Health Care “Reformers,” Don’t Make Me Swear.
December 19, 2009 by Julia King · 3 Comments
A friend just emailed me about health care, wondering if I think the Senate ought to (as he put it) “shitcan” the current bill. Hmmm. I’ve never used the word before (this rather sailorish “shitcan”), but I think I might like it. Shitcan. I type the word a third time and still it looks good.
He owned up to being only on the “edge of understanding” and claimed some malleability on the issue, which coincidentally puts us in the exact same camp.
I wonder: Is there anyone in the center of understanding? Someone who really gets it? Gets the fact that every other “advanced” nation on earth is able to give its entire population medical care but we cannot? And is there anyone who can explain how it is the Catholic Church appears to be on the brink of blocking women from accessing a perfectly legal, constitutionally protected medical procedure? And the legislators who are helping them do it are called “moderate.”
I haven’t written much about this for two reasons. One is that, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I have a full time job. Yes, real writers with full time jobs that are not writing jobs, wake in the wee hours of the morning just to string together words. So I guess that makes me the Velveteen Rabbit of writers, all full of stuffing and not actually real.
My job is a challenging, fulfilling job, by the way, and one that exposes me regularly to people who need, among other things, health care. This leads to the second reason I haven’t written: It’s just so incredibly sad. It is tragic that Americans can find the money, the will and the way to launch war on any given day, but get all tripped up and bogged down in ideology when it comes time to provide basic care to its citizens… or those who want to be its citizens.
It should have been Single Payer from the beginning. We all get there together. If we don’t, it doesn’t mean a thing. Okay. I confess I’ve given a different speech to friends who are even more disillusioned than I am. I’ve talked about Susan B. Anthony and how she devoted her whole adult life (not just a campaign season or two) to getting women the vote – and in the end she never saw it. It happened, of course, but not on her watch. And in the process, Frederick Douglas sold her out; and later suffragists like Kate Gordon and Laura Clay sold African American women out. They all got there eventually, but not together. Was Douglas a brilliant negotiator to leave white women behind? And were Gordon and Clay equally brilliant to leave black women behind?
No. They were all just humans desperate for a taste of dignity. It’s human frailty, not cunning and intellect, that allows us to cut others from our cause just so we can get there faster. But it’s what we do.
Heavy sigh. We’re screwy.
Yeah. Shitcan.
Dazzled and Distracted – Guest Blog
December 19, 2009 by joanking · 1 Comment
When my invitation to the Dec. 1, White House holiday party came on Nov. 19, I was thrilled! After opening the envelope addressed to Ms. Joan King, with the engraved return address: The White House, Washington D.C., there it was–a beautiful red invitation with gold lettering and the White House seal at the top. It read: “Mrs. Michelle Obama requests the pleasure of your company at a Holiday Open House to be held at The White House on Tuesday, December 1, 2009 at six o’clock.” My hope was that Barack, himself, would drop by. And then, the news reports began stating that President Obama would be announcing his decision on Afghanistan troop deployment (and, yes, there would be around 30,000 more troops going!). And, it looked like the only night available for his speech was DEC. 1! My first thoughts (after realizing Barack would not be dropping by the party) were: should I boycott this holiday party? Should I wear an anti-war pin, at least? In truth, I did neither. After all, it was an invitation to THE WHITE HOUSE by Michelle, for campaign volunteers and volunteers in the White House Correspondence office, where I answer phones two days a week.
So, there I stood, in line with a couple of hundred people on Dec. l, as President Obama left the White House in his helicopter about 5:45 p.m. to fly to West Point to give his long awaited speech. I felt helpless and somewhat chagrined, which lasted only until I entered the White House (after, of course, three checkpoints, and the metal detector) a little after 6 p.m. A string trio played as each person was “welcome (ed) to the White House.” Wreaths of red painted magnolia leaves adorned the East Colonnade, which we walked down. Each room was absolutely beautiful, with holiday decorations, sparkling decorated trees and lit fire places in every room. The gigantic 18 ½ feet tree in the Blue room was adorned with 800 ornaments from previous administrations. Red taffeta ribbons and cranberries festooned the two trees in the Red room. An unbelievably beautiful white orchid plant was prominently displayed in the women’s rest room.
I began my evening with maybe the most delicious eggnog I have ever had; it was laced with rum, and ladled out of a crystal punchbowl. But that was just the beginning. In the East room, tables were laden with vegetables, fruit, oysters, shrimp, smoked salmon, roast beef, cheeses, and fruit. Wine and other drinks were plentiful. After this smorgasbord of delight, I went to the State Dining Room where we sampled the most scrumptious desserts, and admired the miniature gingerbread White House covered with white chocolate panels..
But it wasn’t only the stunning decorations, the beautiful music, the bountiful and delicious food. It was the feeling of warmth and good will that emanated from every area, and the graciousness and hospitality expressed by Michelle when she thanked all of us for volunteering. As she shook hands and gave hugs to those volunteers she knew from the campaign, I thrust my hand out and she took it in both of her hands. I was happy; I had made brief physical contact with Michelle Obama, an amazing first lady who exemplifies beauty and grace, elegance and naturalness. As I walked out of the White House at 8 p.m., the bushes glimmered with white lights, a full moon hung over Pennsylvania Ave., and I realized for a little while I had not thought about war, and Afghanistan. If only everyone could have those two magical hours in the White House.
Joan
