That sounds crazy.
But I again hear tonight on PBS Newshour that 1/7th of our
population, of the Vaunted and Exceptional US of A, is enrolled in SNAP (aka,
the newest comfortable pseudonym for Food Stamps).
For just a moment, I’ll rail … One-seventh of our fellow Americans
are hungry?! And one-fourth of senior citizens eligible for food stamps (aka,
the real term vs. the charade of the innocuous “SNAP”) do not even apply due to
the social stigma and person shame of having to rely on government to feed them
after a lifetime’s work?
[sigh]
My hot dogs are all-beef and the buns often not the
bottom-dollar pasty stuff. And I have a
choice of yummy condiments, stuff that soured in my belly when I thought of
seniors eating cat food. And folks eating only what's dirt-cheap or on sale. Yeah, not polite,
tasty conversation but c’mon, it does happen way too often.
Liberal or Conservative, your flag doesn't matter when it
comes to hunger. Unempowered children,
the elderly who have done a lifetime of honest work, and the mentally ill who
never will get a fair shake: these are
the folks we need to think of when the Boy Scouts arrive at the front door and
when our churches and food banks implore us to donate. I’m shamed tonight to think it’s hard for me to
remember that monthly United Methodist clarion call to bring in food donations
~ where’s my brain, my compassion, my ethical fortitude?
[sigh]
Enough railing. I hope
my spontaneous frustration-with-self translates to even one of you dropping off
a bag of goodies this next week. Make it
Real Food, my friends, not swill you’d
never eat yourself. Me, I case out the
local Albertson’s clearance carts because they only carry decent food and the
prices are at most 50% of regular retail.
And one $10 bag of donations might make someone happy for a whole day. Now let’s see if outraged Jose can remember
more than once a month. “Et tu, Brute?”
P.S. I mean it. Tell me if you dropped off some food for someone else, not out of guilt but just because YOU felt it important to be a Good Mensch.
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