Today I felt like I got punched in the gut as somebody at our daycare casually handed me a phone number and an information sheet for the Family Independence Agency.
Welfare.
On the sheet, an income amount for a family of four eligible for state assistance.
I felt my face blanch and my mouth go dry.
That's what we make.
I haven't called yet. The number is sitting on my kitchen table.
You know...
...this whole "state assistance" idea sure feels a lot different when you're eligible.
On one hand, when I start to feel embarrassed about calling, I start to feel like a snob. Here I am, this snooty person who thinks that it's shameful to consider asking for help. Like I'm too good for that. I don't want to be one of "those people."
And I don't FEEL like I'm "eligible." We live in a decent neighborhood. We have a house that fits us all comfortably. Our kids eat food every day, except for the food the one year old throws at me. We can walk down to the beach! We're just a quarter mile from it.
It feels like our level of comfort is, by historical standards, pretty cushy. I have my laptop in front of a fireplace that heats our house. It's a bit picturesque if you ignore the toys and apple cores everywhere.
I don't FEEL like I'm eligible for anything.
On the other hand...I kinda am a little embarrassed. Health care costs are eating us alive. I pause calling the doctor because I know it'll be another couple hundred dollars on the tab of thousands we already owe. Our one car...it's starting to make funny noises, but I'm trying to ignore it because there's nothing I can do about it right now. I don't trust it to take us outside of town. We heat with wood I harvest from neighbors and friends who have fallen trees. There's a smorgasbord every spring and fall. My shoes....let's just say they could use a little tender loving throwing away and replacing.
But that's just stuff. That's just how life is.
Right?
I mean...I tend to think so. Day to day.
Or I did until our daycare provider asked what we were doing for insurance and food and handed me this information.
It made me feel a little bit naked. Like maybe she could see something wasn't quite right, even though things from my perspective seem normal.
Does everybody see it?
Am I some walking billboard that says "this guy needs state assistance."
Maybe I do buy into the conservative talking points about welfare a little bit. If I'm eligible for state assistance...maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm not working hard enough. I'm not being productive enough.
Maybe I'm not a good provider for my family.
That phone number in black ink on a yellow scrap of paper makes me feel a little ashamed.
We're not doing so bad. There are other people who have it ACTUALLY BAD. Their kids are malnourished. They have terrible health problems. They never went to college. They have few prospects for advancement. They have 87 children. They live in dirt floor homes in leaking log cabins weakly insulated from a harsh and howling winter by dirty syringe needles, glass, and biohazard disposal bags. There are people living in TENTS, or on the street.
If I were to take advantage of my eligibility it feels like I would be stealing from my state. Michigan is already pushed to the edge with budget shortfalls and an overloaded welfare system.
As the daycare person handed it to me she said something about how most of the women who work there have unemployed husbands. "The unemployed seem to outnumber the employed here..." The closure of the paper mill seems to have affected a lot of people. Everyone is a little on edge about GM.
Maybe my perspective is warped.
My life feels normal. Hard sometimes, but normal. I don't feel...you know........don't make me say it............."poor"
I sometimes feel like we have it very good. I block out the mounting medical debt and the slow, but persistent decay of our home and car which goes unattended. I mean, we have indoor plumbing. And soap. And a "refridgerating machine" that keeps food cold and preserves it. That's pretty luxurious by historical standards. And our '98 Ford Escort contains technology that would have made kings salivate with envy a century ago. My children have food, AND they have vaccinations that make them Super Humans, nigh invulnerable to diptheria and measles. That's impressive stuff, all.
Perspective!
I've just thrown a couple more logs onto the fire to warm the house.
Last frost is the end of May.
That's when I can plant my tomatoes. I hear they're good canning tomatoes. Japanese Trifele Black Tomatoes. I also have Wisconsin Lakes bell peppers to plant, and calypso beans. They're very pretty beans. Black and white, like a yin yang symbol. The garden is pretty big. I need to put a 6 foot tall fence around the perimeter to keep the deer out. Those bastards ate everything last year.
That phone number on my table is vexing me. Maybe I owe it to my kids to call it. I don't want to call.
Update [2009-4-11 23:56:2 by Muskegon Critic]:
Thanks for all the amazing comments. Kossacks Rule. Nicest bunch of folks ever. I don't know what Beck is talking about ;)
We're not alone.
Thanks everyone.