*#&^%*#$*# Paul Ryan

I've lamely tried to ignore my anger at Paul Ryan's recent made up example of a child who would rather have a home-made lunch than eat the reduced-cost or free meal at school. Perhaps that sentiment is true. I didn't grow up missing any meals so I don't know what it's like to have the stigma of eating a reduced cost or free meal. I also don't know what it's like to go hungry: to be so focused on the ache in my stomach that I can't think about a math problem or interpreting an author's meaning of a paragraph. I suspect neither does Mr. Ryan.

No matter how much Mr. Ryan wants this problem to be about a liberal's desire to create dependency-classes in society, it's not. Fuck you. It's about the heart-ache someone with resources feels knowing that there are indeed children in our very own communities who have these hunger pangs, and who's willing to do something about it. It's about ensuring access to SNAP or pushing for access to nutritional food during the only guaranteed intersection between a hungry child and society (school), this is what humans do. It's about not asking a child to go hungry because it's more noble to skip a meal provided by a nutritional program than to satisfy those hunger pangs.

Mr. Ryan's comment that nutritional assistance programs offer "a full belly and an empty soul" is as heartless a comment I can imagine coming from a proclaimed Catholic. I'm not a Christian, but I have heard of the story about Jesus feeding the masses. Was this offering an empty soul?

I've read a few defenses of Mr. Ryan. I should give him the benefit of the doubt because he's wading into dangerous political territory for a conservative - discussing poverty in America. Really? It's dangerous for conservatives to attack poverty programs? He perhaps chose words that carry meaning beyond his intent. Again, really? I believe there exists a politician's handbook that has on page 1: when you say something you intended that sounds awful, say your words are taken out of context. That you didn't mean that. Wink wink nudge nudge. It's like white-out for the spoken word.

Mr. Ryan is being neither courageous nor pioneering, he's doing exactly what conservatives have done for the last 50 years: stigmatize anyone who dares fall on hard times (or never got to the easy times) and blame social safety nets for causing the fall. As if the phenomenon of hungry children only started with the introduction of nutritional assistance programs.

I'll grant that there are perhaps ten trillion different ways society could address feeding a hungry child. But let's have this conversation after that hungry child has had breakfast.

Getting wiser

I've gotten much better identifying people I shouldn't spend time on, something I was godawful bad at through my formative years. I wish I could get better identifying the people I should spend more time on though, the people I encounter who deserve more of my time and attention. I realize a good chunk of these people may have no interest in spending more time on me. I'm OK with that.

I look back to identify some of these folks, not to be nostalgic or rueful (I think), but to inform myself and learn so as not to repeat. Or at minimum, to try to be better. Or as Bart Simpson said best, "I can't promise that I'll try. But I can promise that I'll try to try."

From my Spanky's days during and after college: Dave/David McDonald, Kenny Smith, and Phil Demby. David used to read the paper at the bar before his shift. Every day he would mutter, "Today's the day." I finally asked him what that meant. "Today's the day Garfield makes me laugh." That still makes me laugh. Wherever you are, Dave McDonald, here's to hoping Garfield will one day be funny.

Kenny Smith, not that Kenny Smith, the Kenny Smith who worked at Spanky's. Kenny was this terrific, free spirit I just couldn't appreciate at the time. Kenny and I went mountain biking one day and every time we'd shoot down a hill or hit a fun spot, Kenny would whoop in delight. At the time it just struck me as goofball weirdo stuff. In hindsight, Kenny was teaching me to embrace the moment. Wherever you are, Kenny Smith, here's to hoping you still hoot and holler down a dirt bike path.

Phil Demby. Phil was this strikingly handsome fellow who also happened to be one of the most genuinely nice guys I've ever known. This entry may be a bit rueful because the very last time I saw Phil I behaved as a drunken, offensive buffoon. Perhaps because at the time I was a drunken, offensive buffoon. What I learned from Phil was that it's just as easy to appreciate the people around you as it is to denigrate or dismiss them. Wherever you are Phil, you're the man. And I apologize for my drunken buffoonery the last time I saw you.