E L E G Y

My father passed away, ten days before my birthday, last summer. He had been fine only a month earlier, but something happened that took him down. I last spoke with him a the week before, but his voice, and his ability to talk, were not the usual; he strained to say words, and couldn’t express more than simple thoughts. I knew something was dreadfully wrong, and left soon after for my folks’ home. We took him to the hospital, finally, but the doctors said it was too late. The disease had progressed too far, and we could only take him home and wait for the end.
Donald LeRoy Wood was born in a small town in Oklahoma, one that no longer can be found. The circumstances of his birth were unique; he was born at home, alone with his mother, while his dad was gone to bring the midwife. Later the family made an exodus from the dustbowl region exactly like the scene of the Joads leaving, in The Grapes of Wrath, in a near-new Studebaker pick-up. He worked in the mines, as a young man, and gypsied around the west, only 17. Later he became a heavy equipment operator, able to grade the ground under his blade to a tenth of an inch, in the dark. He started and quit several dozen jobs, only to move on to another. He lived the life Hank Williams sang of, until he gave up working on construction jobs. A friend of his died from complications of sitting atop an earthmover for too many years, and Dad gave it up. He quit smoking, around the same time.

I came of age in a time when it was common for children to be rebellious; it was a time of “generation gaps,” when thousands “tuned in, turned on and dropped out.” In addition, VietNam was driving a wedge between the old guard and the new, between parents, who later regretted having to send off their sons only to get them home in a box, and their children, who had to go. In time, the two groups would find common ground, but the drug scene had taken over in the meantime, and kept that divide an uncross able barrier for many. I didn’t need either of these to keep me from being able to communicate with my father, unfortunately. He was unable to express his emotions, good or bad, other than anger, like many men of the time, but he also was unable to accept my having an opinion of my own, until many, many years later, and even then, only on “safe” topics.

It’s taken me all these months to be able to assess my feelings for, and say goodbye, to him. Those feelings are bound up in much unresolved business, topics that will never be settled, emotions left unspoken, and character flaws that will take time to work out of my system. He certainly always affected everyone around him, if not always in a good way. He was a red-headed Irishman, boisterous and blustery, especially in his youth. However, somewhere along the line, life changed him; he became quieter, often morose, and frequently angry at real and imagined slights. All my life, people looked up to him, yet I never experienced the side of him that drew this respect from others. Instead, I got the side that told me what a disappointment I was, how my ideas and opinions were of no interest or merit. I imagine many sons feel as if their fathers do not treat them right, but mine made a habit of that, until I had children of my own, and he began to warm up afterward.

He had been in the Navy, during World War 2, and I had asked him several times about his experiences, but all he would ever tell were the anecdotes about liberties, stolen trolley cars and juke boxes. Never anything personal, or about his actual experiences in combat. My mother told me of him having been tapped for a top secret mission, put on an island in the Philippines, with a radio, a radar set and a knife, but no rifle, to track Japanese shipping in the period just before the invasion to retake the islands. The story begs for telling, along, on an island with Japanese patrols, and no rifle, transmitting in code, while trying to stay out of sight and keep safe. The story has gone to his grave, with him.

The memories I do have are not pretty, sadly, and too often repeat themselves, only the time or place changing. I miss him, but I have not yet mourned him. I wish things had been different, but There is no point in wishing, and nothing comes of it, anyway. He lived his life the way he wanted, even if he didn’t get what he wanted out of it. He alone is responsible for the direction and results. I was just a bit player, in his drama, one who walked off the stage several times, and never looked back. He spent just two months short of 85 years on this Earth; I hope he was satisfied with the way things played out, but I will always wonder.

The Story So Far, 1981 to 2009

The Sorry State of Healthcare in the Twenty-First Century

In an attempt to gather information and understand what the "public option" really is, I did a search, hoping to find an explanation that cleared up the confusion I felt about the health care debate. I can‘t say I found a good explanation, but I have given it a lot of thought. Something has to be done about the cost of medical care. Costs are spiraling and people are being eliminated from the system. The problem, it seems to me, is that people are drawn into one of two sides: FOR the existing system (something I find very hard to comprehend) and FOR reform, albeit what kind or type of reform is very nebulous, and subject to the whims of political gamesmanship and the usual governmental nonsense that seems to cripple even the best-intentioned crusades. Both sides are similarly against different elements; it's as if they are different sides of coins of indeterminate values. The debate keeps us from ever arriving at a solution for the problem, wasting our time in needless emotional displays and name calling.

On one side are the HMO’s, universally seen as money-grubbing and painfully necessary. The other side, leaving out the professional partisans, is primarily made up of the members of Congress, many of whom were elected on promises of “doing something” about the crisis, and those who have similarly been sent with instructions to never let anything escape those halls that even remotely resembles a workable solution. Personally, I’ve always wondered what happens to people when they ascend the Mt Olympus of modern Washington, when the enormity of their (self-ascribed) power overcomes their common sense and native intelligence, resulting in posturing and profligacy on a scale that eclipses the very worst history has to offer in comparison. They produce bills that throw money away with the doggedness of the embodiment of the prodigal son, in the very manner they had decried before being elected by the folks at home who desperately hoped this clown would do better than the last one. No matter who we send, though, each is infected with a disease that cripples them as surely as polio did a few generations ago.

There has always been waste in government, and the history books are studded with characters, over the years, who were as self-serving as any today, but it never before seemed there were so many of them all there at once! These days, we have politicians who prey on pages of the same sex, who indulge in bathroom trysts worthy of a NYC bus station, but certainly not the halls of Congress! We have politicians who openly accept money from lobbyists and special interest groups, as if they were entitled to it, and who behave worse than the attendees at a bachelor party. None seem capable of displaying the moral backbone necessary to be either embarrassed or ashamed of their actions. Often, it seems as if the last thing on their minds, in Congress, is anything that we at home might actually want to have done on our behalf. They never cease to tell us of the wonderful things they are sure we were breathlessly waiting for them to perform, but the feedback never seems to make an impression on them, sufficient to cause them any second thoughts.

In the process, the deficit rises as if it were an Agena rocket on lift-off for the moon, health-care costs rise at a related rate, and the economy is in the toilet, despite our (taxpayers) giving Wall Street and the bankers a bailout that staggers the imagination. What did they do with it, you ask? Well, first they handed out bonus checks of up $1 million each to the very clowns who brought the whole mess down around their ears! This was not the actions of "tax-and-spend" democrats, despite what some spin doctors would have us believe. No, this was done by "fiscally conservative" republikans! The price of homes went through the roof, and the best that could be said, by those criminally complicit in the debacle, was that "because" the democrats had done something to the rules for Freddie Mac or Ginnie Mae, or the SEC, or some such, the keys to the henhouse were handed to the foxes! Really? In other words, somehow, if they had been caught with a handgun in their possession, it would have been the fault of the licensing board for letting them have it, I suppose.

What happened to personal accountability? The economic collapse happened, mostly because people were STUPID enough to offer a half million dollars for 20 to 30 year old houses that weren't worth a tenth of that--when they were brand new! Some bought and sold houses, and/or property they never even took possession of, in days, weeks, sometimes in only a few hours. Some of these “sharp” business people thought highly of themselves, investing in even riskier ventures, as if they couldn’t ever fail! Then, when it became apparent there was trouble brewing, some bright lad, no doubt the recipient of several of those $1 million bonuses, came up with the idea of getting around the principal requirement of insurance (that is, to have a specific amount in reserve to pay for all "insured" policies), and invented SWAPS! Swaps are another name for the very same lunacy that brought down Barings Bank, those "derivatives" that proved so pesky one trader lost the whole ball of wax for them ($1.3 BILLION). Swaps are merely derivatives in sheep's clothing, and they did the same thing to the US economy that Nick Leeson did to Barings Bank!

In the late-summer of 2008, suddenly things weren’t selling, people were losing their jobs, or worse. A lot of this happened because for 30 years, Wall Street has indulged itself in essentially looting companies that "under-performed" (meaning they “only“ made enough money to pay their employees and costs, and maybe 10--15% profit), selling junk bonds to bozos who looted the pension funds and sold off the assets of these companies, to pay the horrendous rates on the junk bonds--in the process eliminating hundreds of thousands of jobs, directly, and millions indirectly. The Reagan to bush Era (he doesn't deserve a capital) has been marked by the transition from people working to earn money to people making money by doing nothing productive. After the “junk bond” era, we had the Savings & Loan scandals, where similarly “smart” people thought it OK to not do any pesky “work”, but instead, just loot the Savings Industry by sending crews around to stay ahead of the institution’s inspector, going from job to job, posing as painters, or carpenters, or dry wallers. This was good for stealing $300 BILLION from the Savings & Loans, or so we were told, when the Keating 5 were chastised in Congress. This necessitated a tax cut for these individuals, and those who helped them, because hey, they should get to keep every nickel they “earned“!

The long-term impact of this “policy”, and the other shell games the republikan “conservatives” have pulled on us, has been to make everything chancy, make everyone nervous, and eliminate any sense of security we, the common people ever had. One of the consequences has been the huge increase in the cost of medical care--NOT that doctors are making so much more money, no, but the MIDDLEMAN certainly is! This is hurting us all, from those who have lost their jobs and are worried about keeping their health care, to those who still have jobs, but now must pay ever higher rates to keep their health care. Of course, the health care they have is less valuable now, also, because the HMO's are doing everything in their power to eliminate from their rolls all those who might actually need health care the most. They squeeze ever more patients onto a doctor, while still paying him/her the same amount, or only a little more. All this while the upper management at the HMO's rake in ever higher salaries and "bonuses". Reminds you of the John Grisham thriller "The Rainmaker", doesn't it? That, for those who don’t recall, was a story about an insurance company that sold insurance in poor neighborhoods--with no intention of ever paying on a claim! It's just fiction, right? Keep thinking that, and wait until you need the health care you thought you were promised!
　
The saddest spectacle of all has been the people who show up at Town Hall meetings, and elsewhere, insisting they are “not being paid” by the Health Care interests, decrying the attempt to make health care affordable, and accessible to all those without it. If they truly are doing this out of the “kindness” of their hearts, and NOT at the behest (or on the payroll of) the HMO’s, they are in the process of shooting themselves in the foot, and the rest of us in the back! They are doing the “heavy lifting” for people who have no interest in them, except for what they can extort from them in the way of higher fees for health care, and most likely, even less actual care.

The panderers on Fox News, they of “(Un)Fair and (Un)Balanced” coverage, doubtless significant shareholders in the HMO’s, are far more interested in what they, personally, can realize from the fight, like increased airtime, higher book sales, and maybe even a bigger audience. As H. L. Mencken famously said, “No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public,” and intend to prove his words to the bitter end. On the other hand, P.T. Barnum offered, “The truth is, the more kind and liberal a man is, the more generous will be the patronage bestowed upon him.” In these quotes we find the conflict at hand stated succinctly and on target. On the “right“, are those who act heedlessly, with no scruples to affect how they dissemble and pander to their audience, and on the “left“, are those who give a thought for the others around, others who might be weaker, defenseless or unable to take care of themselves, less capable of coping with the cost.

Being poor, or disabled, is an unfortunate condition, and it is never OK to abuse, or take advantage of them. If someone made unfortunate choices some 20 or 30 or more years ago, does not mean they should have to exist at the mercy of those who might have been more fortunate, more perceptive then. That makes one a “bully”, in that case, if one does take advantage, or hold that misfortune against them. Just as a note, “UN”-fortunate, and “MIS”-fortunate, are merely other ways of saying “unlucky”--those who have been “fortunate”, or “lucky”, are merely that--the beneficiaries of a benevolent God, one who created us all, some to have, and some to have not, those to help provide for those who cannot. They are not better than you or I, just luckier.

In the end, we are held hostage by a few who feel they have the right to an inordinately large share of the moneys generated, more than the doctors who actually provide the care paid for, and by the politicians whose agendas have little to do with our needs or with doing their jobs. They have far more invested in a stalemate than in any solution to the problem and will probably see that the problem remains unsolved as long as possible, possibly forever. There are no winners here, unless you count those who rip off the money, or the pols who rip us off in the name of ideology. The rest of us will suffer one way or another until we pass from this vale of tears. It’s not a pretty picture, nor one I would recommend to any but those with the strongest stomachs, for among the losers are those who will wrench the heart out of you. Children and grandparents, brothers and distant relatives, sentenced to try to live with the least health care possible, all so some can have their cake and eat it too.

R E A L M E N
“Real men pick up after themselves”…I heard this as a tag-line on a Public Service Announcement on a cable channel the other evening and it made me think. The point of the spot was about litter and being man enough to pick it up, even if someone else had dropped it. I cannot stand when some slovenly pig uses the world as his personal trash can, dropping food wrappers, drink cups, bottles, cans or anything more properly disposed of in a trash receptacle. I have always made a practice of putting trash where it belonged, whether at a fast food restaurant or at a camp site, so at first I didn’t give much thought to the message.
Then, on reflection, a second interpretation occurred to me, a different take on the message than those involved in producing might have intended. Real men pick up after themselves, they do not walk away form their responsibilities; they do not create a mess and then shrug off the consequences, as if it were all someone else’s burden to clean up. Real men do not father children and then walk away as if they were merely another inconvenient article of trash to be tossed away. They do not leave one lover for another for the thrill of the chase, to prove their manhood or to demonstrate their charm. Real men understand the need for a father figure in their children’s lives, and for a partner to help with the day-to-day effort that goes into raising children. They also recognize their mate’s need for support, material, financial and emotional, as the years pass by
Real men do not take advantage of the weak or disadvantaged; they do not need to profit by another’s infirmity or inability to respond. A man is known by his acts, and those who act badly are not “real” men, by my definition, nor my father’s, nor by the definition of those whom I’ve known or read and respect. Starting with the earliest role models in the Bible and continuing through the panoply of history, including the examples in literature, “real” men have always been those who display courage, grace, humility, courtesy, humor, honesty, dependability, self-reliance, and steadfastness as their innate qualities.
While I cannot claim to display all these qualities 100% of the time, I have always believed these qualities are of inestimable value in determining my character and the character of others. Whether one considers Joseph ( of the many-colored coat) or Daniel in the Bible, the Count of Monte Cristo or Rhett Butler in fiction, John Wayne or Cary Grant in any of their movies, “real” men always were the ones to be counted on; though they may make mistakes, they came to the right conclusions, made the right decisions, did the right thing, even when it might cost them dearly. A “real” man’s motto could be “Might does not make right”, based on these examples and the many more to be found in all areas of our culture.
If it seems the world today does not value these qualities, based on what we hear in what passes for “music”, or see in the actions of anti-heroes in popular movies and TV programs, one only has to look at the popularity of movies such as “The Passion of the Christ”, or “What Women Want”, or even “Finding Nemo” to find proof that the opposite is in fact true. The values that demonstrate “real” manhood will never go out of date, or become passé, because these values reflect the yearning we all feel to be more than merely another cipher, just another face in the crowd; the longing for a better world and to be better people is what has driven society to improve itself from the earliest cave dwellings to the putative “shining cities” we all wish were a reality of today’s world. That the cities aren’t shining, but are dangerous havens for all manner of miscreants, can be blamed, in part, on those who are not “real” men, merely overgrown boys who haven’t found, or aren’t looking for, the courage, grace, humility, courtesy, humor, honesty, dependability, self-reliance, and steadfastness within themselves that would take them that one giant step into “real” manhood.
There are those types in small cities, towns and hamlets, too, but it is harder to be anonymous in those places; people are less willing to tolerate bad behavior and the continued residence of the malefactor when he lives nearby. It is easier to be a punk in a gang, or in the crowded city where everyone is desperately trying to maintain their own personal space in the face of constant intrusion by strangers. In the smaller towns, people are less desensitized and thus less likely to tolerate a welsher, a deviant, a boor, a wife-beater, a rapist, or the guy who thinks he shouldn’t have to support his kids. Some of these types may congregate at the local bar and congratulate each other on their success at avoiding responsibility, but the rest of the community is vividly aware of their actual status, not of “real” manhood, but that of “loser”, a condition not easily rectified. Since “misery loves company”, they will attract other losers, but they will not achieve the respect accorded “real” men. Some may even be clever enough to conceal the truth for some time, but in the same way “real” value will always shine through the grit and the grime, the lack of those qualities of a “real” man will eventually be revealed and leave them exposed as aging children of the male persuasion.

Looking for the One and Only

Like most people, I long to have someone close, someone I can always rely on, who relies on me as well, someone who is my best friend and biggest booster, someone to whom I can never fully explain how much I love her, because words aren't enough, it just takes time and examples....someone to whom a "life sentence" is a gift. Idealism/romanticism run rampant, in the imperfect world we live in, I know. I believe in these things in complete disregard for the harsher realities the world is forever trying to distract me with, in the firm conviction that she is there, somewhere, trying as hard to reach me as I am her.
She will recognize the true me, see the inner me for the knight-in-shining-armor/little-boy/cary-grant-in-the-rough I know myself to be. I will see her as the guardian-angel/little-girl/Sophia-Loren-meets-Bridgit-Bardot-as-the-ultimate-sex-kitten she wants me to see her as. We will both overlook the little flaws in our makeup and appreciate the wonder in our one-ness. We will make love with such passion it threatens to burst into flame, while feeding each other chocolate-covered cherries in between sips of scented wine, laying in a tangle of arms, legs and various body parts that blurs where one begins and the other ends. We will communicate in a blend of spoken words and mental telepathy, as one starts a sentence and the other finishes it, instantly knowing fully what we are trying to communicate, clearly and without misunderstanding.
Sadly, the reality will be somewhat different, wrinkles and fumbling attempts and missteps, each of us trying to put forward our best face; somehow the heart will see through the superficial reality, the awkward outside, to the real person inside. That's my version, my dream anyway, of love conquering all...that the inner voice we are all ruled by will ultimately steer us toward what we want. Sometimes, too often, we don't have the good sense to recognize what we are seeking when it arrives, being human and vain, being convinced by Hollywood and TV of what "real" romance is, being human and prone to error, stumbling toward ecstasy like kids blindfolded, trying to pin the tail on the donkey, sometimes hitting the target.
This is the true miracle of being human, of actually connecting with that kindred spirit, that one in a million, who is me/you in every way that counts and you/me in the others, a yin for the yang, a key for the lock that keeps our heart safe from intruders and violators. The very possibility keeps the heart young, keeps the lamp trimmed and burning, in the window, for those who would see, for the one who seeks, for the one.