53%

I have to take a minute and comment on this whole "I AM the 53%" response to Occupy Wall Street. Of course the original stat* itself is a distortion. And of course the underlying implication is that only those 47% slacker/losers are occupying Wall St or involved in the movement elsewhere. Of course if you are protesting the system as it exists right now, it is because you don't work, don't want to work, want a free hand-out, and probably don't shower regularly either. Which of course isn't true about the people involved in the Occupations, but it makes for much more interesting propaganda this way, right?

Once you divide up that 47% what you find is about half of them are simply too poor to pay taxes. That is anyone with an income level below $26,400 a year for a family of 4 taking standard deductions. These people are the working poor. People who go to work every day, or most days, since many low-paying jobs do not hire anyone for full-time. Or perhaps literally every day since they have to juggle the hours from 2 different jobs to even come close to stretching the ends together. They take care of your kids when you drop them off at day care. They change the sheets for your elderly parents in nursing homes. They ring up your gas and lottery tickets at the gas station, and your No. 12 meal with a coke at the fast food place for lunch. You may be able to convince yourself that you work harder or your work is more valuable and so it's no big deal they are paid so little, but just imagine how well your day would run without their help.

So you want them to pay taxes too, right? Aside from the fact they DO pay taxes and fees on everything else they use, OK then! Let's add income tax to the mix. How will we do that? By paying them enough money so they can pay taxes! Then let's see how much your latte costs, how much more it will be for a tank of gas, how many bargains you'll find at Walmart. I about bet within a very short time you're going to wish you were paying less than a buck a year in taxes for a poor mom to get some free milk for her kids through the WIC program than for how much it would cost you to actually pay everyone who works what they need to pay taxes themselves.

And another thing I cannot understand. All of this anger directed towards the poor. It's especially ironic when it comes from people who declare themselves to be good Christians, since Jesus was pretty clear which side of the rich/poor divide he was on, but that aside, how can you be this enraged at people who basically have nothing? Yeah yeah I know that you personally saw the proverbial welfare queen swiping her food stamp card to pay for a cart full of steaks and lobster, which you cannot afford to buy with cash! Which she loaded into a brand new Escalade she beeped open with a diamond-encrusted key ring. Except I don't believe you or anyone has ever actually seen this, anymore than anyone "personally knows" someone who named their twins Lemonjello and Orangejello but by all means, keep the legends alive. Do you think being poor is fun? Hey those homeless people don't even have to work a day anywhere, and they can roam around wherever their feet can take them, and even get some meals and a place to sleep at maybe if it's super hot or really cold! Do you have any idea at all how soul-sucking it is to always be scrounging up a few bucks to stay ahead of having utilities shut off? To never see any part of the world outside of your own city block? Unless it's on TV and you're kinda mad they have TVs to begin with! To never be able to give your child something special they want and would probably appreciate a whole lot more than most of the kids who have everything? And then you get pissed off because they buy a store-baked birthday cake? Because they could manage their money better than that! Why can't you understand that there are no easy fixes for poverty? No one is suggesting you have to spend your Thanksgiving dishing out meals at a soup kitchen but can you at least TRY to set aside your anger for a small amount of compassion? For maybe a day or so, just to see how it feels?

Back to the "We Are The 53%" counter-movement. I went to the website and read some of their stories. One after another are people who have lost job, been laid off, filed bankruptcy....??? OK you made it anyhow. That's great. You don't want a hand-out. We don't either. And yet, you're angry at us for believing someone who makes millions should pay their fair share too?! Some of the same people whose mismanagement caused the economic problems that lead to yours to begin with? Only they got bailed out and you did not but you defend them? I truly do not get it.

I picked this woman's story somewhat at random. You seem like a hard-working young woman who has accomplished a lot. I'm sure your parents are very proud. To begin with though, if your family is middle class, they should have been able to help you go to college. If you worked hard and got good grades, it should not have come down to waiting by the mailbox holding your breath every day to see if maybe you'd be the one lucky enough to get a scholarship. It also sounds as though you are probably still in college too. It doesn't sound like you work while you're in school or you probably would have mentioned it so I have to assume you either live at home or your family supports you in some way. So in fact you do have many breaks that not everyone can manage. Either way, I hope your hard work continues to pay off because this is about the fact that for most of us, even doing everything "right" has not. Do us a favor and check back when you graduate and head out into the real world, OK? I hope you don't find out all of your hard work and dedication will get you no farther than a job as a sales clerk at Old Navy. Like it or not, you are the 99%.



*

This Is About You, Too,

It seems a little silly at first. Something as important-sounding as a General Assembly being organized around hand signals: thumbs up, thumbs down, thumbs sideways for indifferent. A little fluttering wave in place of applause. There's also some irony in realizing many of the people working hardest to maintain order in this manner probably weren't exactly kids who colored in the lines. Yes it can be a little awkward. People who are used to plowing ahead and getting things done might feel a little impatient with a process that waits its turn. What is happening here and everywhere is something entirely new. This is not the way we usually run things. There is no board of directors, no Robert's Rules of Order. We are literally re-creating democracy from the sidewalks of nearly every city in this country. Everyone is welcome. Everyone is equal. And everyone has a chance to say what is on their minds.

I've always been a little in awe of what the founders of this country put together. That they created this amazing system with so many checks and balances and seemed to think of practically everything all of those years ago. And over the past few years I have thought, well no they didn't think of this: the greed, the inequality, the fact that even justice can be paid for or lost if you can't afford its price. But then a sign at Monday's rally showed that yes, yes they did foresee even the place we are at now.

“The end of democracy and the defeat of the American Revolution will occur when government falls into the hands of lending institutions and moneyed incorporations.”
― Thomas Jefferson

And so now it is up to us to put something in place that works again.

On Monday someone asked me why I was there. We all have specific reasons, although the media is making a bigger deal over those differences than we are. I replied "All of it. None of it is working anymore."

No matter what your personal motivation is I about bet that somewhere behind it is money. It is wrong to throw 100 year old women out of their homes so these houses can sit empty until they fall to the ground, when we all know that eventually those banks will profit from those homes. It is wrong to continue to destroy this planet because what's needed to be done to save it can't be bought or sold. It's wrong that a country that has been built by a strong labor movement is now dismantling the rights we have worked decades to achieve. It is wrong that our politicians no longer actually represent us but rather are paid for because of the costs of running for election. And because of their own personal lust for power. It is wrong that families have to put together fundraisers for medical care to save a child's life while insurance companies bring in piles of profits. It is wrong that the quality of education a child gets depends on the neighborhood they happen to live in. It is wrong that the same young adults who were told all their lives they had to attend college to make something of their lives now have nothing to show for that work except for loans they cannot pay. The list is nearly endless.

And don't tell me there isn't money. There is money. Every time a bank or corporation needs bailed out. Every time we have to fight a war. There's money for billionaires to buy presidential candidates and money for lobbyists to shove through laws that someone is willing to pay for too.

This isn't about socialism. I don't want the same as everyone else. I don't care if you're rich and I'm not. What I care about is everything in our lives that is now being bought and sold by a very few. Isn't there a saturation point when you can no longer possibly need so much money?! This is about what is fair. And it is about what will happen in each and every one of our lives over the next few years and forever

It's a small crowd in Toledo but every time I have been there, there have been a few new people. People who have come down because they have something to add and want to be heard. People of all ages and backgrounds and walks of life. People who show up knowing no one but come to say something no one else wants to hear. There is something happening now that resonates with all of them.

I don't have the answers. I don't think any one person does. I don't know where this leads. I do believe though that together we can work this out and I have to believe that we will.

But here's another fact. We cannot change society via facebook. It is a tool, yes, and certainly the internet is why this has spread so rapidly but it has also lead us to believe we are actively involved in something because we see it on our monitors every day. My concern about the success or failure of what is happening now isn't the weather. I am sure that public officials in most places believe this will fall apart on its own when it gets even colder or starts to snow. I believe we will work around that somehow, even if the actual structure changes in some way.

What will do us in is our collectively short attention span. We care about this until that comes along and the focus shifts. And NOTHING ever actually changes. So what have you done? It's not about a hierarchy of dedication. I believe the people who are actually occupying the camps, especially in this weather, are the true heroes but it is up to all of us, too. Do something to let them know you support this movement. Show up with a hot cooked meal or some cookies and hot chocolate. Stay for a General Assembly. Sign up for a work group or to teach something you know. Offer to do a load of laundry or clean up the camps. Donate some cash. Or some winter camping gear. Make phone calls and write letters in support of what your group is doing or to demand they be treated fairly. Use your imagination and think of one thing you can do to help. Most importantly JUST SHOW UP. The Occupations wherever you are need YOU too. I know you care. I know we all do. This is way too important to the future of our country, of the world, to leave it up to someone else.

dinner with James Baldwin

"The children, very soon, did not need me at all, except as a benign adult presence. They began talking to one another. They were talking of their desire to know one another. Each was trying to enter into the experience of the other. The exchanges were sharp and remarkably candid, but never fogged by an unadmitted fear of hostility. They were trying to become whole." -James Baldwin, about teaching at BGSU, as quoted by Dr. Ernest Champion

In fall of 1979, we lived in a pumpkin-colored house on S. Church St in Bowling Green, OH. The color was a misunderstanding of what "autumn gold" would turn out to be, from when my roommates painted the house that summer. I can't recall exactly but assume the dinner was Ted's idea. I just shake my head now in wry amusement. A bunch of white, middle class 20 and 21 year olds from northwest Ohio inviting James Baldwin over for dinner.

Baldwin had originally taught at BGSU the previous spring, for a course through the new Ethnic Studies department about his own books. I believe now Ted pushed me to take the course when he first heard about it, not sure why I didn't, but once Baldwin arrived halfway through, he was unrelenting: "You HAVE to come to this class!!!" I had a Personality Theory class at the same time but cut my class and went along with him anyhow. Once I did, I never went back to learn more about Freud.

It's representative of my early college years that I walked away without a backward glance. College: The Early Years were oftentimes much more about life than learning. I started and stopped more times than I can remember now, registered for entire quarters and didn't go, went to some classes a few times and dropped out. A nice spring day, a random comment from a professor, a new romance. Anything could sidetrack me then. When I finally went back in the 90s as a serious student, I was surprised to find I had managed credit for that personality class after all, with a C. I vaguely remember running in to take the multiple choice final, so assume rushing through and checking psychologists' names at random must have worked out better than I'd thought.

Baldwin's class was in one of the big round lecture rooms. (I want to say 220 Math-Science but can't believe my memory can accurately pull up that bit of information.) I do know we divided ourselves up on either side of the room by race, and that's what we talked about, sometimes angrily, tripping over each others' stories, both sides doing exactly what Baldwin remembers: trying to explain and understand. We talked about South Africa and America and our own lives. I remember some of the faces still, and Baldwin at the front of the class, always pushing us to question, to learn more.

I grew up in a small town in Ohio. I literally knew no one at all who was black until I went to college. The one thing I credit my mother for more than anything else in my life is she taught me early and often that "everyone is the same inside, no matter what color their skin." She'd left that town as a young adult and lived in NYC and she knew when she took us back as young children, those weren't lessons we'd learn on our own. During Baldwin's first class, it occurred to me that I wasn't alone in my isolation. In many cases, both sides of the room were learning about the other for the first time.

I don't know if Ted started his friendship with Jimmy that quarter or not. It's easy to assume he stayed after class, continuing whatever discussion had started earlier, easy to imagine him walking along afterwards, still expounding on whatever thoughts he'd been in the middle of. Baldwin came back as a visiting professor the following fall and we all signed up for his class. He chose our reading list: Things Fall Apart, Heart of Darkness, Native Son. Somewhere along the line, we invited him over for dinner.

The preparations took all day. I remember part of our menu. I made stir-fried vegetables. Ted made shish kabob and homemade cinnamon rolls. I think Susan baked bread. Jeff was missing in action throughout the day, and rushed in shortly before dinner with his contribution: a bottle of scotch. When we complained about his late entrance, he said it didn't matter. He had Glenlivet! Eventually everything was ready and our guests arrived. We believed we were just having dinner with James Baldwin but 3 or 4 people from the university came too, real grown-ups. I can't begin to imagine how they decided to come along or what talk there might have been at the fact he was joining us at all.

I still laugh to myself even after all these years at how our dinner turned out. Ted pushing his platter of shish kabobs on everyone. The nicely dressed woman from the university across from me, looking uncomfortable. Dr. Champion next to her, enjoying our food and having a good time. Jimmy and Jeff side by side on one end on the table, sharing the scotch. Much to Ted's dismay, Baldwin barely ate anything, although I'm still pleased to say he did sample my vegetables. As it turned out, Jeff's bottle of scotch trumped all the food we'd made. I assume the rest of us drank wine as they got drunker and Jeff got louder and louder, the rest of us drowned out and either watching the two of them or our plates. I have no idea now what they were arguing about but even then I realized this was a complete disaster socially and absolutely wonderful just the same.

I am uncertain whether or not to tell what happened next. Perhaps this part of the story is too titillating to share but I think it counts for something as well. I believe the others left shortly after dinner, but Jimmy and my friends moved into the living room, still drinking and talking. I missed the actual exchange but came back to find he had propositioned my roommate. To me at that time it was a non-issue. So what? Ted was a beautiful man, and Baldwin was gay. Of course now I realize my lack of interest in the whole drama had something to do with gender. For a 20 year old woman, being hit on was something that could happen anytime. For Ted, it was an enormous deal. For Baldwin? I can't begin to know his motivation. I don't believe he expected to get a yes. Perhaps it was just the drinking and the adoration and a spur of the moment "why not try?" but I wonder if maybe it wasn't a small reminder of who he really was. I'm not the wise dad you wish you had. I'm a gay man and if we're to become friends, you need to face that. They must have worked it out somehow because they all did remain friends until he died.

I have to be clear here. Jimmy wasn't my friend. In those days I was quieter, taking it all in, outshone perhaps by the flash of Jeff and Ted, the little sister tagging along. Another time, Jeff decided we would drop by Jimmy's apartment. It was probably midnight and we'd been drinking. I was skeptical but he brashly insisted it would be fine, and it was. We sat around the dining room table in that standard Bowling Green rental and finished a 6 pack of Heineken. That night he talked to me. I can remember his face and his eyes and I know he talked about love. I wish I could remember his words.

Out of everything from then, the one thing he said that I recall the most clearly is that what was most challenging about teaching us was how to answer the "question behind the question," that he had to find the exact words to answer what we said with our words and what we were asking with our eyes. It was a strange concept to me then. How can you answer questions people weren't even asking? Now of course I understand the eyes really do reflect our soul, and I appreciate the concern he took with all of us to find the right answers.

I remember him as always unrelentingly kind and patient, and yet even then I knew that for all his fame and recognition, for all the people who loved James Baldwin the writer, he was still a lonely man who drank too much. I cringe now a little at my own youthful naivety. Did I expect exuberant happiness from a gay black man who'd lived during those times? Still I wonder now if being face to face with the reality of fame didn't shape my own choices to some degree, to live with little concern about external "success" and work instead on who I am.

Baldwin called us "children" and I can imagine our outrage at the time to be thought of in those terms, but we were still kids, weren't we? Children whose childhood had been steeped in the changes of the 60s and 70s. We were passionate and dramatically confident, barely aware of the gathering mists of our individual issues and insanities. We watched everything that went on in the world and we were certain we would change it.

I love us all then, those I've remained friends with for more than 30 years and those I knew only briefly. We crammed more life into those few years than I have managed in many of my decades since. We're all nearly the same age as Baldwin was then and I can see now how delightful we must have been to him. I understand that part of growing gracefully into these years is being able to enjoy seeing our children live through the things we remember, and to believe the torch will be passed on. And the world did change, didn't it? For all we find wrong with it still today, in many ways it's a world he wouldn't recognize.

I may have fallen short at times but I'd like to believe that most of my life I've spoken out about right and wrong, continued to think and care. I'd like to believe he'd like me now still, be proud in a way of the person I've been and become. If I could tell him one more thing, I would say thanks. Thank you, Mr. Baldwin, for everything.