What Has Happened to America?
It is not without cause that so many songwriters have immortalized California’s Ventura Highway, the 101, in verse. There is something about driving down the101 with the windows rolled down, and the music turned up a bit higher than normal, which defies words. The rushing wind, hot sunshine, smells and views of the ocean make me feel alive in an entirely different way from anything else. Everything is possible as you sing and yes somehow dance to everything from the Mama’s and Papa’s to the Beach Boys and Jackson Browne. Life is perfect again and the only thing that matters is that you stop long enough to take note of the pelicans flying in formation and the surfers catching the flawless waves which define California at her best; that is until the music stops and the announcer says that California is suffering from such a severe financial crisis that she will be closing scores of public parks – now that is a bummer.
Last month, we left home. I needed the road. I needed the other. I needed the unexplored horizon. Our trip came to an end when we ran out of road, and turning around was inevitable. Sadly real life has interfered with my life, and we must not linger, so be it. But the hours and miles spent traversing America have once again gifted me with unimaginable treasure. Indeed, after a life-time of crisscrossing this nation I am still awed and humbled by the largeness of this country. The endless vistas, from seashores, to mountain ranges, to painted deserts and open plains are unequaled; and by and large Americans have been benevolent guardians of the beauty entrusted to us.
There are almost 400 national parks in the United States, as well as thousands of state, county, and city parks, which have been set aside by us, to be preserved and available for us and for future generations. This is no small feat. We have decided to hire Park Rangers to watch over such diverse places as Yellow Stone and the Liberty Bell. We have determined that not only able body visitors should have access to Mount Rushmore or Carlsbad Caverns, but also those with special needs; and that such places should be affordable for everyone. Also, and perhaps arguably most importantly, we have established Visitor Centers at the Everglades and the Redwoods, which offer us rangers who helps us gain the most of our visit; as well as films, displays, maps, charts, brochures, gift shops and clean restrooms!
Traveling through America and stopping to visit such amazing places is a privilege, which among other things, helps to ease the burden of our tax bills. Seeing the wonder which we are custodians too is uplifting, and interacting with people who are passionate about preserving America is inspiring! Yet, for as much beauty as we have seen there is also a blight, upon America, which is heart breaking.
The bumpy roads first got our attention. Florida is not pocked with pot holes, something which we had failed to take note of, until we hit the open road and begun to feel jostled by uneven pavement, cracks and holes in the asphalt, and roads disfigured by patches. Our infrastructure, which has contributed to our growth and mobility, is sagging. We have noticed rusting bridges, bruised freeways, unkept highways, missing signs and broken lights. How did this happen? When did it happen? Is our internal infrastructure in as much trouble as the external infrastructure? What does it say about America? Instead of being slowed by “Road Work Ahead” and “Fines Double in Work Area” signs we are being slowed by badly worn roads. Part of what makes American great is that we were able to connect these two remarkable oceans, and the endless miles between New England and the Southwest. How is it that we cannot afford to maintain our byways?
In Detroit, we stopped to speak with a native daughter, who tried desperately to put a good spin on her hometown. She very much wanted us to overlook the miles of empty, abandoned, burnt-out, graffiti covered houses which seemed to ring the city. Having thought the first house was simply the remains of a house fire, I had stopped counting after the hundredth such house which forced us to take note of a city that appears to be bleeding to death. Driving through Detroit felt like a war zone. I asked why, what happened to this city with large and successful sporting franchises and with Ford and GM both bouncing back? There were no answers. The economy, the housing bust, the endless outsourcing and a feeling of hopelessness had all taken their toll she finally said soulfully. My heart broke for her and her city, my country.
In so many large and small cities alike we were also overwhelmed by the number of homeless people. Kate and I have been homeless, we had started our life together in a hotel, where I worked, which went bankrupt, we had then pitched a tent in my sister’s backyard, and then on the beach. Finally, we had moved onto a little boat, which belonged to Kate’s boss at the pizza place she worked. We well know how easy one becomes homeless, and while we lived in Long Beach, we had passed out countless Little Bags of Hope, to homeless people. Our sack lunches were simple, usually a sandwich (often made with Trader Joe’s almond butter, provided by Lia), a piece of fruit, a cookie, and of course Mother’s smiling Jesus track. In the years which we passed out our Little Bags of Hope, we had gone into the makeshift towns, which the homeless set up under the freeways in Long Beach, we had interacted with so many and gained a comfort and familiarity which made us unafraid and unfazed. But again, what we have seen in these past weeks has been overwhelming. I cannot remember ever seeing so many people sleeping on the street. In the 80’s President Regan was blamed for the homeless epidemic, but he is long gone. What has happened to America? Are Hooverville’s in our future?
What does our future hold? I have watched the news all over the country in this month away from home, and repeatedly the lead story is either the tragedy of the moment, which seem to be in endless supply, or our economy and the cuts which a lack of funds will demand. When we left Florida, one of the last news stories I saw was about teachers striking to save their jobs, avoid school closings, and protect the status quo. Repeatedly, the reporter asked the teachers how to pay for what they wanted, and not one could provide an answer. If America has run out of money and run up a debt which she cannot pay, what can we do? How do we get back on our feet? Where are we going to find answers?
These endless miles of America were fought for by fearless men and women who risked their very lives to head west – whether from England or New England. People set sail for new worlds, headed out in covered wagons, and in old jalopies looking for a new life, which they would create with their own two hands. Our forebearers only asked for the opportunity to birth their destiny, no one expected or asked for a free ride, even children, for better or worse, earned their keep. Where is that American spirit? Everyone wants the government, which is you and me, to pick-up the tab. Well, I do not have a problem with paying for my share. I will admit I resent Florida’s many toll roads, but not as much as I used to. I am okay with paying my property tax to keep the police, fire, and library people all working. I am even okay with paying twenty-five dollars in hotel tax, to spend a few nights in Pismo Beach, though I am only getting a borrowed view. But at some point, welfare has to be a safety net, not a way of life, as does Medicare and unemployment insurance. We seem to be pretty close to broke, and yet we are continuing to demand. America is in trouble, and something has to give. I wonder where our pioneer spirit is hiding?
It is not hard to sympathize with long term workers, in the public sector, who are suddenly being told that they must begin to make contributions to their own retirement, face higher insurance premiums, and in many cases a cut in wages. Teachers, firemen, police officers, county clerks, librarians, city workers . . . all of those who perform the tasks which keep our country running smoothly, have often accepted lower wages than those in the private sector, in exchange for solid benefits and retirement packages. I see nothing wrong with this trade off, as long as we could afford it. The shortfalls are real, and a drive through our nation makes it vividly clear.
I love America, and there is much of her wonder which will be shared on these pages; but at the moment, I am also worried about her. I do not believe that any political ideology can save us, and I think it is time for us to decide that America is worth saving, and that we are willing to roll up our sleeves and get the job done.
When America entered the first Gulf War, there were those who commented on the fact that the American civilian was disengaged with the war, and not being asked to participate in the vast cost of war – we were not buying war bonds, planting victory gardens, or scavenging for scrap metal. It was an interesting thought then, and a sounding alarm now. We are in an economic war and no government, party, or politician is going to solve what is wrong with America, but I do believe her citizens can save her.
I know it is a cliché, but I think we need to find a new way to offer each other a hand up instead of a hand out. Driving by dilapidated housing projects today, I wondered what those buildings might look like, if the tenants were in a rent to own program? What if those in public housing were given a chance to apply a portion of their rent toward the purchase of their home? Would ownership of an apartment lead to ownership of the building, block, and neighborhood?
The New York City Opera is five million dollars in debt, and may close. The heartache in America is wide spread; but if our forbearers built homes out of adobe and sod is there not something we can do today to save our country? What can we do to save America? This cannot be all for now.
Accompanying this piece, please take a look at the pictures from one town along the road, under “Public Square” which though shockingly sad, are actually quite representative of so much that we have seen.
