Sunday, August 28, 2016

Life Is Hard

I have lost the capacity for walking easily and what that means when I travel is wheelchairs at the airport.  It makes a lot of sense particularly at a place like Atlanta which is huge, has underground shuttle systems and on the departure level the corridors are thronged with people moving urgently with their luggage and not for a minute walking politely on the left or on the right.  I never thought I would come to this, but there is a lot I didn't foresee which is now part of my everyday life.  One of the positives of the new me is the great group of people I have met, if only superficially, who push the wheelchairs.  It is hard work, a thankless task, and they almost invariably are caring people, quick to be sure their client has a chance to use a restroom and pointing out good places to grab a sandwich within the terminal.  I couldn't figure out a tip system, and sort of worked out that given the horrible wages that unskilled labor can expect, I give a five dollar bill for each segment from gate to gate on my trip.  They always seem surprised and grateful and I am happy to do this.  The disparity of our situations is mind boggling, as I perceive it.  In keeping with this perception, I have also decided to tip thirty percent as a minimum in a restaurant; my son who is in the restaurant business says thirty five when I am dining with non drinkers who bring the bill of the table way down.  I wish there were some systematic way to get money for lunch into the lives of the legion of famished youngsters in this country who have no food at home and no school lunches over the summer.  And why can't the USA fund some kind of housing for the homeless?  Yes, there will always be moochers and losers out there, but there are millions of abandoned mothers, children, shell shocked vets, damaged persons trying to deal with a drug  problem, and they all need help.  I was about to say legitimate, but, hey, the moochers do, too.  Living on the dole is a desperate measure, and as a Christian, even if I do not believe in the literal truth of the Christian story,  I know that redemption for one and all comes through charity (the word means "love," by the way, for those whose knowledge of Greek is shaky).  Not from developers building more tower condos in downtown Sarasota where I live and despair of the city's future.  Last Thanksgiving I was seated next to a property developer at dinner; I almost choked, although as someone born to privilege I guess I have no right to take a position--pampered whore from birth, as many would note.

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