Standing at a crossroads

As Chip is my witness, there are a few things in life that I’m not naturally cut out to be, however desperately I wish them to be so.  An early riser is one and a runner is the other.  Never was a person more ill prepared structurally or emotionally for running.  My legs are short and my mind is weak.  Still, every few years I give it a try.  A call to action.  Being unemployed is no excuse for making the slow slide into stretch-waisted pants.

The row of treadmills at the YMCA overlooks a multitude of crossroads at the Beltline and Whitney Way and from my perch I watched hundreds of people moving about their day while I ran in place.  And no, that irony was not lost on me.  Above my head on a muted CNN, Obama stood at the ideological crossroads of history making health care legislation.

I have worked with many families over the years dealing with the lightning strike of an unexpected illness and the inevitable financial strain and drain that comes from mystery out-of-pocket expenses and repeated denials of hospitalization days, necessary equipment and treatments; all sorts of obscure and surprise exclusionary tactics used by insurance companies to reclaim profits on the backs of those too unwitting to question or fight back.  I’m so grateful for health care reform and hope next on the President’s agenda is creating a job for this mama.

As for the people who yell “faggot” at Barney Frank and make traitorous rallying cries against our country and our President while wrapping themselves in the flag, their poorly cloaked racist rhetoric will hopefully continue to alienate most people and remain irrelevant to a younger, browner and gayer voting bloc growing bigger every day.

a recycled picture that never gets old for me

Obama methodically signed the bill one stroke at a time, each letter made with a new pen held in his lefty-hooked grip and a little boy patiently waited for his pen, watching history being made too late to help his mom.  My iPod flipped over to Bruce Springsteen’s Radio Nowhere and I took one last look at the Beltline for signs of revolution or apocalypse.  Everything looked normal and I finished my run and walked outside into a new America.  Still chilly.