It ain't all pizzas and cream

Rest and Motion

 

To be reading a magazine in the cavernous station,
the air adorned with the mingled smells of hot iron,

cinders and cylinder grease. A kid in khakis and white
t-shirt, smokes pillowed in his sleeve, drops a dime

into the phone, talks to his girl. They begin to argue.
I flip the pages, no longer reading, just watching 

the parade of photos march past. Two suits discuss
the box scores, while an old woman in a flowered hat

fingers rosary beads. The old clock, like the face
of a losing gambler, watches us from the wall. A voice

comes over the speaker, announces the next northbound 
train. There is a shuffle of activity. Cigarettes extinguished,

satchels grabbed. I lay the magazine on the bench
and rejoin the world of the dying.

The 53%

In response to the Occupy movement and its battle cry of "We are the 99%," a counter movement calling itself "We are the 53%" has formed,  drawing its name from the 53% of Americans who paid Federal Income Tax last year. The 53% suggest in no uncertain terms that they are "carrying" the 47% who do not earn enough to owe Federal Income Tax. They would have us believe that if the poorest Americans would simply work harder and pay more, the country would not be in the financial straits in which we now find ourselves.

The 53% are eager to cite figures: trudging through 60-hour work weeks, holding down two jobs, working their way through college, raising 3 or more children. After reading several dozen personal testimonials, is no doubt that those who number themselves among the 53% have made great personal sacrifices. Many have had no secondary education. Many have earned degrees as adults. Many have taken second jobs to make ends meet. Nobody would dispute such sacrifices.

What I question is the assertion that these stories of work and sacrifice are incompatible with the Occupy movement. Would not the lives of the 53% be better today had Congress not repealed the Glass-Steagall Act in 1999?  Would not the lives of the 53% be better today had lenders not engaged in predatory practices between 2000 and 2008?  Would not the lives of ALL Americans be better had Federal bailout funds been more carefully managed, and not simply handed out without stipulations regarding their use? I think the answer to all three questions is yes.

Much mention has been made of the Occupy movement's youthful character, and much mockery directed at the drum circles found at many protests. The remarks made by those identifying themselves as the 53% mirror remarks I heard directed at anti-war protestors in the 1960s. "Stop protesting and go get a job," is the overall sentiment. While convenient, this hardly carries any weight. Many protestors are students. Many ARE looking for work. Which is kind of the point. If US companies like General Electric were actually hiring US workers, instead of expanding in areas like Estonia, many more WOULD be working, and thus would be contributing to the Federal Tax pool. But of course there is no way to compel US firms to hire US workers, especially when workers in other countries will work for lower wages and under conditions that would be never meet US safety standards. 

The 53% are very clear that they have played by the rules of the American Dream Playbook. When times were tough, they worked harder, took more hours at more menial jobs, earned degrees at night. And what thanks did they get? None. In fact, many of the 53% are very quick to say, "the world owes me nothing." Yet, their tone tells a different story. Why trumpet the fact that you work 60+ hours a week unless you expect something in return? No, not money. But certainly gratitude, perhaps even glory. And it seems, at least to the 53%, that the only reason for the current economic crisis is that "the 47%" are lazy do-nothings and drug addicts who expect a free ride. Not so. Let me repeat that...

NOT SO.

To blame the unemployed, the underemployed, the working poor, the homeless, and those incapable of sustained employment is not only callous and self-righteous, it is inaccurate. If you believe that the man who lives on a subway grate is getting a free ride, I challenge you to try it for a week. One week with no walls, no doors, no support structure other than the charity of strangers. See how "free" that ride is. Take the waitress or the motel housekeeper who must sustain herself on tips. Try working on your feet for 12 hours a day just to earn $50, and see if you'd still call her lazy. 

As long as struggling Americans with two jobs continue to blame struggling Americans who are unemployed or underemployed, we will make no progress. Perhaps we should look at those who never seem to struggle--not the homeless man on the vent but the investment banker in the penthouse, or the legislator who insists that corporations are good stewards of the economy. Perhaps we should work together. Because like it or not, dreadlocked drummer or overworked machinist, we ARE the 99%.

 

Everyone Has a Name: Disassembling the Distance

People sometimes ask me, "How do you talk to the homeless?"

"With my voice," I say. 

Forgive my mockery, but it is within this very question that we must begin to disassemble the distance between "the homeless" and "the domiciled."  One would never ask, "How do you talk to an auto mechanic?" Yet we ask this of the homeless, as tho they spoke a different tongue, or were unapproachable. In fact, the homeless are among the most approachable people in the world. They have no walls. No doors. They are exposed, naked, and often begging for help. 

Begin with hello. You'd be surprised how many homeless people are simply surprised to be seen, are pleased to be addressed at all. Crowds pass them every day as though they were lamp posts. I usualluy ask if they could use some help, a sandwich, a smoke, a few dollars. Almost universally, the offer is accepted. I ask how long they've been out here, where they stay at night. And I ask their names, offer a handshake, give them mine. Seems so simple, doesn't it. The reaction with which I am most often met is surprise. 

I remember approaching a man in a wheelchair. He had a cup out, a few coins inside. His medical condition made speech difficult, so he'd been sitting in silence, waiting for donations. I offered him a few dollars and he gestured to his pocket, so I tucked the bills inside for him. His right hand was even more crumpled than mine (in my case, due to a birth injury), so he offered a fist bump. I smiled and returned the gesture. He offered a crooked smile in return. The point is that we found a way to connect, and it wasn't difficult to do.

I know that many of those who find themselves on the street are there, at least in part, due to addiction or mental health issues. And sometimes that can seem intimidating. But in my experience, I have not found myself threatened or strongarmed in any way. As a recovering drunk with 15+ years clean I know a little about addiction. Usually I find that those with a dependency are happy to talk about what it's like trying to support a habit or stay out of the drunk tank. Occasionally we talk about sobriety, and most have experienced short periods of it, tho not sustained. Nonetheless, I am far more guarded when speaking with a shoe salesman than I am with a homeless addict. There's a fair chance the salesman will fleece me for $80 and leave me with sore feet, while the addict may take $2 and five minutes of my time.

Just remember: everyone has a name. We all start and end with that, regardless of what material goods we may acquire or lose along the way.  A name. A handshake. Dignity.  It's really quite simple.

 

 

Poems near, poems far

A PEACEFUL PLACE TO WRITE

I hear people speak 
of a peaceful place to write: 

a seaside cottage near
the earth's pulse

or a cabin in the pines
silent as a bat. But 

if they ever find such a place, 
the words do not come 

with them. They remain 
in the city, among the catcalls

and car horns, the drunken
laughter, broken glass

and the weeping, always
the weeping.

 

@   @   @    @

 

DOMESTICATED

Sunday night and I circle my bowl,
inspect my little blue shipwreck

for dead pirates again. I've memorized 
every pebble here, could name them

if I had to. When you return and drop 
a few crumbs of food onto the water

I'll look back at you, as always, and 
as always you'll mistake my glare 

for gratitude.

 

@    @    @   @

 

RAGE

Everything has its rages. Sheets 
smother beds in their sleep,

Sinks drown dishes, and lamps
burn moths by the dozen.

Those red leaves the maple
hurls upon your patio 

Are only a warning.

 

 

Between the River and Stars

for Cecily, on our 15th Anniversary.

 

I’ll name a constellation for you

and put my love in it. 

Among the stars it will not sour like milk.

 

I’ll name a river for you

and put my love in it.

Among the currents it will not harden like bread.

 

I’ll name a fire for you

and put my love in it.

Among the embers it will not chill like the dead.

 

I’ll name a mountain for you

and climb to the summit.

There I will light a fire between the river and stars.

 

OCCUPY: What Should Be the Message?

When discussing the Occupy movement, there's one thing upon which we can all agree: it's unfocused. Not that there aren't a lot of admirable causes represented, but to be effective, I think that the movement must establish a clear set of goals. And they've even asked for help. I found this booth...

...at Occupy Philly. Organizers provided questionnaires asking what the salient points of the movement's message should be--on a local, state, national, and global level.

Here are my responses:

• Restore the Glass-Steagall Act of 1932. It's repeal (sadly under Bill Clinton's watch) was spearheaded by Sen. Phil Gramm (R-TX) and was probably one of the largest mistakes in US economic history. Without the act, a nmortgage lender and mortgage insurer can be owned by the same entity, allowing insurers to rate almost any loan, no matter how shady, as AAA.

• Grant Mortgage Amnesty. Stop the rampant fopreclosures, especially in cases where the lender was already compensated for the loss. Arrangements can be made to allow families to keep their homes, e.g., reassessing the property at a lower (fair) value and replacing variable rate mortgages with a low fixed rate.

• End Corporate Personhood. The whole idea that "corporations are people too" is an absurdity concocted by the railroad industru in the 1880s to augment its already substantial government influence. Supreme Courts for decades saw this power play for what it was and rejected it. Until now. This near hysterical movement to grant corporate entities stewardfship over government needs a slap in the face and a cold shower.

Well, I've showed you mine, now show me yours.

 

OCCUPY

WALL 

STREET

 

Liberal Guilt: Purchasing Power and the Price of Conscience

Remember the lettuce boycott? Or was it grapes? Or both? I think it was both. In the 60s or 70s. Cesar Chavez. Anyway, there was a boycott because the people who picked the lettuce and grapes were treated unfairly. OK, I can see that. Field workers should be paid a fair hourly wage. Iceberg lettuce is nutritionally empty and doesn't taste like anything anyway. And grapes I can take or leave.  I don't particularly need to find an alternative for either.

These days it's gotten harder to step so carefully around the boycotts, or simply to stick with "green" or sustainable foods, clothing, shoes, tires, etc. 

There was some recent hubbub about the chocolate industry in Africa using, if not actual slave labor, then certainly wage slaves or child labor. (If so, I am NOT saying this is a good idea.)  This was immediately followed by calls to boycott chocolate companies that didn't use "fair trade" practices with their growers. OK. Fine. Except that pretty much means that my very blue collar candy choices are out. Say I go along, fine.

Then there's clothes. The clothes I can afford are almost always manufactured in Bangladesh or India, sometimes Guatemala or China. I'm fairly certain wage slavery, child labor AND slave labor are involved in at least one of those production lines. But a men's shirt made in the USA costs no less than $35. Multiply by at least 7 and I don't have that kind of money. So, I am now complicit in slavery. Awesome.  

Now how about the rubber in my car tires? How was that harvested? And in what warlord-run province of what bankrupt and corrupt nation were those workers underpaid? Because I don't know how my car is going to manage without tires. And I've not heard of "fair trade rubber." 

In America, nearly EVERYTHING we buy is predicated on someone, somewhere working for sub-minimum wages under unsafe and humiliating conditions. Even our own workers, undocumented, paid off the books, are making the goods we buy under such conditions.

I do understand that the best way to keep corporations honest is to kick them in the money sacks.  And I do see that a boycott can be effective in that way. I'm just not sure I can boycott everything made by every company with slightly shady business practices. Because that's nearly all of them.  Of course, there are alternatives, like CSAs (Community Supported Agriculture). Tried that. Bought local bacon, local milk, local veggies. And supplemented with fair-trade goods from Whole Foods. After a month of spotless-conscience living, we were quite broke. Back to Giant and then to Bottom Dollar.

The of course there's the grow-your-own approach. I have several close friends for whom this lifestyle choice fits like a hand in a gardening glove. Some make their own honey, others farm their own veggies.  But anyone who knows me knows that a cactus would die in my care. I can only speculate on the fate of any herbs, let alone corn or tomatoes.  Cheetos, to me, are a vegetable. But I haven't figured out how to grow those yet. 

Bottom line: a spotless Liberal conscience is expensive. And for me, prohibitively so. So forgive me my slave-made Bangldeshi shoes, if you will. As you did my fume-belching 1972 Ford Maverick, built to run on leaded gas.

Or don't. 

 

 

Pez

The drug store line had stopped moving. A woman was returning Pez. Two packages of Pez candy, with dispenser. One was Popeye. I couldn't see the other. Three weeks till Halloween and she's returning candy. And after much paperwork, the store refunded her money. 
Unable to contain myself, I said it:
"You're not gonna let her return candy."
Silent stares shone from the clerks and customers. 
"You're not going to put that back on the sales floor, are you?" I said.
"Why not?" said the clerk who handled the return.
"That bitch could be a psycho who gets off injecting candy with anthrax." 
The clerk looked at me, then picked up the phone.
"Manager to register one," she said. 
Soon the manager arrived. She was tall, thin, all business. 
"Look," I said, "it's real simple, people are sick, demented, cruel. You can't accept returned food. I don't know that woman from Post Toasties and neither do you."
The manager looked at the packaging. "You think so?" she asked. "It doesn't look opened."
"You'd be surprised," I said. "What kind of person returns Pez anyway?"
We all stood there, thinking about it. 
"Well I'll put it in the damaged goods bin," said the manager finally.
"If she comes in here again," I said, "call Homeland Security."
And we left it at that.

Occupy Philly

My dad was a broker, banker, and investment strategist who spent much of his career on Wall Street. Each night I watched him return from work, worn down, chipped away, defeated. Each night I heard the stories of uninventive and greedy men who stole his ideas. Men who jerked clients in and out of stocks just to make a quick commission. Men who profited from inside information. Opportunists, liars, thieves. Since his death in 1979, I wager things have worsened.

Since the OCCUPY movement has entered its third week and finally earned some attention from the mainstream media, the criticism has arrived by the truckload. The most popular is an unfounded idea that OCCUPY supporters are saying "Down with Products." Not so. Nobody is suggesting that we take to the woods, hunt our own game, weave our clothes from homegrown cotton, or abandon technology. What I HAVE heard is a general dissatisfaction with the erosion of protections--protections that have served us well for decades--and that Wall Street should accept some (if not all) responsibility for the subprime scandal and the economic collapse of 2008.

OCCUPY, sadly, isn't perfect. Its message is unfocused. Its voices draw from every marginalized group imaginable, from Hare Krishnas to Anarchists, to devoteees of Louis Farakhan. But it's the first time anyone has suggested on a populist scale that Wall Street take any responsibility for anything. And that, I believe, is long overdue. 

Here are the issues that I, personally, would like to see addressed. 
• Restore Glass-Steagall 
• Grant Mortgage Amnesty 
• Scrap Corporate Personhood.

Today I photographed the rally, along with a portion of the march to Independence Square from City Hall. I was gratified to see people of all races, faiths, and ages participating. Will any of it change anything? I'm not sure. Since the Supreme Court endorsed Corporate Personhood--a con devised by the Railroads in the 1880s and rejected by every Supreme Court until this one--it seems harder than ever to reverse this trend toward corporate stewardship of society. But at least someone is willing to try.

 

Too Thrifty to Fail: The Fallacy of American Frugality

Thrift has long been considered an American virtue. Something about the Puritans bringing only one big-buckle hat per man to the New World. Quotations extolling the virtues and benefits of thrift are easy to find.

    "Beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship."   ~Benjamin Franklin

Frugality, many have noted, is not only a benefit to the purse, but to the character as well. 

    "Industry, thrift and self-control are not sought because they create wealth, but because they create character."   ~Calvin Coolidge

In the most recent economic downturn, and with the ease of discourse provided by the Internet, frugality has found a robust resurgence. Websites devoted to shopping deals, online specials, coupon savings, and thrifty lifestyles abound. And tho I may be a debauch and a libertine by their standards, I have no quarrel with those (especially those with large families) who find inventive ways to stretch a dollar. 

Except...

Recently there's been a trend toward blaming the poor for poverty, and toward blaming the foreclosee for his or her foreclosure. The view that "THOSE PEOPLE should have read what they were signing" has been expressed by many in response to the mortgage and foreclosure crisis. Unfortunately "those people" are our neighbors and friends. And while much has been said about signing mortgages carelessly, very little has been said about the aggressive pitch techniques used by banks to seduce new home-buyers into balloon payments, etc. At last, with the Occupy Wall Street movement, comes some belated outrage over the way banks conducted themselves after the repeal of safeguards like the Glass-Steagall Act of 1932 (look it up).

Yet among many the cry persists: "That could NEVER happen to ME. I keep track of my money."  The view is especially popular among my Libertarian friends, who--while favoring a boom and bust cycle over Federal bailouts and other interventions--also believe that in the event of a global economic meltdown, THEY somehow will be spared from ruin. You may ask, "But how?" And the answer I have received almost without fail: thrift. 

When faced with the proposition that immunity from a global financial collapse may require more than a few thousand dollars squirreled away in a mattress or a talent for coupon-clipping, most laugh it off. It is the same laugh one hears from drivers who believe their Escalade can drive thru shoulder-deep flood waters. The next sound is usually a call to 911. The fact is: a true 1929-style collapse would place 20% to 25% of American workers out of a job for extended periods. Foreclosures and evictions would be rampant. Modern-day "Hoovervilles" would pop up. The poverty and suffering would be on a scale unimagined in the developed, industrialized world. 

This idea that we should abandon those suffering the weight of the recession because they were morally flawed  when they signed their mortgages must be rejected. As must be the idea that a hefty book of coupons is sufficient liferaft for a true economic maelstrom. When we become divided by blame and self-centeredness, we begin to weaken the bonds of our communities. When we quarrel and quibble among ourselves, we fail to see who profits from our misery. When we give in to fear and hoarding, we make poor choices, both personal and political. And perhaps most importantly, when we each worry only about saving ourselves we cease to be the kind of people to which we aspire as a nation.

Thrift is indeed a virtue. But it is NOT a panacea. Nor should it be a weapon used to smugly defend oneself while abandoning one's brother. Aesop's "Ant & the Grasshopper" may be an effective cautionary tale, but it is not a guide to compassionate living.