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What happens when you're poor and alone in this country

This is what happens when there's no safety net. This is what happens to the people the Republicans don't want to think about, who are so estranged from their families that they may as well not have them. This is what happens when you don't have rich friends, or any friends who aren't doing more than barely better than you. This is what happens to people in this country who can't drive, couldn't afford a car if they could, and have the bad taste to live outside of the few cities in the U.S. with decent mass transit. This is what happens to poor people in the US.

It's obvious Dallas wasn't a perfect man. It's also obvious that he contributed to his own problems as much as anyone else did. But it's also obvious that he tried, he tried like hell to take care of his boys. He tried like hell to ensure that they knew right from wrong, even when it was inconvenient.

I don't often really talk about what it was like for me growing up. That's all decades done, time-wise. Memory-wise, not so much. We weren't, perhaps, dirt-poor. But there were too many times when the only thing between my family and no food in the house were food stamps. Food stamps are easy to poke fun at, as are the people who sometimes abuse them. But for the people who need them, food stamps mean that tonight you can get fresh fruit, not the shit in a can bathing in syrup, with all the nutritional value of cardboard. Food stamps mean you might have some extra money for "nonessentials", like an eyeglass prescription that is strong enough to work. Food stamps mean food in amounts that make you feel rich, because you have a grocery cart full to bursting of food, not just the kiddie carrier, and a gallon of milk in the main cart. Sure, you have to lug the shit home, and you don't have a car, and you're so very glad that the store manager never seems to notice that you take a couple of days to return the cart to the carrel when you leave. But it's food, and in quantity. Not being able to sleep because you're too full is always better than the other option.

There were too many times when we didn't even have that, and we were so grateful that a bag of rice was cheap. There were too many times when I was grateful that shitty work pants from Sears were only ten bucks a pair. Sure, they looked like shit, but they were clean. That was something. There were too many days that the words "A package from Aunt Mary" meant I had actual new clothes that I might want to wear. There were times when my mom would sit on the couch, the bills she couldn't pay in front of her, and just cry, because that was all she had left. My dad couldn't work due to an auto accident that left him with a permanent limp and took a guy who was a lot of fun to play football with, and turned him into a slow-moving sideline watcher. There were days I wish the car would have finished the job, it would have been kinder. I think that, more than anything, was why they fought so much. Because they both had been so far from where they were, and now, they were barely out of a shelter.

Being poor, that level of poor...I can't describe what it does to your soul and your spirit. Even now, when I'm making what was, by my standards then, an incalculable amount of money, I still can have these spasms where I feel that old fear, that somehow, I'm going to slip up, and my son will have to go through what I did in high school. When you're that poor, and you've finally snapped, and shot the shit out of your smoker, and the cops are there, and you realize that all you have to do is lift your hand, and you'll never be poor again, and maybe, just maybe, your boys really will be better off without their loser father in their life, dragging them down...

If you ever wonder why I talk about the Air Force with the...respect and reverence I do, it's because beyond all the stories, and all the humor, the decision I made to join the military is what perhaps kept me from continuing on the only path I knew. So very much of my success is due to the USAF, the people I worked with there, and how they all conspired to turn me into something that can be called a success...I really don't have the right words, you know?

When the Republicans talk about being unable to afford to support the poor in this country, and "tightening our belts", Dallas is who they're talking about. Dallas, and millions of others, who don't have a belt to tighten, and if they did, it's as tight as it will go. People like Dallas who maybe have a bit too much pride to ask a stranger for help, and so suffer more than they should. People like Dallas who aren't gaming the system, but just trying to keep their family going for another day, another month, another year. It's easy to castigate him for buying trivial things every time he had money, but that's what you do when you're poor in a rich country. Any chance you get, you buy stupid shit, because, even if it's just for a moment, the chance to have something shiny, new, and as nice as, maybe even better than what your neighbors have is a chance to get your pride back. If everyone around you is poor, it's easier, in a way. But when you walk to school, in old clothes, and you see your classmates pulling up in Mercedes and the occasional Ferrari, it burns, and it hurts, and you'll do almost anything to have something shiny, and pretty, and new. Even if it means you're stupid about money sometimes, and you buy a smoker instead of a short-term CD.

The next time someone tells you that we don't need the government to provide a safety net, that private industry and private charity will always fill the gap, remember that no, it won't. Just ask Dallas.

Categories: Other, Politics

Posted by John C. Welch at 22:25 | Permalink

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Read this.\n\nThis is what happens when there's no safety net. This is what happens to the people the Republicans don't want to think about, who are so estranged from their families that they may as well not have them. This is what happens when you don't have rich friends, or any friends who aren't doing more than barely better than you. This is what happens to people in this country who can't drive, couldn't afford a car if they could, and have the bad taste to live outside of the few cities in the U.S. with decent mass transit. This is what happens to poor people in the US.\n\nIt's obvious Dallas wasn't a perfect man. It's also obvious that he contributed to his own problems as much as anyone else did. But it's also obvious that he tried, he tried like hell to take care of his boys. He tried like hell to ensure that they knew right from wrong, even when it was inconvenient. \n\nI don't often really talk about what it was like for me growing up. That's all decades done, time-wise. Memory-wise, not so much. We weren't, perhaps, dirt-poor. But there were too many times when the only thing between my family and no food in the house were food stamps. Food stamps are easy to poke fun at, as are the people who sometimes abuse them. But for the people who need them, food stamps mean that tonight you can get fresh fruit, not the shit in a can bathing in syrup, with all the nutritional value of cardboard. Food stamps mean you might have some extra money for \"nonessentials\", like an eyeglass prescription that is strong enough to work. Food stamps mean food in amounts that make you feel rich, because you have a grocery cart full to bursting of food, not just the kiddie carrier, and a gallon of milk in the main cart. Sure, you have to lug the shit home, and you don't have a car, and you're so very glad that the store manager never seems to notice that you take a couple of days to return the cart to the carrel when you leave. But it's food, and in quantity. Not being able to sleep because you're too full is always better than the other option. \n\nThere were too many times when we didn't even have that, and we were so grateful that a bag of rice was cheap. There were too many times when I was grateful that shitty work pants from Sears were only ten bucks a pair. Sure, they looked like shit, but they were clean. That was something. There were too many days that the words \"A package from Aunt Mary\" meant I had actual new clothes that I might want to wear. There were times when my mom would sit on the couch, the bills she couldn't pay in front of her, and just cry, because that was all she had left. My dad couldn't work due to an auto accident that left him with a permanent limp and took a guy who was a lot of fun to play football with, and turned him into a slow-moving sideline watcher. There were days I wish the car would have finished the job, it would have been kinder. I think that, more than anything, was why they fought so much. Because they both had been so far from where they were, and now, they were barely out of a shelter.\n\nBeing poor, that level of poor...I can't describe what it does to your soul and your spirit. Even now, when I'm making what was, by my standards then, an incalculable amount of money, I still can have these spasms where I feel that old fear, that somehow, I'm going to slip up, and my son will have to go through what I did in high school. When you're that poor, and you've finally snapped, and shot the shit out of your smoker, and the cops are there, and you realize that all you have to do is lift your hand, and you'll never be poor again, and maybe, just maybe, your boys really will be better off without their loser father in their life, dragging them down...\n\nIf you ever wonder why I talk about the Air Force with the...respect and reverence I do, it's because beyond all the stories, and all the humor, the decision I made to join the military is what perhaps kept me from continuing on the only path I knew. So very much of my success is due to the USAF, the people I worked with there, and how they all conspired to turn me into something that can be called a success...I really don't have the right words, you know?\n\nWhen the Republicans talk about being unable to afford to support the poor in this country, and \"tightening our belts\", Dallas is who they're talking about. Dallas, and millions of others, who don't have a belt to tighten, and if they did, it's as tight as it will go. People like Dallas who maybe have a bit too much pride to ask a stranger for help, and so suffer more than they should. People like Dallas who aren't gaming the system, but just trying to keep their family going for another day, another month, another year. It's easy to castigate him for buying trivial things every time he had money, but that's what you do when you're poor in a rich country. Any chance you get, you buy stupid shit, because, even if it's just for a moment, the chance to have something shiny, new, and as nice as, maybe even better than what your neighbors have is a chance to get your pride back. If everyone around you is poor, it's easier, in a way. But when you walk to school, in old clothes, and you see your classmates pulling up in Mercedes and the occasional Ferrari, it burns, and it hurts, and you'll do almost anything to have something shiny, and pretty, and new. Even if it means you're stupid about money sometimes, and you buy a smoker instead of a short-term CD. \n\nThe next time someone tells you that we don't need the government to provide a safety net, that private industry and private charity will always fill the gap, remember that no, it won't. Just ask Dallas.