a time and, like many Americans, sometimes feel a few paychecks from the poor house. But, these are past experiences, fears, and lamentations when, in fact, I am lower middle class, highly educated, and a beneficator of the American dream my ancestors fought and died for me to receive. I am not under any illusion that all the treasures of life cannot be taken or lost at any point. I also enjoy the reasonable expectation and rumination to believe that when I rise each morning that I can eat, sleep in comfort, be resigned to the fact that my neighborhood is relatively safe, and create a bubble of security, even if irrationally constructed, keeps me inside safe and free from worry. That is a privilege that I received.
Of course we have our neighborhood homeless, working poor, unemployed, single-parents, people of color, and mentally disabled. Of these groups, I cannot tell you whether one group is better covered by our current healthcare system than the next. I cannot tell you what group gets a better shake because of existing federal or state government or charity program. I am neither an expert on the matter nor really care to be actually. I do want to be informed enough so I can let my representative know what I think is important for the future of the country.
This I believe - I believe in an America who promised me freedom and justice regardless. I believe in a parent being able to care for their children and having the means throughout life to be the difference and make a difference. I believe in a world compassionate enough to support and encourage those less able and maybe even unwilling at times to live up to their God given talent. I believe that people have been bestowed with a treasure inside that no person, circumstance, or injustice can steal away because it was placed there by a God who treasures and loves you unconditionally. I believe that treasure is inescapable and cannot be signed away or stolen from others to increase one's portion. The treasure is with each of us not because we deserve it but because despite our greatest efforts to disprove others including God, we are worthy of it - inherently worthy as one of God's creation, a child of God. That treasure is love.
From this position, the face of poverty I know before I pick up a book, research on the Internet, or look for the advise of my wisest confidant that it is you, me, the man behind the counter at my local grocery store, or the lady walking down the ally trying to take a shortcut home. It could be anyone really. I do not know all of these individuals, but I know they are part of my family and yours, friends, the fortunate and unruly, peaceful and reachedly unjust, stranger and familiar alike.
If I really knew any of these people who I can assume on some level care and cry as I do worrying about a child or close one's future, lust for a time when their worries might subside enough to give them peace, and, even if only once, wished for something a bit better without being greedy, then I might, just might, be able to understand the obligation and promise of their deepest dream.
So, I do believe in universal healthcare just like I believe roads and highways, street lights, gas pipes, public libraries, city, country, state, and federal services should be paid for as a collective. Not one of us can survive without the other. The myth of dogged, rugged individualism is a pipe dream full of wholes, selling the idea that we don't need anyone but our gifts, aspirations, and bare hands to make us whole.
The face of poverty walks and rides across the great expanse we call America and home. Poverty lives in America and in many ways far more present outside our bountries. So, my hope is that people will see this familiar face of poverty and look past the irrational rhetoric, racist townhall-foolery, and emotional banter, which take the focus off the real issues. Because, the real issue is finding a way to avoid suffering through your own private misery watching a parent, child, or other family member or friend battle an illness or disease that can corrupt their mind, body, and spirit - and our hearts. There can be little else more terrible than the worry a parent or child has believing their illness bankrupted financially and/or emotionally their family due to their cancer or other ailment.
I do not pretend to know the answer. However, once we get past all this overexposed Frontierman gibberish found on our nightly news, hopefully we get back to those faces needing healthcare reform.
No comments:
Post a Comment