A View of It Happens Everyday

I hop in my car at the end of a long work week. It's Friday! Time to enjoy a relaxing weekend. But first some errands, just like I do everyday. Stop and get gas, pick up some potting soil and a new planter for an office plant that needs more space, think about picking up something for dinner before deciding to cook something when I get home.

I'm driving down Woodward, just like I do everyday, enjoying some music, happy to feel a cool breeze coming through my windows, when I see something I don't see everyday.

There was a woman on the corner of Woodward and Glendale. She was slumped over in a wheelchair, her right hand grazing the pavement. Her hair fell forward in her face, her feel slack on the sidewalk. She was wearing black knit shorts, worn down flip flops (or should I say a worn down flip flop - one had come off her foot), and a black and white plaid shirt that was almost completely open. The way she was positioned in the chair and the way she was slumped over, it was hard to tell if she were male or female.

The driver in front of me blew his horn in an attempt to rouse her. She didn't move. At that moment, the light changed and it was time to move on. Just like drivers do everyday. I had to pull forward and drive through the parking lot of the gas station across the street in order to circle back into the parking lot she was in front of and call the police.

As I was on the phone with a dispatcher, a woman walked by the woman in the chair. She tapped her on the shoulder, and for the first time since I'd seen her, the woman in the chair moved. It was a slight nod of her head, just enough for the passerby to assume she was okay. She kept on walking. The dispatcher told me an ambulance and a squad car was on the way - someone had called a couple of minutes earlier. I hung up the phone, turned off the car, and got out.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" I asked walking toward her. She barely moved. I noticed an old bandage about six inches long taped on her leg. It looked like hadn't been changed in several days.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" I got a bit closer. By now, I could see that she hadn't had a bath in at least a day or two. The bare foot was ashy and dirty, almost black on the bottom. She looked up slightly and murmured something, but I couldn't hear what. She looked old and neglected. Her teeth were ragged, her lips dry and a little chapped. She barely opened her eyes.

I started to go a little closer, but I was afraid to touch her. I didn't know what was wrong with her. Was she having a seizure? Hypoglycemic? High? Combative? I didn't know what to do.

Fortunately by this time, the ambulance was pulling up. At the same time, a man was approaching the corner. He was shaking his head.

"She does this everyday," he said, as the EMT was walking up to the woman in the wheelchair. Almost simultaneously, the EMT spoke to the woman.

"Jane (not her real name)? Have you been drinking again?"

"I had to put her out of the gas station," the man standing next to me said. "She comes over to the gas station and hangs out with the other drunks. We have to throw her out everyday."

The second EMT asked the two of us some questions about her. How long had she been there on the corner? Just a few minutes. The two men she'd been drinking with wheeled her across the street and left her on the corner before they took off. How much had she had to drink? The men had thrown away and empty fifth of vodka before wheeling her away from the gas station. How long had it been since a call went in to 911? When I talked to the dispatcher, it was 6:44. The dispatcher told me she'd received a call about the woman at 6:38.

"I don't know why she's in that chair," the man next to me said. "She can walk, you know. She lives right across the street.'

By now, the woman was sitting up a little straighter in her chair, though she was still slumped over. The first EMT buttoned up her shirt as he asked her what she wanted.

"I just want to go home," she said. Her words slurred. The EMT stepped back, flinching from the smell of alcohol on her breath. The second EMT began unloading a gurney from the back of the ambulance. At about this point, a squad car arrived.

"Jane? Are you okay?" The police officers knew her by name, too.

"It's the usual," said the first EMT. "She's had a lot to drink today."

The man next to me worked at the gas station across the street. He said this happens everyday. Jane comes to the station to panhandle and drink. She has too much and gets kicked out, passes out, or both. The police and an ambulance show up, get her some treatment, then take her home.

"It happens everyday," the man from the gas station said. Shaking his head, he walked away. I asked the EMT if he needed anything else from me. When he said no, I began to walk to my car. I looked back, and I saw them preparing to put her on the gurney. The cops and the EMTs talked to her and each other, handling her with care, trying to joke with her and each other.

I got in my car and headed down Woodward towards home. Just like I do everyday.

More later, but I can't help but wonder if she's okay. And I hope that the same thing that happens to her everday doesn't happen to her tomorrow. If you know anyone who has a drinking problem, please get in touch with Alcoholics Anonymous, your doctor, or trusted adviser for assistance on how to help that person; and Al-Anon to get help for yourself on how to cope with a loved one's addiction. Keep your eyes open as you go about your day-to-day affairs, and don't be afraid to provide any assistance if you see someone in trouble or something that isn't right - even if that assistance is simply calling 911. For every person who stopped, there were at least ten who kept on going as though nothing was wrong. Everyday will just keep happening the same as it does unless we try to do just one thing a little different.

A View Of Handling the Truth, Ready or Not

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I married for the second time back in September 2007. After my first marriage failed, I vowed I'd never remarry because the first failure was emotionally and financially catastrophic. Why go through that pain again if I didn't have to, right?

Well, I ended up meeting a man who I thought was worth the risk. It seemed like a good investment at the time - he was kind, we had a lot in common, he seemed to genuinely care for me, and I fell head over heels for him. He assured me time and time again that he wanted to be with me for the rest of our lives and pledged his fidelity to me. After thinking it over, I decided to make the investment and give marriage another shot.

Roughly six months later, my emotional investment crashed. Turns out he was, to keep with the theme, was investing with me and at least two other women. He thought he was keeping his, ahem, assets safe by making sure the women were in other states. What harm could come from diversification, I imagine he thought. One was long term - he'd been seeing her almost as long as he'd been seeing me. They even began talking about marrying in 2010. The other(s) just offered, shall we say, short term liquidity. I chose to divest and get out of his market. I can't begin to tell you how angry, embarrassed, and confused I was as I went through my separation and divorce.

Through it all, one question kept coming to mind: Why? I wondered how I let myself get taken in by someone who was not the best choice for me. I wondered how much of what he said, did, and vowed was true and how much was pure junk. I wondered if he'd said the same things, made the same vows, and pledged to love the other women the same way he'd done with me. What I've tried not to do, however, was blame the other women. It was (and still is) hard, but in the end I had to remind myself that in the end it was his actions that were wrong. (In fact, I found out the one he was involved with the longest didn't even know he was married.) The women may have had some culpability, but not as much as him. They didn't take a vow before all creation and the state to love, honor, and foresake all others with me 'til death.

I also had to remind myself that I had some culpability in this situation. There were several times when I had the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. Instead of paying attention to that gut feeling and exploring it, I chose to move forward without seriously thinking of the future. I didn't question the long term and chose to focus on the immediate moment. That was a bad emotional investment, but I went forward and ended up paying a high cost in the end. I also had to accept the fact that I may never truly know why he did what he did. I didn't (and don't) like the idea of not knowing the full truth, but in the end it's more important to learn from the mistake and move on than dwell on what may have happened to the point of emotional paralysis.

My marriage and the way it ended came to mind as I watched the news this weekend. It's funny how the financial crisis and bailout parallels my personal situation. There's so much anger, resentment, hurt, and fear in the country today based on the ongoing failures of the financial system. There's a ton of mistrust about how the bailout package will work. The panic that's setting in seems to be taking us to the point of economic paralysis. There's so much fear that things are going to get worse that things are getting worse. Just today the Dow took another tumble, falling below 10,000 because fear that the credit crisis is spreading globally. People are afraid of failing and don't trust the solution they pushed so hard to put in place, so they're pulling out of a perceived failing market - leading to more failure and mistrust. It's an ugly, downward spiral.

What's even uglier is that there doesn't seem to be is a willingness for everyone involved to accept their share of the blame. One example of this can be found in today's Washington Post. The National Urban League sent a letter to Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson asking him to refute claims by conservative pundits that subprime mortgages to minorities led to the current financial crisis and needed bailout. According to the report, Mr. Paulson received an electronic copy but did not respond.

This is sad on several levels. First, it seems to me that it would be an unfair overstatement to lay the entire blame for the current financial mess on minority home ownership opportunities. Many people took advantage of too good to be true financing and mortgage opportunities, buying homes they couldn't afford based on the allure of easy financing and ARMs that seemed like they'd never adjust up.

Next, it seems to me that the man who now controls the purse strings for the proposed bailout should, at the very least, make some sort of public response to the letter. I'm not saying that he has to agree with the charges or disagree with them. What I am saying is that he should be willing to sit down with the National Urban League and hear them out. Their concerns have some legitimacy, and any solution to the credit and financial problems need to include open discussion about how to make sure the housing market is accessible by everyone in this country. To not respond sends a message that the Treasury Department - an arm of the federal government - either doesn't care or doesn't know how to respond to the letter. Whatever the case, that doesn't help to instill trust that our government is willing to do any and everything to resolve the ever growing problem.

Finally, it seems to me that all of us need to step up and take some ownership of this problem. My ex-husband, for whatever reason, wanted to be unfaithful. His ability to act on that want was made easier by my willingness to look past my feeling that something was wrong, and his ability to find other willing partners. Similarly, the financial system was allowed to create an unchecked, lightly regulated loan market with little regard to future cost. People were willing to buy a home that under different circumstances they would be scarcely able to afford because there was easy "buy now, pay later" credit. When the market could no longer support that model of financing, bills came due and it was time to pay the consequences.

It's time to acknowledge that we (and I mean the collective "we") helped create this situation by not being fiscally responsible ourselves, then work individually to make sure we never give into financial temptation like this again. I'm just as guilty of financial irresponsibility as the next person, indulging my urge to buy something pretty by whipping out the credit card instead of truly determining the difference between want and need. I'm not as bad off as some, but I could be a lot better financially. I also could've followed my head instead of my heart when it came to remarrying, but I didn't and ended up having to deal with the emotional fallout. The good thing about this is learning from the situation and it's aftermath, making the pledge to improve instead of lashing out and looking for a scapegoat. Improvement and growth starts with each of us individually, then working together to make all of us better. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy folks. Here's hoping we're brave enough to accept that.

The truth is right there in front of us all the time, waiting to be acknowledged. Are we ready to face it and do the right thing, or will we keep looking for the easy way in the short term with no regard for long term effects? In other words, why go through that pain again if we don't have to?

More later.