August 12, 2009--The Ladies of Forest Trace: "It's All Because He's Black"

“The ladies are saying that they don’t want socialized medicine. So I say to them, ‘You’re on Medicare, right? And you have no complaints, right? Well, maybe a few. And they say to me, ‘We like what we have and we don’t want him to take it away from us.’ It was my 101 year-old mother calling from Forest Trace, the Florida retirement community where she lives, “And so I say back to them, ‘Well, the joke’s on you—you already have socialized medicine! That’s what Medicare is. Socialized medicine. And by the way,’ I add, ‘President Obama--is not calling for socialized medicine. He wants to do things to save the system we have. Which is bankrupting the country. Largely because of us.’ They look at me like I’m crazy. Some of the girls are not all there, if you know what I mean. ‘I say us because all we do is go from doctor to doctor with trips to the emergency room and the MRI machine thrown in. All of this costs money. A lot of it. In the past,’ I say, ‘all of us would be dead already. How much did it cost young people who are paying taxes to get me to be 101?’

“They have no answer to that one,” my mother continued, “Especially since I’m, thank God, healthier than the rest of them put together. I’m not boasting. It’s true how lucky I’ve been. But just this week, and it’s only Wednesday, I’ve been to my cardiologist—who changed my blood pressure medicine—and my ENT who checked my ears and took the wax out of them, and to my podiatrist, who cut my toe nails, which I can’t do myself anymore. Do you know how much he gets for this from Medicare? For each toe? At least 15 dollars each. Times ten that’s how much? Too much, but that’s how it works.”

“I know, mom,” I finally got to say as she paused to catch her breath. She was all worked up about this. “They must be watching Fox news and listening to talk radio. They’re whipping the public into a frenzy. Scaring people by lying to them about what Obama is wanting to do.”

“Exactly. It’s all about fear. Old people are especially afraid. About their money. Their Social Security. And now their medical care. And, more than anything else, they are afraid of change. Any kind of change. Even if it’s for a good thing. Did you hear about what is happening with prescription drugs?”

“No, I haven’t. What?”

“You know all the medicines I take. For my blood pressure. The ones to help me with the anxiety I get in the morning. For my gall bladder. Thankfully nothing that serious. But I noticed that for the last few months the cost of my medicines has gone down. And by a lot. I asked my pharmacist why. ‘Are they on sale?’ I asked him. And he said, ‘No. It’s because Obama made an agreement with the drug companies to lower their prices and if they did he would not ask Congress to regulate them.’ Can you believe that?”

“I had heard something about that. In fact, I think some of the most liberal groups are criticizing him for agreeing to this. To them the drug companies are evil.”

“First of all we’ve had enough of this evil business with the last president. And now that Sarah from Alaska is saying that Obama’s healthcare plan is evil. That to pay for it they will have an Asia committee to decide who lives or dies in order to save money to give insurance to those who don’t have any.”

“That’s euthanasia, mom, and I did see that she said that in a Twitter message.”

“A what message?”

“Twitter. The social networking Internet site.”

“Look, I’m too old for these things. All I know is she said it. And we know what she really means.”

“Go on.”

“Which is the reason I called.”

“Yes?”

“You’re not rushing away are you?”

“Well, I do have something in a few minutes but I have time.”

“You’re always rushing somewhere. When do you get to rest? You’re not as young as you think any more.” She seemed to get considerable pleasure from reminding me of this during almost all of our calls. “What I mean is that people are starting to turn against him because he’s black.”

“I’m listening.”

“To tell you the truth I’m even hearing this from some of the girls. They are saying that he wants to take things away from white people to give them to ‘colored people.’” She sensed that I wanted to correct her but before I could she said, “Don’t correct me, I was just quoting them. That now that he’s in the White House—you should hear some of the sneering about that on the radio, that maybe he wants to paint it a different color—he’s showing his true colors. The pun is intended. He sold himself to us during the campaign as just a person. Not a black person. So as not to frighten anyone. But now he is doing all these things to give things to his people. That’s what I am hearing. Which is why they are questioning where he was born. Saying he’s an African, not a real American. Which really means that they are saying that he’s just a black man.”

“You could be right.”

“Well, I am.” I wasn’t going to try to disagree with that. Not that I wanted to. “And, I’m afraid that it’s worse than even that. Did you hear about this new book that says the White House is being swamped with letters that are calling him the worst names and threatening him and his beautiful family with harm? It’s being denied, but I am sure it must be true. If all of these crazy people are willing to be on television with pictures of Obama dressed up like Hitler you can only imagine what they are saying and doing privately.”

“I did hear about that book and it wouldn’t surprise me either if it was true.”

“But then there is something almost funny. You would call it something else—ironic—that I hope is happening.”

“I’ll tell you if you’re right about how I would describe it.”

“If they are this crazy because they woke up one morning with a black man as their president, one who is also half African, whose father was an Arab . . .”

“A Muslim.”

“Yes, that. And if they think that black people are lazy and not as intelligent as white people, which they do, can you imagine what they are already feeling after only six or seven months when they see how smart and hardworking he is?”

“That for sure is making some of them crazy.”

“But here’s the best part,” I could hear her chuckling to herself. “What would happen if he also turned out to be a good president?”

“You’re losing me here. I assume they might have to swallow hard and be forced to admit he turned out to be OK.”

“You see—that’s where you’re wrong. To them, and hopefully they are far from a majority, it’s all because he’s black. That’s all they’re able to see. But since it’s true—he is black--if he does well, if he succeeds with his agenda, if the economy gets better, and there are signs that it is--even that Paul whatever his name is in the Times who won the Nobel Prize is saying so and he is no fan of the Obama people—if he does a good job as president it will really make those who hate him meshuga.”

“Krugman, mom, Paul Krugman.”

“He’s Jewish, isn’t he?” I didn’t answer. “In any case, it will make these tea-bag people even madder if he becomes an effective president. If that happens, and I still think he will, how will they be able to hold onto their prejudices? Won’t this upset them even more?” She didn’t pause to allow me to agree with her. “They need their prejudices and some of their other beliefs to help them feel secure in a world that to them is so complicated and scary. To not feel afraid they need these kinds of easy answers.”

I broke into her chain of thought because I did have something to say and was feeling time pressure. I had an appointment. With my internist. I too am old enough to experience socialized medicine through Medicare. “I agree with everything you’re saying. But the good news is that it appears that there are fewer and fewer of these kinds of bigoted people. The media love them of course because viewers seem not to be able to get enough of seeing them on TV when they show up with their Hitler posters and scream and yell at members of Congress at those town hall meetings. And by putting them on the air over and over again, they make them seem like they are the majority. But they’re not. All the polls show that . . .”

“But,” she interrupted me again, “though you may be right about the TV, before we enjoy ourselves too much about how these people are getting all mixed up not knowing what to think about Obama—and how though they want to see him fail at everything he tries and they will continue to be the primary victims of the recession and the medical system we have—there is something else we have to worry about. It’s this: as I said, the better he does the worse it gets. That’s ironical, correct?”

“Yes, that would be ironic. But you need to say more because I don’t see what there is to worry about.”

“If that happens, won’t that make Obama even more vulnerable than he already is? And I don’t mean politically. I mean personally. Won’t this place him in even greater danger?”

“I understand what you’re saying and of course I hope not.”

“We’ve seen this before, haven’t we? With Martin Luther King and Kennedy. Both Kennedys. And now that poor sister died. The better they did, the more popular they became, the more people saw that they represented change, and the more some people felt threatened by it, who were afraid of change—like now—the more they hated them. Fear leads to hatred. And we know what happened.” I could hear her sigh. “I hope I don’t live to see that again. That’s one good thing about being so old.”

“Of course I hope so too. I mean,” I added quickly so as not to be misinterpreted, “about not wanting to see this happen to Obama. And though you may be right, you probably are right about how his being successful could make him even more hated by these people we’ve been talking about, it also means that he will be better protected.”

“But you know me. I’m a worrier. I always see the dark cloud when others see sunshine. I was born in a shtetl in Poland after all. More than a century ago. So how can I be an optimist?”

“Easy,” I said, “Look at all the good things that have been accomplished in the world. How . . .”

“I know, every time I get this way you make the list. To try to make me feel better.”

“But more than anything else, how can you be so pessimistic when all you have to do is look at your own remarkable life?”

And with that, without even a goodbye, she hung up. Which she does every time I say anything like this. This too, it seems to me, is ironic. How for her something positive can so often feel like bad news. But with her, almost everything is forgivable.