2001-08-04 -
7:53 a.m.
THROUGH THE CRACKSA fellow my roommate brought home one evening, had obviously been informed of my situation. He looked all around at my artwork and my whatnots and said, “God sure goes out of his way to keep you humble.” What a delightful way to put it!
What is it about being poor that people despise so readily and claim with such gusto? No matter how large a person’s bank account, he will consistently claim he is poorer than he really is. Ross Perot, a billionaire, claims he grew up in a home of modest means. His family members were in the country club. I doubt "modest" is an appropriate term to use. On the other hand, poor folk do it too. I've had any number of low-income people tell me, "I'm in the same boat as you." I want to say, "You have a vehicle, a refrigerator and stove and running water. You make three times the income that I make. How can you claim such a thing?" They do it even though aware of my circumstances. I know of folks who are worse off than I. I feel for them.
Poverty is time consuming, labor-intensive and rife with unnecessary emotional burdens.
To be judged by others as somehow not worthy or lazy or ignorant based solely on the size of your wallet is the most disheartening experience.
My friend, a writer in his 90's, was on my front porch crying about how he had been denied his disability payments. He had always thought the poor were that way because they didn't want to work. He never considered that poverty might be a tornado in your life that never goes away. He took it as a personal slap in the face from heaven. That he would have to sell off some of his land, a few of his vehicles and other little whatnots just to make his house-payment made him feel guilty of some wrong-doing--made him feel unworthy as a man.
When I worked for the government, my job was to interview people who were unemployed. Those that I found the most disturbing were the factory workers whose unemployment had run out. These men were going through the same feelings as my friend. They had bought the American dream that if you work hard and behave responsibly you will be all right. Just as they had thought the poor were poor because they are irresponsible and lazy, so they believed the only way for it to happen to them would be for them to behave badly. Never would they be like that. Not in a million years. Never say “Never”.
Those who know me, know for a fact that all I do is work. I don't go to parties or social events. I don't have fun. It has taken years of dedication and sometimes back-breaking labor to build my income to what it is today. I make less than 200.00 a month. At my income level, it's easy for others to blow me off when it comes time to pay me for the work I do. I am often left standing with my hand out, while they go off and play. I have no clout.
A while back, an area bank had an ad on television. Some spit and polish cowboy telling me that, “We all know money can’t buy good health.” That’s BS!! Money can and does buy good health. Try to get a check up or a broken tooth fixed without cash or coverage.
My teeth started breaking from an impacted molar about 10 years ago. It took me so long to get the money begging everyone I knew for help that by the time I got it pulled, the damage was done.
Since then, I have lost a number of teeth. If they broke vertically, I could manage to pull some out with pliers. Some folks think that makes me really tough. The truth is, it hurt less to do that than to leave them in.
Most folks think there are programs out there to help folks like me. Since the welfare reform act went into effect, there aren’t. Take my word for it. That’s what all the hoopla is about with the faith-based initiative. The current government under Resident Bush doesn’t think it’s the government’s responsibility to help the poor. They think it’s the purview of the community and the churches to do the helping. I think I agree. But that doesn’t mean the community and the churches will.
I work at the church in Peacock. I’ve been doing this for 3 and a half years now. The maximum number of hours I am allowed to work in a week is 8. The wage I receive is 5.50 an hour. I have never had a raise. Recently, some of the parishioners became aware of my circumstances. I had an ear infection that had started with, you guessed it, an abscessed tooth and asked the church leaders why they weren’t helping me. I didn’t ask them to do so. But boy did I catch hell for it.
I love the Good Shepherd, but Lord, protect me from the sheep!!
When I learned they were going to help me go to the doctor, I thought it was really nice. I made an appointment. But then I learned they were demanding I go and apply for assistance. I said I wouldn’t do that. I had already done it several times just to prove to others that I know what I’m talking about when I say I’m not eligible. I’m too young for some, too old, too healthy, not healthy enough. I slip through the cracks. I don’t think it’s reasonable to assume there are programs available when one has no first-hand experience with them.
The worst part was they assumed I hadn’t done those things. I was told, “You can’t expect the church to support you.” (I never asked them to. Someone else asked without my knowledge.) And, “You need to learn to face reality.” I lost it then. I said, “I’m 50 years old. If I haven’t learned by now, I probably won’t.”
I wasn’t going to go through the agony of applying for programs that I knew would turn me down at the end. Just ask those who’ve ever applied for welfare how they felt about the experience. The process is intrusive and humiliating.
I ranted on. “Why do you insist you know anything about my life or how I came to be in these circumstances? You are not entitled to be condescending or disrespectful simply because you offer to pay a bill.” The reply, “What do you mean, condescending?” Oh boy. I repeated his words back to him. I think he began to understand then why I was angry. I told him, “I’m a nice person. I don’t go around doing damage, and I don’t hurt anybody. You have no business judging me.” After our conversation was over, I cancelled the doctor’s appointment. Someone recently asked me if I could get help from the church. I said, “They don’t do that here.” Brother, “That which ye do to the least of these…do ye also unto me.” I am the least of these.
