I watched as a State Patrol officer carefully navigated through the homeless camp. His cruiser parked on the side of the highway with lights flashing, the decrepit, makeshift tents tucked under scrubby trees and the litter everywhere gave an immediate impression of danger and courage. My eyes took this all in at high speed, his crisp, clean uniform, the way he was likely watching for sharp needles hidden in the dirt and weeds. I wondered, why was he there? Did someone call 911? There were no people I could see to meet him. He gingerly walked toward the tents. He was alone. This did not seem right on so many levels.
How did we get here? Here, where huge numbers of men, women, veterans and children are discarded on the side of the road. Here, where brave people are left to manage the “untouchables” in our society. Here, where the rest of us drive on around the corner feeling lost and hopeless to solve this problem.
I once suggested calling 911 over and over again, every time I saw a homeless person in distress, as a way to raise the call-in numbers and force more funding for the disenfranchised in our society. Is that the entry point to fixing this problem? Do we force the government to pay for more EMT’s to take these folks to the hospitals? Do we force a larger line in the budget to support social service agencies to hire more social workers to provide these folks with services that will turn their lives around? Do we agree to pay taxes toward care for these people that actually make a difference? How do we get the village to work this problem together because it can’t be done by individuals, it can’t be done by charities and churches and it can’t be done by a lone cop walking into who knows what kind of peril. If these solutions could work, we’d be all set by now.
If the average American were able to assist their son or daughter or sister or uncle to get help, it would have happened by now. We can no longer delude ourselves there are enough volunteers to manage this avalanche of need in our society. I am deeply grateful to our military and our police, our EMT’s and other First Responders and we can talk all day about how we honor these gritty and hardy frontline people, but until we back that up with broad support for all the jobs we ask them to do, our best intentions turn into platitudes.
We need to demand of our representatives a budget in congress that reflects our values and needs as a nation. It’s considered unpatriotic to question the military budget but this righteously imposed gag rule keeps the average American from really looking at the issue. It seems there are greedy folks working hard to keep us in the dark because knowledgeable Americans will upset the money making military machine. If the budget can’t take close scrutiny, especially the military budget, there must not be good answers to hard questions.
You may want to do some research on how the budget is spent, on who benefits from it’s current configuration, and notice the proposed budget gives more money to the military than even the pentagon requested. Why is that? Look at what is going on and send an email to your representative regarding your values. Ask for an audit of the military budget. The last time we did that, we discovered we were paying hundreds of dollars for one toilet or screwdriver. We can no longer be blind sheep.
If we had money in the budget for the struggling, the unlucky and the disadvantaged, that State Patrol Officer would be two officers with EMT’s and Social Workers at the ready to make an actual difference for the people who don’t know how or can’t seem to get their lives on track. We need The Helpers who create programs that work, places filled with care that we can still donate to, still volunteer for, but don’t have to worry about the backbone of the organization.
Wake up, look around. We are defining the Soul of America. Where do you come in? We solve these issues together. As One. See that police officer doing more than he should have to do. See the homeless on the street as people. And decide what you will do.
Then do it.
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