August 12, 2104--Midcoast: Peggy Pays a Visit

"Don't you find it frustrating to be living here among so many conservative people?" This from a visiting friend who is very progressive and politically-minded.

"Actually, I find it both challenging and interesting." Peggy looked at me skeptically. "Really, the challenging part is obvious. It's always difficult to converse with people with whom you have deep disagreements. But the interesting part is more important."

"Interesting?"

"Well, I learn new things if I can manage to keep my mouth shut and listen. And in spite of what you might think, not all conservatives are ill-informed or rigid. That is, no more rigid that you or I." I winked at her.

"But don't you find that when talking about, say, food stamps, you immediately run right smack into a brick wall--they're dead set against it while you'd like to expand it?"

"Maybe. Or at least that may be where we start--with them (usually a him) wanting to eliminate it while, you're right, I'd probably put more money into funding it."

"And so? That's it, right? Dead end?"

"Well, no."

"No what?"

"No, that doesn't always end the conversation." She continued to look at me out of the corner of her eye. "And that's half the point."

"What is?"

"That it's a conversation--at least we try to make it one. Not a shouting match or a series of pronouncements that go over each other's head."

"I'd believe that when I see it."

"You'll have to trust me." She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath. "But let me give you an example from last week. It just happened to be about food stamps. This friend, Willy, was going on and on about how he was at the checkout counter in Hanneford's and ahead of him was this guy who was paying with a SNAP card. Willy said, 'I know him. He lives in a $500,000 house and drives a BMW that must have cost at least $60,000. He shouldn't be getting food stamps.'

"I said, 'If that's true, I agree with you.'"

"'You do?'

"'Absolutely. I'm against anyone ripping off any government program, be it food stamps or Medicare.'

"Surprised at that, he said, 'But I thought all you liberals want to give everyone a free ride--food stamps, housing vouchers, disability, heating oil, the whole works.'

"I said, 'I don't know about others, but I'm pretty progressive and don't want to do any of that. I'd like to see more money in some of those programs, true, but I'd put in jail anyone who rips them off.'"

"You said that?" Peggy said, "You believe that?"

"Indeed I do. Shouldn't we liberals be the first ones to call for the end to waste and abuse in our favorite programs? If we believe in them and want to see them continued, we should be in the forefront of critiquing them and cleaning them up when they go off the rails and not let the conservatives have a field day, attacking them like Willy, based on a few bad examples. We should protect what we believe in by being extra vigilant and out front about problems."

"So that did the trick? You agreed with him about the guy with the BMW and now Willy's in favor of food stamps?" She was mocking me.

"Not exactly."

"What happened next?"

"I said, 'Let's try to narrow our differences.' Willy nodded, indicating he was OK with that. We had tried to do that before about other issues with occasional success. So I asked him how he feels about children not being properly fed. He said no child should go to bed hungry or to school without breakfast. I said that I agree with that but asked how we should make sure kids get food if their parents either can't afford it or are irresponsible.

"He at first didn't have an answer to that. Then he said, 'We have this Caring for Kids program here. Local people contribute money to it so students can have healthy snacks during the school year; and during the summer, when they can't get lunch in school, they provide it at no cost.'

"'That's a good example,' I conceded, 'of how people, not the government, can help those with needs. But,' I pressed, 'I know about the program, which is very good--I contribute to it--but it's reach is limited and they can't provide other meals to kids. Dinner, for example. Or during weekends. For that, I think, we have to have something like food stamps because the need is so great and only government can cover the costs. The whole program costs $75 billion a year.'

"He said, 'For that I'm all right with a government program. To make sure children are taken care of. It's not their fault if there isn't enough charitable money for that.'

"'I'll tell you what I'll do,' I offered, 'Neither one of us, of course, has a smart phone . . .' 'Another thing we agree about,' he said. 'Touché,' I said 'But let me check on the Internet later today to see how the food stamp money is distributed. How much of it goes to children. Than we'll see where things stand.' He reached across the table to shake my hand in agreement."

"So what did you discover?" Peggy asked.

"It took me just a few minutes to learn that there are about 22 million kids who receive food stamps and that this represents 48.7 percent of all food stamp recipients. Nearly half. More than I had thought."

"What happened next?"

"Well, Willy was waiting for me at the diner the next morning and without ado I told him what I learned."

"And what did he say when you told him this?"

"'I trust you and . . .' and then he got quiet.

"'And?' I probed.

"'And, so I suppose about this we're in 48.7 percent agreement.'

"'Let's work on the rest,' I said. 'Disabled elderly people, for example, get about 8 percent of the food stamp money. Are you OK with that?'

"He said he was. 'And about 19.8 percent are seriously disabled adults. He said he was OK with that too.

"'If I know my arithmetic,' I said, 'this means that maybe in regard to food stamps, we're in more than 75 percent agreement.'

"'76.5 percent,' he said with an exaggerated wink.

"So there you have it," I said to Peggy. "How up here we try to talk about even controversial things and at times manage to find some common ground."

I think Peggy was impressed. "I want to meet this Willy character," she said.

"Only if you promise to play nice."

"I'll think about it," she smiled.

June 4, 2014--NY, NY: Fish Story

We've had a series of beautiful days. It is as if the weather gods are compensating New York City for the harsh winter they imposed.

So we have been taking long walks. For the fresh air, the exercise, and to take note of all the changes that occurred during the four months we were lolling in Delray Beach.

"It's a shame," Rona said, as if already taking the clear air for granted, "how the banks and pharmacies and food places are pushing out the shoemakers and dry cleaners."

"And the mom-and-pop places," I joined in the familiar litany.

Living peripatetically as we do, these shifts in the neighbor are more dramatic than they would be if we were here all the time. It would feel more like a steady drip than a torrent of change.

"Why don't we try to enjoy things," Rona said, wanting us to move on from nostalgia for the old, more human scale New York. "For example, look at this little park. I don't think I ever noticed it before. It's just a sliver of a triangle, all grown over like a woodland landscape with what looks like a rambling path. Let's finish our ices and wander in."

We were at Sixth Avenue and Bleecker Street and had just stopped at Rocco's, an old-fashioned Italian bakery to get some of their delicious homemade ices. "Just like the old days in Brooklyn," Rona had said but then added, "Here I am, doing it again, living in the past. I find it so hard to move on and get comfortable with all the change and gentrification."

I put my arm around her and we ventured into the pocket park.

Though tiny, it was a transporting oasis from the throb of traffic on Sixth.

"I'll say one thing positive about all the new things."

"I'm looking foreword to hearing that," I smiled.

"During the past 20 years or so the city has done an amazing job of improving its parks. From Central and Prospect Park to Washington Square, Union Square, and now this one. It really is like an enchanted glade. Magical."

"And we have it all to ourselves. That's almost my favorite part."

Rona hugged me and I let my hand find her breast. "Stop that. There are other people here," she squirmed away from me but giggled with girlish pleasure.

After wandering further in the West Village we turned to home. Broadway, pleasantly, was a bit less crowded than when NYU is in session and also the street demographics are now shifted more toward our end, my end, of the actuarial scale, which meant that we didn't have to dodge the streams of college-age kids staring obliviously at their smart phones.

"Did you see that?" Rona whispered, pulling on my sleeve.

"What?"

"That women. The one pushing the walker."

"I see her," she has shuffled passed us as we stopped to look in a shop window, "But I don't know what you're pointing out."

"What she has in the basket."

"Maybe a cat, like I told you about seeing the other day when I went out for the paper? The woman who had her cat seat-belted in a kiddie stroller."

"No. Not her. Walk faster. You're not going to believe this one."

"Give me a hint. I don't want to race after her and scare her. She looks pretty fragile."

"She's stopped at the light. We can catch up without startling her. This you won't believe."

We got to her well before the light changed and I looked surreptitiously into the basket. Rona, excitedly, was poking me in the back. I brushed her hand away so I could get a closer look.

"I see what you mean," I said.

Rona, nodding, to shush me, poked me harder.

To the woman I said, "Are you taking him for a walk?" I was referring to the fish in the small bowl in her walker basket.

I expected to be glared at or at least ignored.

"Yes," she said, with a wide smile. "It's such a beautiful day I thought he'd enjoy being out."

"It is beautiful," I said, not knowing what to say. "He must . . ." I cut myself off, not believing I was talking about a fish that was being taken out for a walk.

"He's cooped up all day."

"I know what you mean. Just like the rest of us when . . ."

"I know you think I'm crazy," she said, looking directly at me.

I truly did not know how to respond because, yes, I did think . . .

"Maybe I am. At least a little bit." I was happy to see her smiling. It suggested enough self-awareness to assure me that she didn't require an intervention.

"You know when all this began?"

"This?"

"With the fish. He's a Beta."

"I can see that."

"After Herb died." I looked away. "Almost a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"We were together almost sixty years. I didn't know what to do with myself. I wanted to die. If I could find the courage, I wanted to end it. To kill myself."

"That's . . ."

"I know. Sad and desperate." She looked at me and I shrugged as empathetically as I could. "That's how I felt. As if life no longer had meaning." She shuddered. "But then a friend suggested I get a pet. How having a pet is good for people living on their own. It brings life into your life."

"I've heard that too," I said.

"But look at me. Am I able to walk a dog? Or bend down to empty a litter box?"

"I don't . . ."

"You can say it. It's the truth. I'm old and all crippled up. With my knees. I could also use a new hip. And I have back spasms from top to bottom. So . . ." She pointed at the fish bowl and this time she shrugged.

"So this . . . ?"

"Yes, this. I call him Herb. I know that's crazy but at this point I don't care, I don't care what anyone thinks."

"It makes sense to me," I managed to say. In fact, it did.

By then the light had turned green and she began painfully to cross the street.

"Nice talking to you," she said over her shoulder. "Have a nice day."

July 4, 2013--Protection of the Rights and Interests of Elderly People

On Monday, the Chinese government enacted a law that requires young people to tend to the "spiritual needs of the elderly." The Protection of the Rights and Interests of Elderly People statute.

Who would have thought that a country that so reveres the elderly would feel the need to pass such a law. Aren't the young already culturally oriented enough to do this without compulsion?

Apparently not.

In the law's fine print, children are required to go home "often" (this suggests that traditional families are breaking down with youth migrating to the coastal cities) and to occasionally "send them greetings" (I assume via the social media).

Unusually, the law does not proscribe any punishments or penalties if its injunctions are not followed. I suppose they will see how it works; and if children continue to ignore their parents and grandparents, who knows, maybe the young will be sent away to the countryside to be "reeducated."

Having said this, according to a report in the New York Times, parents feeling abandoned by their children have been suing them for "neglect," and winning!

Having just spent a week in South Florida, mainly among the elderly, it is clear that Florida even more than China needs this kind of legislation.

Over one dinner, for example, we heard about Sara, who lives in New York with her third husband and four children but "is so busy with her fancy friends and shopping that she never comes for a visit. And when she does, she can't wait to go home. She stays in a hotel on the beach--not with me--and can't wait to get back to the city after spending only two night in Florida."

Another dinner companion had nothing but complaints about her "good-for-nothing son."

"We scrimped and saved so Alfred could go to Cornell and then to medical school, but now what do we get in return? When I call I talk to his answering machine or when he finds a little time to work his mother into his busy schedule he puts me on the speaker phone. In the background I can hear him talking to one of his salesmen. He's not the son I raised."

When I told an 85-year-old, who had very little good to say about his grandchildren--"If they walked in the room now they wouldn't recognize me. That's how often they come to see me"--about the new law in China, even though he had spent the previous half hour complaining about Obamacare and all the money he is spending to "bring socialism to America," he very much approved of what the Chinese government had done to take care of their elderly.

"We could use some of that here," he said. "These young people have no values. All they care about is their friends, sleeping all day, and staring at their smarty phones."

When I said that the Chinese law is an example of the sort of big government he was just criticizing, telling people how to live what should be their private lives, he dismissed me with a wave. "Nothing's perfect," he said. "But I do like Chinese food."