­Somehow Mr. Rogers managed to make his way into my conversation this morning (it was a beautiful snowy day in the neighborhood) and I started thinking about my neighbors (I don’t just mean the people who live close to me, but also people I’ve known for many years, people I’ve just met, people I’ve not met yet, and anyone I might have left out). I was taking my youngest to school and she was remembering yesterday’s sermon she heard in church (I was in the nursery helping with conflict resolution at sermon time).

“He talked about sin.” she told me (imagine that!), and she was reevaluating her (frequently) bad attitude and need for change in relationships with others. A number of very deep thoughts (for a 14 year-old) surfaced in the course of the conversation, but it gradually morphed into me thinking about my relationships with others. Naturally, some of my favorite people came to mind (I have a lot of favorites). It might surprise you, though, to know that I haven’t always been very fond of Mr. Rogers himself. I first saw his show on TV when I was a teenager and, compared to the frenetic pace of Sesame Street, he seemed slow, pedantic and old. It wasn’t until I heard my sister Laura responding to his invitation to be a neighbor (“Yes!” she said excitedly, every time he sang “Would you be mine?”) that I realized how directly he spoke to the heart. Fred Rogers was a man who cared for his neighbor and spoke love and friendship to a world that needs a lot more of that kind of talk. Since that moment of truth, courtesy of Mr. Rogers and my little sister, I have looked differently at the faces I meet.

 On January 20, 1961, in his inaugural address, John F. Kennedy said (quite possibly thinking of his neighbor), “And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country.” If there was ever a time Americans ought to be looking out for their neighbors, that time is now. Among my circle of friends, I count many who are unemployed or whose income (for those who are self-employed) has decreased dramatically over the past several years - my own gross income has stayed about the same, but my net, what’s left over after business expenses and taxes, has been steadily shrinking. I’m running faster to stay in the same place. In the impending meltdown, there will be more loss, not less, more displacement of workers, more foreclosures, more bankruptcies, and a much greater opportunity for tyranny in the land of the free.
When JFK gave his now famous speech, he seemed to have a clearer vision of what the purpose of government is; the people working together to forward the common cause of protecting life, liberty and property. The goal is not to enrich an individual or class or group at the expense of the whole, but to manage those things that benefit everyone. Commerce, defense and public safety are among the legitimate functions of government. In many countries, however (and you should have no trouble thinking of examples), the government is composed of those who seem think it their right to live off the sweat of the common man, enriching themselves and their circle of friends and relatives at the expense of others. Even here, in the world’s best hope for freedom and justice, there are examples of this type of thinking (The City of St. Louis’ current problem with runaway pension expenses may be one).
What’s best for America is that no one is left out; that everyone has opportunities; that the weak and the poor are protected from the powerful and rich (and occasionally the other way around). It is important that we all participate as well as contribute, and imperative that we craft a model of action that is both responsible and sustainable – we must stop spending that which we do not have. So who will stop that?  How do we (the un-empowered masses) make that happen?We must stop spending that which we do not have. I implore you to ask yourself - what part can I play in making our country better, our state, our community?  

Join me. 314-504-6692

 

 

 

Monday nights I spend with a group of people at the very bottom of American society, when I oversee a homeless shelter in the basement of an inner-city church on St. Louis’ Delmar Boulevard. It’s not a restful experience, though the nights are usually quiet, and it takes a couple of naps on Tuesdays to allow me to recover. A typical night goes like this:
I arrive at the church at 6 pm, open the shelter office and greet my coworkers. There are usually two; an overnight volunteer and an evening volunteer who leaves at 9:30 or ten. We have a checklist to go over to help prepare for the women we serve (we refer to them as “guests”), reminding us to check the tissue in the toilet stalls, disinfect the showers, start a wash load of shelter linens, prepare decaffeinated coffee, and heat dinner for up to 16 guests and the three of us staff. During this first half hour, I also check phone messages and review the previous week in the logbook we keep. Last week, for instance, I discovered that one of the women got into an argument with the Saturday night team leader and was removed from the shelter by police escort (Yes, it happens on my night as well. My most notorious incident was over ten years ago when I stopped a fight by putting my head between the chair-flinging culprit and her intended victim. As soon as I quit seeing stars, I restrained the guilty party and called the police).
At 6:30, I go to the main entrance on Delmar and let our guests in (some of whom have been impatiently ringing the doorbell for the previous ten minutes). They are eager to be off the street, and though some of them complain about the shelter, the staff and the food, they are genuinely glad to be out of the cold (and it is warm here; at over 70 degrees, it is always at least 15 degrees warmer than I keep my own house). Once everyone is present and accounted for, new guests have been introduced to the rules and services, and the first loads of guests’ laundry are chugging in the washers, we serve dinner. The food is also supplied by volunteers (though occasionally they don’t show up and we have to dip into the emergency budget and order pizza), and for the most part it is tasty, nutritious and filling (though occasionally we’ll have the same thing – lasagna or chili, for instance – too many nights in one week and the guests will gripe). Last night we had comfort food - pork tenderloin, mashed potatoes, marinated vegetable salad, jello salad and yellow cake with chocolate frosting (yum!). After dinner, we packed up what was left of the pork with slices of bread and added oranges, apples and homemade cookies for bag lunches for the ladies to take today.
The rest of the evening is spent turning down the lights, settling disputes, counseling, consoling, fetching necessities from the storeroom and getting the laundry room emptied of its now clean garments. At 10:30, the lights go out and the difficult task of sleep is at hand.
It's an intimate connection to others, working in a homeless shelter.  From my berth in the office, I hear every cough, toss, turn, and shuffling trip to the toilet, all night long. I lie on a narrow cot and think about the needs and personalities of the women under my charge. They come from all sorts of places but have wound up here at the bottom of society’s heap. They are on the streets, dependent on others for their daily bread. I like these women, though, even when they frustrate and aggravate me. I wonder what will become of them. I think of those from past years whom I no longer see here. Are they dead or moved to another city? A homeless shelter is frequently the last stop before the grave.
By the time my alarm goes off at 4:58 the following morning, I’ve already asked several of the women to quit smoking (not allowed between 10:30pm and 5am) please not rustle their belonging bags, and don’t turn the light on again, please. Breakfast cereals and bag lunches are put out and real coffee provided to get the day started. I count out two bus tickets for each of the guests (a major part of our budget) and get the checklist ready. Then it’s out into the cold again, as our guests return to the streets. Six o’clock is here and the shelter is closed until the next night’s crew arrives.

The status quo is in trouble in America today. On Tuesday the 19th, just yesterday, voters in Massachusetts elected a Republican to fill the senate seat formerly occupied by Edward Kennedy, the "Liberal Lion", and you already know the rest of the story. Today there are recriminations flying with Democratic operatives blaming each other for the party's poor showing, rather than looking at the real cause: the pushing of pet programs that are ill-considered, costly and against the wishes of the American People. 
There is a lesson to be learned if Missouri's Democrats are paying attention; it could happen here. The current representative (Russ Carnahan) for the 3rd Congressional district is little more than a puppet on a string for the national party bosses. He seems to be afraid to engage his own constituents. And he's not much of a speaker. I drove down to Festus last year to hear him give his State of the District address and all he had to say for himself was that he had helped pass the Lily Ledbetter act (a fair pay law that affects very few workers) and had been allowed to cosponsor a bill.
Mr. Carnahan's real accomplishment, the No Banker Left Behind Act (officially known as TARP) he did not mention. But it was his defense of funding for the bad boy bankers that got a lot of voters attention. Mr Carnahan's parroting of the assertion that they were "too big to fail" seemed to most of us like a slap in the face. It was as if he were saying, "You're too little to concern us."
I expected this kind of behavior from George Bush's people, but when a fellow democrat spits on me, I think it's time for a new representative.

In my work with the down and out (every winter I staff a homeless shelter one night a week) I see some of the many people in our area that are in need of the basics of life - food, clothing and shelter. A stumbling block for many of them, when they are finally able to stabilize themselves and find work and housing, is past utility bills. It is very easy for them, when the weather gets cold, to wind up with electric and gas bills they cannot pay. The Cap and Trade energy bill that the Mr. Carnahan helped pass in the House (it seems to be currently stalled in the Senate), will cause these bills to soar, increasing hardship not only to the poor, but to the middle class as well (the middle class will pay a disproportionate part because our price includes what the poor aren't able to pay). And we haven't even gotten to the health care mess. All of this insensitivity on the part of the Democratic incumbent plays right into the hands of the Republican challenger (who is hardly a friend of the poor and working class). If the Democrats of the 3rd district don't choose a new candidate in the August primary, the people of the 3rd district will.
August 3, 2010 - go to the poll and vote in a real representative of the people - Edward Crim