Its strange. I take long walks to keep this 81-year-old body of mine in some kind of half-decent shape, and the truth is that you simply cant walk for long in my neighborhood of New York City without passing some poor soul wrapped in a blanket, sleeping on the street or huddled in a doorway with seemingly nothing more to his and yes, they usually are men name and obviously no place to live. Its a daily reminder that this world of ours, even leaving Donald Trump and crew aside (which is, of course, absolutely impossible), is anything but a glorious one.
Only this afternoon, in fact, coming home, I passed what essentially was a pile of blankets in a modest-sized doorway and realized that under them, though I couldn't see him, was indeed a human being, in what can only pass for not a living room but a living hell. And in all too many senses, given the planet were on, hell is certainly the right word for it. After all, Donald Trump is determined not just to make the lives of this country's (even this planets) billionaires ever so much better, and to hell with those guys in doorways, but to leave the rest of us living on an Earth that will someday be a new heat zone something that, in the end, could do in millions of us. Only recently, for instance, his administration revealed plans to open 1.3 billion (and no, that billion is not a mistake!) acres of coastal waters to oil and natural gas drilling.
I mean, if you want a little grotesque symbolism for where we all are right now, just think about the fire yes, a fire! that broke out recently at that U.N. climate conference in Brazil. Consider that a symbolic sign of the progress (regress?) of climate change in a distinctly up close and personal fashion. And yes, given the world were in, its all too easy to imagine that, as TomDispatch regular Frida Berrigan suggests today, we may be living not in a victory culture, though President Trump would love to think that, but increasingly in a global culture of defeat. And with that in mind, let her take you in a deeply personal fashion into the world of yes, Donald Trump and the rest of us. Tom
Giving a Fig
Getting By, Up Close and Personal, in the World of Donald Trump
Do you have a silver card? I do. I live in New London, Connecticut, and while I don't get EBT (Electronic Benefit Transfers) anymore, I still carry the card as a talisman. Its nestled in my wallet right behind my drivers license. It reminds me that there was a time when I needed help and was able to get it. Its the kind of reminder we all need and one that's in ever shorter supply these days.
When I was poorer, that card filled every month with money I could spend on food fruits and vegetables, oil, spices, and cheese at the grocery store. I marshalled my resources carefully then, never taking them for granted.
When Congress and the Trump White House shut the government down recently, they hit 42 million Americans right in their wallets. They took that stability away. They hit mine too, after a fashion, because suddenly my neighbors and friends had empty cards and wallets. People rushed in to help. The little libraries in our neighborhood were suddenly filled with canned goods and jars of peanut butter and jelly. All the downtown businesses started offering discounts or free things if you showed your silver card. A teenager gave out free hot dogs in a local park, and our food co-op started a drive to pay for $20 gift cards to offer struggling shoppers.
After about a week and in response to calls, emails, and letters a clamor from so many in the Nutmeg State Connecticut did the right thing. Hartford used its rainy day fund to fully fund cards for residents. Our millionaire governor, who recently announced that hes running for a third term, insisted that he'd bill the federal government for the cost of the stolen benefits.
And the goodwill is still going strong. This is shaping up to be a bountiful Thanksgiving for food pantries and soup kitchens in our area, and I'm already planning my outfit for directing traffic at our local food pantry next Friday. Ill be head-to-toe in high viz.
This is all beautiful. Its heartening and we need more of it. Its an all-too-human response to the Trump administrations assault on what was left of good government. His graft machine came into power promising to make the government small enough to drown in a toilet. He unleashed Elon Musk and his army of young bros to smash and trash the bureaucracy. In the first weeks of his new administration, a century whoops, I mean months ago, more than 200,000 federal employees were pink-slipped, shown the door, or simply locked out. Foreign aid to the globally needy was left to moulder. Contraception bound for the Global South was incinerated. Effective, long-standing programs were shuttered without warning.
Small Ways to Be Useful
I struggled through all of that, feeling small and far from the power centers where good people were being shown the door. I tried to keep my eyes focused on what my own community needed most and did indeed find a modest way to be useful.
On Mondays and Wednesday mornings, I bundle up, don a high-viz vest, and head out to a nearby corner. For an hour, I walk that intersection, accompanying middle schoolers across the street and standing with little kids waiting for buses. I chat with parents and wave at cars, the trucks of contractors, and city buses. People toot their horns or shout my name from open car windows, waving good morning as they head to work.
I give speeders the stink eye and, when there are lulls, I pick up garbage and think about the day ahead. And then I see more kids coming and plan to casually help without letting them break stride. I greet them with warm respect. It hasn't taken me long to recognize them all.
You may wonder: How did I get here? Let me back up and tell you the story because it connects to how our community is bulking up its care response network in the age of Trump.
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