Musings on the day

It is the Fourth of July, the day America celebrates itself.  The day of declaring independence from the oppression of others without the consent and representation to at least share in the responsibility.  A community of communities banding together to support the rights, freedoms and future of all.  So let's get back to making it that again.

Today, families, neighborhoods, towns and cities gather, to parade, to explode fireworks, to barbeque and eat.  Much will be consumed, food, drink, fermented beverage.  Games will be played, children will laugh, adults will smile, and talk politics and sports.  Consumerism will drive on with all the dollars spent on all this languid celebration.

Meanwhile, those who have lost it all, the homeless, those on the streets scrabbling to survive, clinging to a fading hope in the system that failed them into this life, do not celebrate.  Not like the rest of the country.  Certainly there are small victories that rouse the spirit of celebration; finding a meal, avoiding the rain, a cool drink of water found in respite of the heat.

Around picnic tables and fires, on porches and in pavilions, stories will be shared.  Of times spent serving in the military, home and abroad, of times past, of families, of triumph, of the consumerist American spirit.  In the forgotten places in every city, town, and even some forests, the stories that one might hear are far different.  Of lives spent in solemn dedication to the "American dream", to working long hours, mortgaging a home, perhaps even twice, of raising children, listening to the 6 o'clock news, voting for the most promising politicians, and trying to save for a time when one can no longer work.  Stories about how all that fell apart in a few scant years of economic downturn and corporate downsizing.  How outsourcing has left entire departments, almost entire work forces unemployed, underemployed, and increasingly, homeless on the streets, in a society which would rather look the other way.

These stories deserve to be told, and to be heard, read, seen and burned into the consciousness of the rest of America as well.  The lessons of those experiences are perhaps infintely more important that what Miley Cyrus wore to the kids choice awards.  Stories and lessons of struggle, of life, of survival.  Of the truth of the American spirit, that people are not ready to give up on life, even if the system and the culture have given up on them.  The remains of the American Dream can be found in every trade of a bag of aluminum cans for enough change to buy a meal, split with a loyal dog, or a companion too broken to pick cans or walk to the soup kitchen themselves.

Think about that, in contrast to the fun and food you experienced today.  Think about what you can do to help, what you can give to bring these stories to light.  What can you give up for a day, a week, a month to help fund hope and smiles for these people?  Show this to everyone, you know and who you do not know, and ask them as well, what can you do to help?