Town of Abundance

Several years back I had the priveledge of working with young moms/moms to be in the inner city of Milwaukee.  Primarily the north side.  And anyone who is familiar with the city of Milwaukee knows that this is inarguably the most impoverished areas in the city.  And as such, it is also the most crime ridden.  Now I say priveledge, but let me assure you at the time I didn't consider this a priveledge at all.  In fact, my placement at this agency was a misfortune.  My master plan was to be placed in the comfort of Waukesha...a city I was familiar with.  In location that was deemed safe.  But I had played my cards wrong.  I wasn't aware that I couldn't be placed in the same agency that I volunteered at.  And sorry...unfortunately there are no other placements except the north side of Milwaukee.  FUCK!!

Well, my fuck became a double fuck when I actually started working my placement.  To begin with, I didn't know my way around that side of town AT ALL.  And this was before the day in age where everyone had a GPS.  I think this may have been even pre flip phone technology days.  So I was continually lost and perpetually terrified.  I remember riding with one of the other case-workers on a joint home visit when someone approached the car.  Someone obviously very poor, probably homeless and (if I had to guess) an addict approached the car.  I nearly crapped my trousers.  Pete however was totally and completely at ease.  Not a tense bone in his body.  Talking to this guy completely fearless.  Perhaps it was because he was a man and didn't have that added fear of potential sexual assault.  Perhaps it was because Pete himself isn't exactly a dainty fella.  But even the biggest and baddest of us go down when bullets start flying.  And bullets flying wasn't incredibly uncommon in this area.  But obviously that didn't even cross Pete's mind.  Sure, the guy asked for money...but then he just talked.  I don't know how long...I just remember it seemed like too long...WAY too long.  A  conversation from start to finish complete with a greeting and a farewell.

There were many sad and scary stories from my time at this agency.  There were women dependent on drug dealers to support their babies.  There were babies with diapers so saturated it was hanging on the ground.  There were mothers 10 months pregnant being kicked out of their homes.  There were mothers holding new born babies that came home to locks changed and eviction notices.  There were shelters...filled to the brim with absolutely zero spots to help these women.  There were no jobs, there were few fathers and there was little hope.

But there were outskirts to this area too...the fringe areas where life was slightly less grim.  In those areas there were at least some jobs, albeit poorly paid ones.  SOME people were at least getting by...then again, plenty weren't.  It was still a rough area, but not as desperate as the inner regions.  I'd frequent the gas stations here...to get gas, to get coffee.  Whatever.  It was in the "better area" and on a main drag, so I felt relatively safe. Especially after what I was used to going through.  This was also a hot spot for beggars.  Whether they were suffering from mental illness, suffering from addiction or suffering from bad times...one thing is certain, they were suffering.  And they sat outside in hopes to get spare change.

What you saw at this gas station was really quite amazing.  Something you wouldn't see in the comfort of the suburbs.  Something truly beautiful.  Patrons would walk in...pay for their gas or their snacks or their cigarettes or whatever and then, without question, would give their change to the beggar and wish him well.  This wasn't just ONE person.  It was MOST of the people.  Most of the people came out and gave their change...even those that didn't still gave a wave or a nod...acknowledged him as a person.  Didn't pretend as if he was invisible...you know, what we do to beggars in the burbs.  Actually, we call police on beggars here in the burbs.

Here in my small white town, most folks have money.  Most folks have lots of money, and there's nothing wrong with that.  Here in this town of abundance, the families give generously.  Private donations from local families help make our school stand out not just state wide but even regionally (midwest).  Our food pantry is so generously stocked that they are able to expand their services to provide rent/mortgage assistance and car payment assistance. Our churches and schools spearhead fundraising campaigns to help the needy.  Gift programs for needy families during christmas time.  Clothing drives.  Help the starving children in Nigeria.  You name it, they've got a program for it and they're raising money for it.

Now I am one of the few that's poor in my community....that being said, I'm not LEGALLY poor (as in below poverty level).  We are the working poor; however, at one point in time I was the real legal deal.  Dirt poor.  My husband, as a result of a failing economy, lost his construction based job as a plumber.  He was union...he was put at the bottom of a 400 count list that wasn't moving.  We were on welfare.  Food stamps, WIC, Badgercare, energy assistance.  Oh...and I was pregnant.  2 days after he lost his job (coincidentally mere days before he was scheduled to get a substantial raise)  I found out I was expecting.  I could go on and on about why me not working wasn't a possibility.  How him getting persuing his own employment put us at risk of being sued. How non-plumber work would have crippled us even moreso financially.  But that's not the purpose of this blog here.  I'm not here to  get into a welfare debate.

I'm here to tell you that in my little white town of abundance, this is what I observed.  The school who wrote newsletters saying how they realize there are families in our own community who are IN NEED!!!  That school called me back after I notified them that my husband finally recieved work...they called me back to ask me to pay back scholarship funds that helped pay for school registration.  Registration that I couldn't afford because we had just had a baby, my husband had been unemployed for a year and we were on welfare.  They called and said, "We were just wondering since you're working now, if you had the money"  Yes, this was SCHOLARSHIP money.  And yes, I did have to include a bunch of embarassing paperwork to prove to them just how poor I was...including social security number, income documentation and have the board approve my poverty status before our family was approved for this scholarship.  And yes, I then had to suffer the embarassment of having the school call back in an incredibly awkward conversation...trying to get back what they gave.  How hurt, embarassed and guilty I felt after that conversation.  How degenerate.

How when I went to the grocery store and went to the checkout, the looks and eye rolls I recieved from people because I had to split up my order to accomodate several WIC checks.  Then do the final order with Food Stamps.  And the looks (yes, I even had someone have the nerve to comment) when I would buy cookies or ice cream as a treat for my kid.  The only thing I could give them....the only thing I could treat them to for over a year.  But for some reason, in my white town of abundance, people thought we needed to suffer more.  People didn't care that bringing home a bag of cookies made my kids smile.  And maybe it wasn't just for the kids, because I needed that smile as well.  It was grim times.  There were lots of tears.  And a smile from a fuckin cookie meant a lot, alright?

The truth is, in our white town of abundance people are happy to give to a cause, but only a faceless cause.  They are happy to help the underpriveledged in our community by giving a few hundred bucks to the food pantry. Or a few hundred bucks to the free clinic.  They'll gather toys to give to an organization who provide gifts for poor families.  But they hesitate to bring a care package to the neighbor who just lost his job.  Or a pack of diapers and wipes to the mom who they know has nothing but food stamps (and for those of you fortunate enough to be welfare ignorant, those don't buy diapers).  They will throw another $50 in the collection plate to help a sister congregation in another country, but they won't help the person suffering in the pew next to them.

Now I'm not trying to bash my town.  I feel very blessed for my children to be able to attend the school that they're at.  The teachers are amazing...they truly care about the children.  And I've never met a more involved principal. And I'm certainly not trying to portray an inner city community as superior to suburban communities.  Lord knows that there are some very real horrors that inner city residents face daily.  There's  high rates of child abuse, domestic violence, violent crime, theft, vandilism...all consequences of a poverty stricken area.  So my point isn't to glorify one community while bashing the other.

But why is it that in our white town of abundance we only feel comfortable giving to a faceless institution? What is it about the individual...about seeing a suffering face in need, that makes us suspicious?  We write our checks to organizations without expectation.  But when we help an actual person, we have expectations.  We don't want to give, we want to micro-manage.

Let me tell you how this is failing our community.  Help isn't only in dollars and services.  As someone who has been on the brink of financial collapse, I can tell you money makes some things happen, no doubt.  When you give to the food pantry they will buy toilet paper and food.  When you give to the clinic they will be able to provide uninsured families with health care.  And when you give to the toy drive at school, poor families will be given toys to give to their children at Christmas time.  And I'm not saying you shouldn't give to those organizations!! You SHOULD!!  They need help!  But let me tell you a little bit about those organizations.  When you go the food pantry, you have to provide documentation that you are poor enough to receive services.  You provide your social security cards, you provide your income/lack of income verification.  If your income exceeds the amount, you need to have someone (priest/doctor/etc) vouch that you need the services (at least that's what it's like here).  When you give to the toy drive, families that want to receive the gifts need to fill out an application along with documentation that yes..they are indeed poor enough.  It goes to their worker for approval, and if approved, the family will be put on the list for as a gift recipient.  I'm not saying that these applications aren't necessary.  Organizations have a responsibility to those who give to them to ensure that their services are being used to support their mission.  Because of this, they need to screen for abuse.  I GET that. But just because it's necessary doesn't mean it's not dehumanizing.  Every time you're asked for piles of verification just to get a few cans of beans and a voucher for milk.  When you're already wondering how you're going to explain christmas this year for kids who don't understand why it matters...after all, even if we don't have money, santa can bring it!!  And then be asked to submit a begging application for review.  Just because it's necessary doesn't mean it's not dehumanizing.

But something different happens when you give to a face.  A person who you can see with your own two eyes...perhaps you even know their name.  Maybe you know their story (or at least part of it).  Maybe you see them every Sunday. Or maybe your daughter sits with her daughter at lunch.  When you open your eyes to the suffering that is within arms reach, you bring hope.  At a time when you are at your lowest...when you question whether you will ever see a day without tears.  When the suffering seems like it's endless and the weight unbearable.  One knock on the door with a meal.  One phone call to ask if you're okay and you need anything.  One pack of diapers.  It isn't about how much was spent.  It doesn't matter whether it's enough to fill the gaps.  That's irrelevant.  What it does is give people hope.  In a mess where all they are is grovelers filling out beggars applications, they suddenly become human again.  Someone cares...about THEM.  Love and hope. That is what runs short long before the bank account dwindles and the house gets foreclosed upon.  What a gift to give to someone.

Maybe the difference is the inner city is no stranger to suffering.  There are few people who haven't been touched by bad times...bad circumstances.  Those people can more clearly see their own face in the face of the beggar. But there's a keen understanding that the 30 or 50 cents they give to the guy outside of the gas station isn't about the money...it's about understanding their suffering. Acknowledging their shared human suffering.  And the importance not being seen as your situation, but as a human being.  One of God's children.

   

Chicken Wisdom and Other Misc. Shit

I don't know what to say today...Not as in there's no words for today. It's just a day without words.  It's raining.  I have no internet which pretty much sucks donkey balls.  And I finished yesterday, and I finished it well.   Which I guess was more emotionally exhausting than I had imagined.  So I guess that's where I'm at this morning.  Sipping some coffee from ma' old coffee cup, watching the chickens fluff their feathers in the rain and listening to silence.  Eerie silence where there is no Molly or Callum...Penny is fast asleep. Dog is asleep, cat is asleep. Jamie and Uncle Poops are gone. But the fucking tick of that clock is LOUD.  

One thing that I have been coming back to, is my friend talked about having a goal to start up a photography business...then as she said that she paused and said, "Yes, I said it...I have goals...never before in my life have I had goals."  Neither have I.  Well, I've had the same goal of loosing x amount of pounds for the past what??  My entire life.  Fuck that goal.  That isn't a goal, that's my demon.  I wonder what my goal might be...if I'll ever even have one.  Meh, it's enough right now just to get through today. I'm not there yet.

You know what's amazing?  Fucking chickens are.  There they are, happily pecking away near where the walking path is.  Along comes a dog...a predator.  They are aware...keenly aware of his presence which they express through a sideways cock of their chicken head...i swear the one eye that's cocked outward almost seems to bulge out a little as if to say "I see ya, ya fuckin mutt"  But they don't run off...they don't stop being chickens because there's a threat.  They are simply aware that it exists...and until that thing starts chasing them, they're gonna keep on being chickens.  Enjoying their tasty bugs.  They do the same thing when the hawk circles....upward tilt of the head. A few squaks to alert the others. With the hawk though they go in the bushes.  But they don't stay in the bushes...when the hawk goes, they don't spend their life scared hiding in the bushes.  They go out and eat some delicious bugs and enjoy their chicken-tastic life. We could learn something from animals, couldn't we??  Well, except deer.  Seriously, if a car is going to hit you, I don't care how pretty the lights are, get the fuck outta the way.

 
So I met up with an old friend of mine yesterday for dinner. We recently "reconnected" first via facebook, and then face to face at an unofficial reunion of old friends a few weeks back. Not only was it amazing to actually meet a friend for dinner. I mean me?? A friend?!? *Squeal!* But she's also doing some pretty incredibly things in her life right now. When I say pretty incredible I mean people should be firing off fireworks or some shit, that's how incredible it is. She's making changes. HUGE changes. Life saving and life fueling changes. In short, it's pretty fucking awesome!

And she's at that most inspirational stage of transformation...that time where she's steps out of the water, but she's still keenly aware what it's like being wet. I guess that's what we refer to as consciousness, and hey, consciousness is an admirable quality. But for people who have lived an entire life unconscious...sometimes even intentionally unconscious. I think this being consious business takes on a whole new dimension. And she's rocking it, and I'm super proud of her. And very inspired.

So anyhow, one of the things she talked about was how her blog helped her. That sometimes just doing and thinking was complicated, so putting pen to paper (er, fingers to keyboard) helped create calm in what seemed like a scrambled mess. Scrambled mess...ah yes, that describes my mind to a T. But that these life changes she wanted to make caused her scrambled mess to become a scrambled and splattered mess!! Yup, the it's gonna get worse before it gets better bullshit. That's usually where I throw in the towel. But she trudged on. Feeling it, experiencing it...probably hating it. But facing it. Usually at this point I would have had my hands over my ears going "LALALALALA!!" But the good news in all of this, is she had done all of those things too...then she didn't. Hope.

So here I am this morning. Thankful for dinner with a friend...amazed how the right people just seem to fall into your life at the perfect time. Writing a blog to unfuck my mind...or at least to see my fucked-up-ness in a clearer light. And with hope.