After my third trip to the public assistance office to try and get food stamps, I have a few things to say.
1. An insanely frustrating process. Applying for and keeping up with the requirements of public assistance programs is really difficult. For the food stamp applications, you must first visit a public assistance office in person to set up an appointment to come in for an interview. Then you have to come in and have your interview (a process which including wait time took me about three and a half hours). In order to proceed with your application you need multiple forms of ID and proof of citizenship and residence. You need copies of your lease, bills and pay stubs. Then if you're like me and you don't hear back in 30 days, there is a problem which means you have to return to the office a third time (for 2.5 hours) because all the phone numbers and websites they provide are totally useless. The number of hours that is required to access these programs is out of control. How is anyone supposed to get/hold a job or be at all productive if they have to spend all their time at the public assistance office?
2. Efficiency vs. cost savings. Today at the the public assistance office, I was given a number as I walked in and told to sit in a waiting room with about 40 other people. Numbers flash on a big digital screen telling you which counter to go to when it's your turn. CNN is playing on three flat screen TVs and babies are crying. There are 9 different windows equipped with computers and one would hope, knowledgeable staff members. And today, at 4:30 when I arrived, there were TWO people working to help people with their issues. TWO people! In an hour and a half they had gotten through maybe 15 of the 40 people waiting to be seen. And people were still coming in. Now, I understand that in order to hire more people to work at the office, funding must be cut from somewhere and I'm sure it would end up coming out of funds which are supposed to support the people who need public assistance. But maybe we could do away with the flat screen TVs and hire an extra person.
3. The public assistance office is not "post-racial." In the two and a half hours that I was waiting to be seen, I was literally the only white person in the waiting room. I am aware that that the problems of poverty in this country affect minorities, particularly blacks and Latinos, at strikingly higher rates than they do white America. But looking around me today, this fact was made painfully obvious.
4. Hunched, freezing and worn out. Looking around the room, I was struck by everyone's appearance. Most people had on layers and big coats, some people were coatless. I can't imagine having to sleep on the street on a cold night like tonight. No one looked particularly clean, some people smelled. How demoralizing and un-dignifying must it be to not be able to shower? Everyone looked tired--hunched over in the really uncomfortable seats, many with big bags sitting at their feet. These people are exhausted. And these are the pro-active people.
5. This is a bad system. I don't know how to fix them, but many public assistance programs are terribly flawed. With food stamps for example, you have to be in seriously bad shape to get them. The official requirements for a single adult are that your net monthly income is $867 (Medicaid only allows $745). If you were working 40 hour weeks, that's about $5.50 an hour, which is nothing. Also, you can't have more than $2,000 in savings ($1300 for Medicaid). This might seem like a lot but let's say your income meets the requirements and you're making $600 a month working part time. If you're living in an apartment, most if not all of that check is going to rent. Then there is heat, electricity, transportation costs, clothes and food to pay for. You'll probably go through the $2000 rather quickly. With such low thresholds, this system doesn't encourage anyone to get a higher paying job. Medicaid is the same way. Income and savings thresholds are so low that you'd lose your health insurance if you took any entry level position, most of which do not offer health care benefits.
Okay, that's all for now. I'm sure I'll be returning to some of these things in future posts.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Little Things
I went to the library after work today to pick up a copy of On The Road which was supposed to be waiting there for me. When I went to look for it on the shelf in the reservation room it wasn't there. I wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes wondering if I was just an idiot and didn't understand the shelving system and then, after convincing myself that I was indeed looking in the right place, went to go talk with a librarian. She looked up my record and it didn't show any books being held for me or the 4 books that I currently have checked out. She sent me to go talk with one of the supervisors. As I was waiting I was getting more and more frustrated. I just wanted to pick up my book and head home. It had been a long day and to top it off, if my record was blank then my request for The Lost Continent, which I've been waiting for for months, would also be gone and I'd move to the end of the line (this seemed like a really huge deal at the time). By the time I got to see the supervisor, I was ready to be angry.
Turns out though, this supervisor librarian was one of the nicest, most accommodating people ever. Turns out I apparently had two library card numbers and all of my records were on the other number (I still have no idea how this happened). Anyway, it was a really annoying problem and it required this librarian to do a lot for me. I'm sure she'd had a really long day too and the library was packed but she just smiled and solved all my problems. She transferred all my books to the right account. She found On The Road and checked it out for me so I wouldn't have to stand in line again and she renewed all my books, including the overdue ones without charging me! It could have been a really frustrating experience but it turned out splendidly and for some reason this really nice librarian totally made my day. And to top it off, it was dark out when I left the library and the city was all lit up. It's finally gotten cold up here (which I love) and my walk to the train from the library in the night time chilly city streets was perfect.
Turns out though, this supervisor librarian was one of the nicest, most accommodating people ever. Turns out I apparently had two library card numbers and all of my records were on the other number (I still have no idea how this happened). Anyway, it was a really annoying problem and it required this librarian to do a lot for me. I'm sure she'd had a really long day too and the library was packed but she just smiled and solved all my problems. She transferred all my books to the right account. She found On The Road and checked it out for me so I wouldn't have to stand in line again and she renewed all my books, including the overdue ones without charging me! It could have been a really frustrating experience but it turned out splendidly and for some reason this really nice librarian totally made my day. And to top it off, it was dark out when I left the library and the city was all lit up. It's finally gotten cold up here (which I love) and my walk to the train from the library in the night time chilly city streets was perfect.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Separate But Equal? Or Just, Unequal?
I spent the last week and a half very excited about Obama's win. Prior to the election I had worried that I would run out of things to read, but with undecided senate races, Obama's transition team, and the on going shenanigans of the lamest of lame duck presidents, it's been easy to keep myself busy.
As exciting as Obama's win was and continues to be, with the successful passage of proposition eight in California banning gay marriage and two other similar state constitution measures in Arizona and Florida (not to mention the adoption limitations passed in Arkansas), the country has taken a distressing step backwards. With much of the post election talk focusing on the positive implications Obama's election has for the status/future of racial equality in our country, it is hard not to be floored by the juxtaposition of this historic moment with the giant movement away from equality for homosexuals that this election has given us.
In discussing this with various people I have heard reactions which mirror mine in terms of puzzlement and outrage. How can this have happened? It is actually shocking to me that such right-removing laws were passed at all, let alone passed this year, in 2008. With a few exceptions, most people my age who I've talked to feel the same way. Jason has an excellent take on it which you should read here. However, I've talked to other people who, although they don't agree with these laws, aren't nearly as concerned or upset about them having been passed. Someone I work closely with and with whom I've had very interesting and at times fun political discussions, is one of the people I know who feels that these laws being passed is not a big deal. As MC put it to me, gay people can still get married in other states, civil unions are still an option, and after all, in each state where these laws were passed, the majority made the decision and since we live in a democracy, the homosexual minority will just have to deal with it.
So many people have been writing, speaking and protesting about how ridiculous these arguments are and I'd just like to add my two cents. To respond to the "America is a democracy" argument--yes and no. Although we do live in a country where the majority votes to make decisions about the direction of our nation, we also live under a constitution which is in place to protect the rights of everyone living here. And as Dan Savage put it very eloquently in an interview on CNN, "the constitution exists to protect the rights vulnerable minorities against the tyranny of the majority." And in response to the notion that civil unions and out of state marriages can make up for the removal of homosexual couple's rights to marriage in their own states, the words of the 1954 decision in Brown v. Board seem to scream out at me. Separate but equal is inherently unequal. And passing a law which runs entirely counter to this notion is no trivial matter.
We've moved backwards at a time when it seems that we had come so close to moving beyond ignorance, hatred and fear. One can only hope that this leads to a strong push back from those fighting for their rights and from everyone who sees how ugly these laws are.
As exciting as Obama's win was and continues to be, with the successful passage of proposition eight in California banning gay marriage and two other similar state constitution measures in Arizona and Florida (not to mention the adoption limitations passed in Arkansas), the country has taken a distressing step backwards. With much of the post election talk focusing on the positive implications Obama's election has for the status/future of racial equality in our country, it is hard not to be floored by the juxtaposition of this historic moment with the giant movement away from equality for homosexuals that this election has given us.
In discussing this with various people I have heard reactions which mirror mine in terms of puzzlement and outrage. How can this have happened? It is actually shocking to me that such right-removing laws were passed at all, let alone passed this year, in 2008. With a few exceptions, most people my age who I've talked to feel the same way. Jason has an excellent take on it which you should read here. However, I've talked to other people who, although they don't agree with these laws, aren't nearly as concerned or upset about them having been passed. Someone I work closely with and with whom I've had very interesting and at times fun political discussions, is one of the people I know who feels that these laws being passed is not a big deal. As MC put it to me, gay people can still get married in other states, civil unions are still an option, and after all, in each state where these laws were passed, the majority made the decision and since we live in a democracy, the homosexual minority will just have to deal with it.
So many people have been writing, speaking and protesting about how ridiculous these arguments are and I'd just like to add my two cents. To respond to the "America is a democracy" argument--yes and no. Although we do live in a country where the majority votes to make decisions about the direction of our nation, we also live under a constitution which is in place to protect the rights of everyone living here. And as Dan Savage put it very eloquently in an interview on CNN, "the constitution exists to protect the rights vulnerable minorities against the tyranny of the majority." And in response to the notion that civil unions and out of state marriages can make up for the removal of homosexual couple's rights to marriage in their own states, the words of the 1954 decision in Brown v. Board seem to scream out at me. Separate but equal is inherently unequal. And passing a law which runs entirely counter to this notion is no trivial matter.
We've moved backwards at a time when it seems that we had come so close to moving beyond ignorance, hatred and fear. One can only hope that this leads to a strong push back from those fighting for their rights and from everyone who sees how ugly these laws are.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
The Sound of Me
One of the things that I love about my life in New York City, is that my (sometimes very) long commute to work on the subway gives me a lot of time to read. I've got a stack of NYPL books next to my bed that I'm working steadily through and I'm actually reading the New Yorker cover to cover almost every week. In this past week's New Yorker, there was a poem by Jack Gilbert--a poet who writes simple but often astounding poetry and who I was turned on to by a very close friend. I was reading the poem on the train, and at first I wasn't impressed. But once I got to the 10th line, then finished the poem, and then re-read it, I was stuck by how wonderful it actually is. It's short so here it is:
Summer at Blue Creek, North Carolina
by Jack Gilbert
There was no water at my grandfather's
when I was a kid and would go for it
with two zinc buckets. Down the path,
past the cow by the foundation where
the fine people's house was before
they arranged to have it burned down.
To the neighbor's cool well. Would
come back with pails too heavy,
so my mouth pulled out of shape.
I see myself, but from the outside.
I keep trying to feel who I was,
and cannot. Hear clearly the sound
the bucket made hitting the sides
of the stone well going down,
but never the sound of me.
The thoughts that this poem ends with really resonated with me and once I had re-read the poem, I realized how well the whole thing works. In the initial reading of the first few lines I had been struck by how un-poetic they seem to be--so full of specifics, but lacking a feeling or emotion which gives a good poem it's power. But when combined with this idea at the end that when we look back at our lives it is the specifics we remember, the moments and the details or even general sensations, and not the way that we felt or thought in those moments, not the person we were at that time, then the whole poem came together.
The final lines of the poem came back to me the other night as I was sitting with Alex and Liz (who was up for a break from medschool and for what turned out to be a fantastic weekend) in a park along the water between the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges and looking at the NYC skyline all lit up. Living in New York this year, it is easy for me to make memories of the places that I visit and of the things that I do. Everything seems new and I have little doubt that some of the experiences--like spending the evening staring at the city--will be ones which I'll look back on in many years and remember fondly as representing my first year in New York. But I wonder if I too will eventually be unable to feel this person that I am today. Perhaps it is inevitable. And maybe there is even some beauty in the fact that as we grow older, although we always carry our experiences and memories, we leave behind previous versions of ourselves that can never exist again. But I guess I hope that when I look back at everything which will define this year--a new apartment, a new city, a new job, a new president, new friends, new distance from old friends, new distance from family, new goals, new plans--when I look back, if only to offer perspective and to help me understand whoever it is I become, I hope I can still hear myself as I am today.
Summer at Blue Creek, North Carolina
by Jack Gilbert
There was no water at my grandfather's
when I was a kid and would go for it
with two zinc buckets. Down the path,
past the cow by the foundation where
the fine people's house was before
they arranged to have it burned down.
To the neighbor's cool well. Would
come back with pails too heavy,
so my mouth pulled out of shape.
I see myself, but from the outside.
I keep trying to feel who I was,
and cannot. Hear clearly the sound
the bucket made hitting the sides
of the stone well going down,
but never the sound of me.
The thoughts that this poem ends with really resonated with me and once I had re-read the poem, I realized how well the whole thing works. In the initial reading of the first few lines I had been struck by how un-poetic they seem to be--so full of specifics, but lacking a feeling or emotion which gives a good poem it's power. But when combined with this idea at the end that when we look back at our lives it is the specifics we remember, the moments and the details or even general sensations, and not the way that we felt or thought in those moments, not the person we were at that time, then the whole poem came together.
The final lines of the poem came back to me the other night as I was sitting with Alex and Liz (who was up for a break from medschool and for what turned out to be a fantastic weekend) in a park along the water between the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges and looking at the NYC skyline all lit up. Living in New York this year, it is easy for me to make memories of the places that I visit and of the things that I do. Everything seems new and I have little doubt that some of the experiences--like spending the evening staring at the city--will be ones which I'll look back on in many years and remember fondly as representing my first year in New York. But I wonder if I too will eventually be unable to feel this person that I am today. Perhaps it is inevitable. And maybe there is even some beauty in the fact that as we grow older, although we always carry our experiences and memories, we leave behind previous versions of ourselves that can never exist again. But I guess I hope that when I look back at everything which will define this year--a new apartment, a new city, a new job, a new president, new friends, new distance from old friends, new distance from family, new goals, new plans--when I look back, if only to offer perspective and to help me understand whoever it is I become, I hope I can still hear myself as I am today.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
"This Is Our Moment"
I am not sure if I'm speechless or if I just have so much to say that my mind can't settle on on any singular idea. I'm leaning towards the latter and because I feel like I need to just get something down in this amazing moment, I'll write a bit now and will likely follow up with a more carefully thought out post.
Barack Obama has been elected president of the United States. It is an amazing time for so many reasons and for the first time in a long time, I am so proud to be a citizen of this country. I think I cried three times last night and chills were running up my spine even more frequently. A closer election might have been more exciting and may have had me on the edge of my seat, but the decisiveness of this election was more powerful than any hold-your-breath-til-the-last-vote-is-counted election. Sure there are questions that still need to be answered, some states which still haven't been decided. I've barely made a dent in the NYTimes I bought this morning and I've done very little blog reading since I've actually been busy at work, but I'm excited to read about voter turnout, close senate races, the shadiness of GA and all the odd ballots in Florida (split arrows?? seriously??). But what I'm really excited about is how resounding the call for Obama seems to have been. As he said last night, "Change has come."
There are a lot of things I want to write about (Obama's speech, race and the election, exit polls, a new electoral map, etc.), but in the interest of space and time at this moment, I just want to mention one thing that really struck me last night as I was letting the weight of this moment sink in. I was watching NBC (obviously) and Tom Brokaw made a very interesting observation (obviously). I'm paraphrasing: He was talking about how momentous and noteworthy the election of Obama is and will be. He made the point that as huge as this is for reshaping the race problem in this country, Obama's election likely marks the beginning of a movement which we cannot really begin to grasp. What Brokaw expects is that this election will mean a shift in the mentality of American citizens towards a strong desire to engage in politics. He talked about a renewal of the drive towards civil service and the hope he has that this election will bring to Washington people who want to work for their government and work for their country. I don't know why, but this observation really hit a chord for me.
I have said numerous times throughout this campaign that I have no idea what it is like to live in a country where I actually like the direction the government is moving, where I support our president and believe in the potential for our future. This is a huge deal and although I'm not looking for government work myself, the idea that so many people of my generation and of those older than us--people who have been so frustrated with politics for so long, might feel the desire to serve our nation, to work for our future and to get involved in the process of making real change happen, is an idea that gives me (and others) real hope. I want to live in a country that makes me proud and I want American patriotism to be something which doesn't make me and the rest of the world cringe. I think Brokaw is right, and all politics aside millions of people have been inspired by Obama to get involved for the first time and I can only hope that this signals the beginning of a shift that will, as Obama said, "renew this nation's promise."
Barack Obama has been elected president of the United States. It is an amazing time for so many reasons and for the first time in a long time, I am so proud to be a citizen of this country. I think I cried three times last night and chills were running up my spine even more frequently. A closer election might have been more exciting and may have had me on the edge of my seat, but the decisiveness of this election was more powerful than any hold-your-breath-til-the-last-vote-is-counted election. Sure there are questions that still need to be answered, some states which still haven't been decided. I've barely made a dent in the NYTimes I bought this morning and I've done very little blog reading since I've actually been busy at work, but I'm excited to read about voter turnout, close senate races, the shadiness of GA and all the odd ballots in Florida (split arrows?? seriously??). But what I'm really excited about is how resounding the call for Obama seems to have been. As he said last night, "Change has come."
There are a lot of things I want to write about (Obama's speech, race and the election, exit polls, a new electoral map, etc.), but in the interest of space and time at this moment, I just want to mention one thing that really struck me last night as I was letting the weight of this moment sink in. I was watching NBC (obviously) and Tom Brokaw made a very interesting observation (obviously). I'm paraphrasing: He was talking about how momentous and noteworthy the election of Obama is and will be. He made the point that as huge as this is for reshaping the race problem in this country, Obama's election likely marks the beginning of a movement which we cannot really begin to grasp. What Brokaw expects is that this election will mean a shift in the mentality of American citizens towards a strong desire to engage in politics. He talked about a renewal of the drive towards civil service and the hope he has that this election will bring to Washington people who want to work for their government and work for their country. I don't know why, but this observation really hit a chord for me.
I have said numerous times throughout this campaign that I have no idea what it is like to live in a country where I actually like the direction the government is moving, where I support our president and believe in the potential for our future. This is a huge deal and although I'm not looking for government work myself, the idea that so many people of my generation and of those older than us--people who have been so frustrated with politics for so long, might feel the desire to serve our nation, to work for our future and to get involved in the process of making real change happen, is an idea that gives me (and others) real hope. I want to live in a country that makes me proud and I want American patriotism to be something which doesn't make me and the rest of the world cringe. I think Brokaw is right, and all politics aside millions of people have been inspired by Obama to get involved for the first time and I can only hope that this signals the beginning of a shift that will, as Obama said, "renew this nation's promise."
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Lamenting My Absentee Vote
Well we made it. It's finally election day and I haven't totally lost my mind. There were more than a few moments during this campaign when I though my head might explode because of all of the coverage. 22 months is a LONG time to focus on anything, let alone something which changes every day and which seems always to be news worthy. With all the news papers and all the blogs and all the network and cable news, there has never been a moment when the coverage has let up. But it's been fun and finally, today we vote.
I hate to say it, but so far, today's been anti-climactic for me. I've been so focused for so long on so many things leading up to today that I'm surprised that today doesn't feel any different. It's election day!!! It should feel different, but so far it doesn't. Kind of like birthdays... But, I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that I voted two weeks ago by absentee ballot in Maryland. Not only is my vote not quite as important as some other people's (my roommate from Ohio's for example), but I also didn't get a chance to go stand in the lines, talk to other voters and participate in this revered process ( I also did not get a sticker).
When I visited my sister last weekend in architecture studio at UMD, she was working on a project to design a space which represents the American voter experience. When I first read her assignment (which I wish I could quote here), I laughed at it and explained that if someone asked me to do something so abstract I'd probably tear it up and refuse to do the assignment. But after seeing her project and looking at those of some of her classmates, I realized that the voting experience is really something exceptional. When else do we get together with the members of our communities to participate in something that is so much bigger than ourselves? I was struck by how many projects focused on the idea of many individuals coming together to all make one decision. I was struck too by the idea of the voter experience being one which is necessarily both public and private. Although it wasn't always the case, today, everyone's vote is secret. That moment alone in the voting booth you are given the chance to make a decision totally removed from any outside pressures. You are cut off from everything and everyone to weigh your own feelings and beliefs and make a decision all your own. At the same time, going to the polls means interacting with people from your community. You discuss the election, maybe express your views and at the very least, share in the excitement that surrounds every polling place.
People all across the country are getting to experience this--a lot for the first time, which is fantastic. It is very exciting and hopefully I get into the election day mood tonight watching all the returns with my senate race cheatsheet I made yesterday. Everyone's been saying it, but today is a historic day and I'm so glad I get to be a part of it however removed. I'm definitely going home for the inauguration (unless McCain pulls off a win somehow...) because the sense of excitement and the sense of this moment's weight in history is something I refuse to miss all together.
I hate to say it, but so far, today's been anti-climactic for me. I've been so focused for so long on so many things leading up to today that I'm surprised that today doesn't feel any different. It's election day!!! It should feel different, but so far it doesn't. Kind of like birthdays... But, I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that I voted two weeks ago by absentee ballot in Maryland. Not only is my vote not quite as important as some other people's (my roommate from Ohio's for example), but I also didn't get a chance to go stand in the lines, talk to other voters and participate in this revered process ( I also did not get a sticker).
When I visited my sister last weekend in architecture studio at UMD, she was working on a project to design a space which represents the American voter experience. When I first read her assignment (which I wish I could quote here), I laughed at it and explained that if someone asked me to do something so abstract I'd probably tear it up and refuse to do the assignment. But after seeing her project and looking at those of some of her classmates, I realized that the voting experience is really something exceptional. When else do we get together with the members of our communities to participate in something that is so much bigger than ourselves? I was struck by how many projects focused on the idea of many individuals coming together to all make one decision. I was struck too by the idea of the voter experience being one which is necessarily both public and private. Although it wasn't always the case, today, everyone's vote is secret. That moment alone in the voting booth you are given the chance to make a decision totally removed from any outside pressures. You are cut off from everything and everyone to weigh your own feelings and beliefs and make a decision all your own. At the same time, going to the polls means interacting with people from your community. You discuss the election, maybe express your views and at the very least, share in the excitement that surrounds every polling place.
People all across the country are getting to experience this--a lot for the first time, which is fantastic. It is very exciting and hopefully I get into the election day mood tonight watching all the returns with my senate race cheatsheet I made yesterday. Everyone's been saying it, but today is a historic day and I'm so glad I get to be a part of it however removed. I'm definitely going home for the inauguration (unless McCain pulls off a win somehow...) because the sense of excitement and the sense of this moment's weight in history is something I refuse to miss all together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)