hero's

Hero’s often times never know how their actions impact those around them. Few women or men start out with the capital H emblazoned on the their chest and most never end up with a cape or for that matter tight fitting leotards. Hero’s often time take action because making change, separating the right from the wrong, finding justice is all that makes sense. Miracles seem magical but quite simply when you combine equality with fair then mix in reason with purpose finally shaking them well with intent wham bam you have something special.

Tonight is the first night of Hanukah and ever since I was a youth I remember lighting our Menorah and listening to the tales of the Maccabies the tribe of Jewish men who fought injustice, persecution and against most odds prevailed. Freedom it seemed has no caveats, you either live it or not and if not you fought as hard as it took to maintain it and then flourish in it;  never take it for granted. Hero’s see cause understand effect and try very hard to take actions to make the necessary change when fair is unbalanced and equality very biased.

Tonight is the start of a festival of lights an eight day celebration of either divine intervention or the insight of men and women who wanted to make a difference. Tonight is a festival encouraging family and friends to share in their hopes and dreams to never ever permit those particular flames to extinguish. Tonight is the beginning of a festival that speaks loudly of heroes; the people of the past but most importantly those who in our every day lives making a difference via defiance and with plenty of deference. 

Tonight with the company of my family I will light the candles, say a few prayers and recall the hero’s in my life who have made a difference, the men and women whose heart followed their soul whose hands took action from their heads. Chag Urim Sameach, Happy Holiday of the Lights!

giving thanks

It was almost Thanksgiving, my lesson plan as a student teacher at Point Park Lab School was to teach the integrated class of first through third graders a bit of history leading up to turkey day.  The assignment was to be more of a ‘touchy’ ‘feely’ experience as this school focused on the senses of learning and after all it was the decade of the sixties (you know the Age of Aquarius). The purpose of this lesson plan was to have the children identify with those Americans of the past with their various backgrounds and how that is relevant to the present and our individual backgrounds. As most I was once was a student teacher knows this was a challenge and lots of prep time, creativity and bulletin boards were readied. (Back in the day we also used a lot of mimeograph paper). 

As I was thumbtacking my 85th addition to the Thanksgiving bulletin board, Maureen, a very vocal young girl started yelling at her fellow classmate Ezra. Expression of self was promoted at the Lab School, but this discourse was unusually loud, and a bit frenetic. I think I had one more set of wings to add to the turkey for the board, but being the ever present student teacher placed my arts and crafts on the table and rushed over to both Maureen and Ezra. As I approached the two, Maureen began screaming “…it is not your holiday, it is for Christians, my mother told me we give thanks to God for Thanksgiving and your God is different. Before I could even muster up my wise and sage voice to intervene Maureen looked at me and continued, “Mr. Bunch (it was the late sixties I was a cool teacher), tell Ezra that it was the Pilgrims who invented Thanksgiving and remind him they were Christian.”

And there I was, suddenly my lesson plan was irrelevant, suddenly this holiday that I knew as American as apple pie was being perceived as a religious event and suddenly what I considered the innocence of youth was turning into a misstatement by the not so young. Happily my classroom teacher walked in called the kids into a group and dealt head on with the subject of who can celebrate holidays. If we want God to bless us during Thanksgiving she said we do so because this is America. If we wish to thank only our family and friends for the bounty we received we can do so, because this is America. If we don’t want to thank anyone and not even celebrate Thanksgiving we also can do because this is America. My teacher added as she held Maureen and Ezra’s hand because this is America no one has the right to say how they celebrate the holiday is the right way. This is America children, she added and the beauty of America is we all are equal and no ones God or lack of God makes us any better or worse.

When the kids were dismissed my teacher and I sat down to decompress. Quite the day she said in a very nonplused voice. I suppose we have a to look closely at how we educate our students regarding Thanksgiving. Perhaps the folklore plays a much more important role rather than the facts and instead of wanting to know reasons we prefer to be lulled into fudging the truth. Maybe if we can stop this generation of students from assuming the truth, the truth might be freed. We can only hope a day like today made a difference. That was almost 50 years ago. As I begin to celebrate Thanksgiving 2013, I still wonder how this holiday is perceived and if in fact is about permitting all Americans no matter their differences the right to give thanks.

THEM

Like so many other Americans at least 55 and older I too can remember where I was when the  assassination of JFK  was announced. I was only a ninth grader but even at the point in my life, I remember having experienced great joy at the election of the young president, the trauma and terror during the Cuban Missile Crisis and the sadness, grief and fear of his death. I was young enough to believe that a president could and should make a difference in my life, naive enough to think that the rest of the nation could follow his lead, and hopeful enough to believe that change was good. Like so many other Americans 55 and older I can recall the somber, silence of those around me; crying, ringing their hands, looking to the heavens for an answer. But I can also remember the creepy fingers of paranoia at the ready to grab any form of reality and replace it with dire, dubious disaster. It was Coach Dunlap’s gym class when the principal rang the gong on the loud speaker asking for everyone’s attention. We were playing basketball and the coach blew very hard on his whistle, longer then when he called a fowl and heavier even to announce the end of the game. The principal with a very wobbly voice and too many choking sounds chomped on his words but finally told us the president was shot. It was the first time I heard an adult use the word assassination other then my history teacher speaking about Lincoln.

School was dismissed, all we knew was that this prince, this handsome young man, this man of the people, this idol of mine who asked what it was I could do for my country had been shot. Walking home from school my two friends began to share the gossip they had heard; anything from the Communists did it, to we had better get home because the foreign troops would be invading the country. It was a 20 minute walk home and as we passed men and women waiting at bus stops all we saw and heard was sobbing, shouting of oh my God. Some people seemed frozen, others were in a hurry, the kind of hurry foreshadowing the announcement of something very bad! My friends and I were terrified, walking home from school had never felt this horrible of a task.

I arrived home to both my mother and father sitting in front of the TV watching Walter Cronkite. Usually my mother would be home to greet me, but to see my father still in his police uniform staring at the television made me quite uncomfortable the kind of upset that makes you dizzy as your heart races. My mother was crying, my father’s eyes were red. My mother looked away from the television and told me the president had died. They killed him she said, they shot and killed him. Suddenly the word they had ominous meaning to it. So, my friends were correct THEY killed the president now THEY most surely would come after all the other Americans. My little sister arrived home from elementary school and was sobbing as she entered the house shouting, is it world war three are they going to drop the bombs. Rumor was rampant, fiction was formed as facts and in my house on my street in my city, my state and my country fear had found its footing.

JFK was a hero for me. He seemed like a movie star, an older brother able to show you the ropes, a best friend always pushing you harder and a man who cared. At 14 years of age, I was inspired, hopeful that the United States was truly a leader among nations not because our weapons were bigger or better, but our leaders were real people. JFK’s death left an emptiness for me and a rude awakening that good does not always prevail, and evil is always lurking. It has been 50 years ago today when the chaos reigned supreme and innocence was lost. That is one thing I will never forget and the loss of innocence I still morn.

how hungry

How hungry is hungry? If we are on a diet and decide to cut back our food intake… lessen the per portion sizes…refuse that dessert…is that hungry? How often have we gone hungry? We have the flu lost our appetite…decided to fast so we could fit into that dress that bathing suit…had to finish our tasks at work or cram for a test no time to eat…is that going hungry? How do we feel about being hungry? I hate the service at this restaurant at least there could be bread on the table…we were stuck in traffic for hours had nothing to eat…we missed the last exit and the next food court is two hours away…is that how we feel about hunger?

Our US Congress is deciding on how hungry is hungry, who should go hungry, and how to define hunger. The men and women (most proclaiming first to be good soldiers of Judeo/Christianity, secondly better Americans) elected to establish laws in this nation, want to cut back funding for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) a program established to provide food/nutrition for those under the poverty line, at the poverty line or just enough above the poverty line to not completely drown. These self proclaimed soldiers of hungry want to decide just how much food is enough and when too much food is kind of sorta like socialism, communism or anti-Americanism. These demigods of hunger who have only wined or complained because they missed a meal or two insist that cutbacks in the SNAP program are really for the good of our children, not the current crop of kids but the next generation. Food stamps, they shout from their ivory towers, just make you lazy…three meals a day as they preach with a Bible in their hands makes you selfish…you want to eat, they demand, then find a job.

The divide between the very rich and the very poor has widened. The have’s are clearly enjoying banquets while the have not’s are settling for scraps. We are reminded just how much this nation has strayed from Christian values as we are told that the hunger is not really on God’s to do list. Hunger is being debated by men and women who have only experienced a delay in the waiter delivering a meal, a forgotten trip to the grocery store, left overs because no one was able to cook a fresh meal. We are told that while tax breaks for the rich, corporations are people, the military budget is the key to our success as a free democratic nation, those poor citizens, non corporation people, and any one not producing a bomb, battleship or bazooka are non essential for democracy or decency. We are told primarily by Tea Party/Republican jihadists that if you are hungry it is your own fault and the government has absolutely no responsibility to help out. Just how hungry is hungry?

why oh why wyoming

Liz Cheney is a chip off the old block of her dad. She has learned the lessons in politics to cater to the haters, feign innocence when accused of lying or insincerity, and push your momma, papa, first grade teacher, and sister under the bus when necessary. Liz Cheney is the product of heterosexual parents who pretend to have morals and values and who only promote that which is important to their own survival. Liz Cheney most likely has a tattoo on her ass stating weapons of mass destruction forever and water boarding is a romp in the kiddie pool. Why else would Liz Cheney demonstrate no real emotion as she went public and said her sister Mary who happens to be a Lesbian is less of a being when it comes to marriage. Liz’s disregard for not only the same-sex marriage of her sister and the children being raised in that same-sex home for most would be shameful, pitiful and loathing but when it comes to standards set by momma Lynn and poppa DICK Cheney it is nothing but normal behavior.

Perhaps if the Cheney’s led a private life this issue of ignorance would just get a sigh of sorrow from passerby's but this very political family is anything but private citizens.  Liz Cheney found herself back in her daddy’s right wing playground of Wyoming and wants to out red any red neck bigot as she makes a run for the Senate. Liz’s message is not about fact but insistent of fear. Liz’s message is never about inclusion but just how wide and deep you can exclude. Liz Cheney’s message is not based on fair and equal but oozing in hypocrisy and hyperbole. Just like her dad, Liz contends that to win elections is not about doing the right thing, but more about finding enemies and blame. Make sure you cast some people as “others”, as strange as misguided, corrupt, immoral. Never really state your principles (DICK Cheney showed us just how few he had when he not only sent our Troops to a made up war and then outed a CIA agent), just scream as loud as you can that either they are at fault or they made me do it.

Sadly, Liz Cheney is running for office. Not just any office but the Senate. Sadly there are people in Wyoming who still think daddy DICK is a darling, momma Lynn just lovely and daughter Liz perfect to represent bias and bogus for them in Washington. Liz Cheney is DICK Cheney in waiting and does America really want to wait for that again?

we said "I do"

We said “I do”, even though some shouted no you don’t. We said “I do” even though some claiming to speak for God insisted no you won’t. We said “I do”, then added love; while some insist that its not from heaven above. We said “I do”, my husband for life, while insecure folk demand it be husband and wife. We said “I do”, Wednesday morn, no other marriage died, but ours was born.

Freedom should be a common denominator. Equality should be as free as the air we breathe. The love of your life should be personal not petty. We said “I do” among family and friends, in a courthouse of the people. We said “I do” officiated by a Judge who proclaimed love is love. We said “I do” waiting our turn with four couples ahead of us and a slew of couples to follow.  We said “I do”, and as we exited the courthouse so many others shouted of course you do.

Each marriage is unique, but in a land of laws and democracy it should also be the norm with no exceptions based on bigotry, bias, bogus or religious zealotry. Joe and I said “I do” two words between two people not who happen just to be two men, or two women or a man and woman, but a dialogue, albeit short and sweet defining that from this point forward there is one more component to our love.  We said “I do” on Wednesday, night fell, Thursday’s sun shone, LA did not quake and shake, hypocrisy still flourishes in politics and religion, some people are still hungry others gluttonous, some people are happy to be alive others just struggle. We said “I do”, and the lives of Joe and I changed dramatically and not much else happened to change the world.

on the 12th

And as is the pleasure of Americans, we celebrate a community of people, thanking them for their service, remembering them for the sacrifices they made…but then just as sadly, typical for most Americans, we just stop at recalling the history and go no further. Our Vets are honored today for the lives lost, the bodies maimed, the minds confused in disarray, and the emotions shared and shattered. We list the wars fought with courage, we salute the men and women who said country first, we tip our hats, place a hand at our hearts for comrades lost and try to recognize the unimaginable actions taken to secure, life, liberty and the pursuit if happiness.

Veterans Day arrives with laying of wreaths, parades, dusting off of old pictures of our family and friends in uniform, and when the calendar turns to the 12th of November all of the genuine thought and praise is tucked neatly away. We remember with great energy but permit the memories to be waylaid, detoured or abandoned forgetting much too often the here and now. We are thankful, grateful and humbled…but then what?

Two current wars, each providing this nation with more Vets. The same government which told us that weapons of mass destruction were evident, that democracy much flourish even in the Middle East, that terrorism is the enemy, refuses to provide food stamps, health care, emotional support and jobs when the soldier returns as a Vet. The same government whose debate on the war was weak and empty now seems locked in a non winnable debate with the loser being the Vet coming home to emptier promises and provisions. The same government at the ready to supposedly fight for freedoms in other countries, restricts the basic freedoms for its returning Vets. The same nation will close its banks, schools and government offices but does little else for the health and welfare of its Vets.

It is the pleasure of Americans to honor its heroes. We are a nation of great giving; even in the act of war the giving one’s of life. We provide cemeteries, monuments, holidays for our Vets; but more then that seems difficult, annoying. It is Veterans Day, a day we are reminded to stop and take notice of the American citizen who stepped forward to keep democracy alive. But why is it so difficult for our Troops to live a fuller life once they return home and become a Vet?

what exactly

For dinner in our house we had the usual diners, me, my three sisters, my Father, my Grandma Braff my Aunt Meercy at least one friend and a neighborhood child. On a non holiday night my mother would prepare at least two main dishes, two kinds of salad, mashed potatoes  and on winter nights home made soup. As delicious as all that might be, the treat of each and every evening was her home baked dessert; cakes, cookies, cupcakes, pies of all flavors with or without creamy, dreamy icing filled with fruits, or jams.  If you wanted it freshly baked, all you had to do was tell Rena Buncher your favorite and wham, Jewish Mom bam it was hot and ready to eat. Our house always smelled like a bakery and often times instead of shopping at the local bakery the neighbors would find reason to stop by and always take home a little of this a slice of that and if lucky just one more dozen of this or that. My mother was a talented woman but loved to receive the ‘kvell’ (joy) of others for her culinary creativeness and her delicious desserts. Usually a humble woman she took great pride in her home made baked goods and never quite stopped anyone from bragging about her talents in the kitchen.

Growing up in our house on Denniston most of our family took for granted that the desserts would be baked and served. My mother could be counted on to insist she bake any request and always added her five or six speciality items just for good measure. But as each of my sisters and I got married entering into the realm of our own kitchens and ovens we realized that distance or for the matter of convenience preparing the desserts ourselves might make more sense. Of course my mother insisted that it was no bother she could bake for us.  However, we all knew she was getting older, the turn around time a little more difficult and we wanted to be the recipients of our  own spouses and children’s delights and glory. My sisters and I assumed that the dessert baking DNA flowed as freely in our chromosomes as any other inherited trait, so dessert time should be kind of easy. 

One by one each of my siblings and I would call our mother, explain how much we liked this cake, those cookies that pie and ask her to give us the recipes. My mother would hem and haw, tell us she never quite wrote the ingredients down anywhere and try to end the conversation with it would be a lot better if I baked them for you. One by one my sisters and I would reply, Ma, you know the recipes, come on we are your family, share. After much consternation, consideration, hesitation and utter resistance my mother would supply the information. What none of my sisters and I knew was that each of us received a recipe for the same baked goods, but each of us had a least one missing product. Whenever we would attempt to bake that cake, pie or cookie, it never ever tasted like the goodies my mother made.  Of course we just thought perhaps the baking gene never found its way into our bodies. It was not until my mothers passing, and the collecting of her personal times did we figure out that the flat tasting pastries had little to do with the DNA, but more to do with an effort to hide some of the information. My mother had written her recipes, hidden them in a a very tattered and torn notebook under the signage of share when I am gone!

My mother knew very well what she was up to and as much love as she had for all of us, my mother still delighted in being the queen of the kitchen replete with her secrets. Recently, thank goodness, many American citizens have begun to concern themselves with the recipes and products used for all kinds of food, and have wondered and worried where did they come from? Is that corn or barley modified with chemicals…how exactly was that corn syrup  grown which is used for soft drinks…while I am eating that fatty hamburger, what was the cattle nushing on to make it so fat? Many Americans have begun asking of the corporations who produce the vast majority of our food sources whats in your recipe? Like my sisters and I all we wanted to know is how did you make this? The issue of Genetically Modified Organisms has become political. Something seemingly as simple as listing how and why and where and what we are eating be listed, a recipe of sorts is being received as if we were sitting with a Oujia board calling the Devil to appear.  Simply trying to be educated on the list of products in what we are eating, so as consumers we can make a decision as to whether we should eat those products or not, is called UnAmerican. Suddenly asking to reveal the secret is unconscionable. It took my mothers passing for my sisters and I to get to the truth. I just hope it does not take the passing of innocent Americans who just want to know what they are eating to get to the truth about GMO’s.

A Two Step

They were dressed in jeans with a very precise ironed crease, shiny boots in God knows how many animal skins, a bolo hanging from a very crisp and starched long sleeve cotton shirt embroidered with a ruby, sapphire and diamond outline of the US of A. They wore a bronzed belt buckle proudly announcing the name of their favorite ranch, college alma mater or jean manufacturer only outdone by the cowboy hat ordained in tans, mustards or ebonies, extra pointy, immensely wide with just the right amount of lanyard shaped like the lone star bouncing up and down as they strutted by. They were lined up at the ready to enjoy the pomp and circumstance, the rehearsed chaos, the glitter and glitz of the dance floor. They were ready to glide, gallop, stride, explode dancing the Two Step with such sincerity, integrity, intimidation and charisma!

Two men, each a couple, the look of importance, the sense of romance, the mood of intrigue as they partnered up and sashayed upon the hand laid wood of the floor. They were at the ready to embrace the rhythm add their own rhyme and flawlessly remove all the worries of the world outside this Texas honky tonk. One man, the lead, his eyes both facing the direction they would dance and glancing at his partner. The other man able to abide to the adrenaline flowing, following but as strong and defiant. One man would hold his arm high, erect like the sails of a ship ready for the wind. He would set the course. The other man a passenger as if standing on the bow of the ship ebbing and flowing with each bump and grind, step and turn. They were partners the two of them dancing magically, athletically to the Two Step.

There I was at first an observer. I had just moved to Houston Texas after finally removing the heavy burden of fear and coming out as a man who also happened to be Gay. My first Gay country/western bar. I was witnessing sights that at one time of my life would have caused consternation; two men slow dancing. I had always been told, educated, lectured that slow dance was like marriage something that took one man one woman. I was always reminded it was just the nature of things for one man and one woman when it came to slow dancing. But here I was entranced, watching strong male images, dancing together proud, sure, capable of twisting, turning, prancing. Suddenly, I was asked to dance, shy at first, slightly embarrassed, very giddy I immediately declined. How could I slow dance with a man. I might be Gay but not that Gay. And besides I always led, I was taught to lead never follow on the dance floor I am a man after all! The cowboy was persistent, just try he said I am a great leader and with the Two Step it takes as much strength to follow. So, I took his hand let him lead me to the precise spot on the dance floor. My heart raced, I felt my palms grow sweaty I had to talk my knees out of buckling, but I strode onto the dance floor. I began to hear a voice telling me this is natural, this is normal. I danced, I did not have to lead, I was able to follow and even still I danced and as I danced the music never changed but I did.

The night I Two Stepped with another man was a moment in my life that will never fade. It was one more experience in which I realized that norms were not necessarily normal; that expectations were often times as flimsy as as fiction. It was a night I knew that masculinity had nothing to with other people’s interpretations but everything to do with how I choose to live my life. That night, I learned as a Gay man I can do anything, no matter how others may wish I don’t; be it marriage, adoption or discrimination on the job. Life is like dancing the Two Step with whom ever you choose!

end equality

And now equality is raring its scary head one more time with the pushing for the passage of ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) Legislation proposed in the Unites States Congress that would prohibit discrimination in hiring and employment on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity by civilian, nonreligious employers with at least 15 employees. The conservative Christian dominated Heritage Foundation, largely focused on right-wing economic policy/culture war demanded a vote against the bill, saying it "threatens fundamental civil liberties" by "coerc[ing companies] into accepting the federal government’s set of values.” John Boehner a Roman Catholic who has been clear that as a Catholic same-sex marriage is not a real marriage insisted that if ENDA was enacted all it would do is damage small businesses and cause frivolous lawsuits. 

I have had enough of religious bigots complaining that via their interpretation of the Bible or their personal relationship with God they are feeling as the oppressed and they are victims of discrimination. I am tired of self proclaimed soldiers for God to refuse any minority the same rights, privileges and laws they enjoy. I am tired of the bully insisting that if they don’t beast up the victim first they might end up bloodied themselves. I am so tired of blaming human frailties, phobias, hatreds and hostility on God. I am tired of being told that because I am Gay I am the issue.

The Heritage Foundation is a scary group of wealthy men and women who want deny and diminish the rights of people they fear. They like to pick and choose which federal laws feel good and which ones disrupt their need to destroy democracy. To not insist that all discrimination end has little to with a true belief in religion but more of a belief in bigotry. Picking and choosing who can fire an LGBT person makes no sense in country proclaiming to be a democracy. ENDA will not prohibit you from insisting your God only likes people like you, but it will stop you from firing anyone who is not like you. ENDA will not block the entrance to your biased church, but it will not permit you to block me from the work place because I am Gay. ENDA will not threaten you belief in a God who hates, but it will deny you the right because you hate me to fire me. Why oh why do the so called religious Christian Conservatives have such trouble believing in a God who simply believes in equality?

equality simple

Equality, how come the mere mention of equality, the act of permitting people to have the same rights is so often times decreed a curse brought forth by the Devil? How come, so often times is the mere mention of you and I, me and you sharing the same rights so seemingly associated as a God awful act? Why is it that once the word equality is spoken many who pretend that God is their Lord and Savior, swear that blasphemy and Beelzebub have both been spoken and conjured forth?  

Southern Preachers and Pastors stood on their bully pulpit in front of statues and portraits of Jesus Christ thumping on the Bible insisting to their congregation that the Negro was created as less human then the white man. Ministers across the nation swore while holding a Bible in their right hand that once women were given the right to vote or work for the same salary as men families would begin their demise shouting that after all it was Adam who was created first and Eve only his rib. God may have created life on Earth but God according to these self appointed soldiers for God never ever had reason to make all of his creations equal.

Tenari Maafala, the President of Hawaii’s police union and an active police officer with the Honolulu Police Department, who testified that he would never enforce a law requiring same-sex marriage. “You would have to kill me”, he told law makers. Maafala said that same-sex marriage is contrary to his religious views and, “I stand by my beliefs.” (Huff Post Politics) The Governor of Alabama stood in front of that state’s university shouting down the Federal marshals that they would have to shoot him before he let any Negro enroll or attend classes. He insisted being a Christian and all that his Lord and Savior told him was the only law he needed to obey.

In a nation founded not only on a freedom for religious belief but FROM religious intolerance is once again finding itself struggling with a simple matter of democracy asking if all it’s citizens are created equal. In a nation whose history when read for facts (not altered, annotated or  abridged) was based on a divide of Church and State has found itself in a religious dilemma in deciding who is fair game for equality and who by the word of their God (not our Constitution) does not deserve it. Equality sounds so simple but for simpletons it seems so contentious. 

food glorious food

“Food glorious food, we’re anxious to try it! Three banquets a day, our favorite diet! (lyrics to Food Glorious Food, from the play ‘Oliver’

Hunger is hard. Most Americans, thank goodness, can complain about having too much to eat, or the food at the restaurant was awful and even  say that they are tired so often eating the same things. Hunger is hard. Most Americans can browse a menu and state how confused they are at which main course they should choose, get frustrated that the rare steak was too well cooked, or that the potatoes were cold. Hunger is hard.Hunger is hard. But most people who eat and eat and eat,whose only concern is choosing a new restaurant, whose only chore is finding a new restaurant is not anything about hunger. The Tea Party/Republican House of representatives who believe Jesus is the president of the USA, today decided that those who receive food stamps, are outliers, users, parasites and for that punishment should go hungry. Rush Limbaugh a multimillionaire spokesperson for the greedy and gluttonous decried any idea that cutting food stamps would keep people hungry insisting that it is just a liberal progressive piece of propaganda. So what if poor people, American Vets, seniors have a $36 a day cut in their food stamp allocation, they are bottom dwellers and deserve to starve if they cannot afford to buy enough food to not go hungry.  If you want to eat then work…if you want to eat make at least a sensible minimum wage…if  you think you actually deserve three meals a day…don’t count on the Tea Party/Republicans to help you out with that.

‘All Food, glorious food! What wouldn’t we give for, That extra bit more- - -Thats all we live for’ (lyrics from ‘Food Glorious Food’ from the play ‘Oliver” According to Christian Evangelicals like Michelle Bachman recently converted Catholics like Newt Gingrich, and the lively so called Libertarians like Rand Paul, hunger is self inflicted. If you work, no new jobs bills, if you really care, no motivation to increase your wages, if you truly believed in Jesus, apparently he never had a penchant for the poor, you would earn enough money to never starve. According to the Christian Conservative Right Wing obstructionists, hunger is your own fault. Jesus frowned upon you for being so selfish as to even say aloud you are hungry. Hunger hurst, but for the Tea Party/Republican it is a self inflected pain.

‘Why should we be fated to do nothing but brood on food, magical food, wonderful food, glorious food’, (lyrics from the play ‘Oliver’)

Such a shame, such a sinister misdeed, such a selfish act to insist that hunger is nothing more then a self inflicted wound. Such un-Christian actions by those who invoke God’s name to give permission for hate. Such un-American behavior by those who drape themselves in the Flag and Constitution. Such abhorrent arrogance by those who refuse to acknowledge the common good preferring division and divide. Hunger hurts and until you have only eaten one meal a day, eaten just a sliver, prioritized health care, shelter over sustenance you will never know just how much hunger hurts. This used to be America, a country where it did take a village to survive!