“Nothing ever seems to last
promises made promises lost
and pride is kept at any cost
and flowers die and children cry
and lonely people carry on.”
She was tired, but not too tired to go to work. Matter of fact, she was lucky to be able to have a job. So many of her friends were still at home, collecting, if fortunate enough, those ‘ not enough ‘ unemployment checks. She herself had no choice. She needed the money to stay in her apartment and pay to fix that old clunker on ‘life support’. True, the moratorium on her rent had been good for the interim, but now it was back to reality. And what would happen when they started demanding all that back money? No one in government gave that answer… because no one knew how that would play out. Yes, she was tired, too tired to even ponder all that.
She lived with her daughter, who was in her third year of college. The kid was already saddled with the student loans, and could not find a part time job anymore. Waitresses, or ‘ Servers’ as they were called, were not in demand, to say the least. On top of that her daughter was doing ‘ Virtual learning’ and that took discipline, which she did not have much of. So, she needed to keep on her kid to follow the regimen needed to pass those courses. All this made her even more tired.
She had absolutely no social life now. With this pandemic all she could do was rely on ‘ Face time ‘ with her sister and a few close friends. No more lunches or drinks and dancing out, and that was actually good right now. It saved her money, money needed at this moment to stay afloat. Being about to hit sixty years of age she had terrible health coverage. Her job only covered about one third of the premiums, and her deductible was $2500. If she had to go into the hospital, even for one or two nights, it would be her problem, not the insurance companies. A year ago, before the pandemic, she cut her finger really bad on a scissor at home. It just would not stop bleeding, so she had to rush to an Urgent Care nearby. When she felt faint after being stitched up, she started to pass out. The aide panicked a bit and called 911. Within minutes the Paramedics arrived and hurried her into the ambulance and rushed her to the ER. That bill cost her $1500, and she was still paying it off. Not being a political person at all, THAT woke her up a bit, and she became a Bernie Sanders supporter. This whole medical insurance thing was a joke, and she knew then that everyone should have coverage those on Medicare had… or even better than that.
The $600 dollar checks for the two of them had come in handy… but they both knew it was not enough. She wished she had been more well read on things pertaining to the issues important to her economic survival. Yet, she knew instinctively that the big corporations and the very wealthy were making out like bandits while the two of them suffered. When she saw how the candidate Andrew Wang was pushing for a Universal Basic Income, she hoped that something like that could be instituted. No one running other than he and Sanders seemed to be behind it, and she knew then that Biden was too wishy washy to ever do it as president. He was now president and she was correct. It faded away and she was left hoping for maybe one more stimulus check. So sad.
So, she wore her face mask and went about her business of just getting through this all. When would she be able to get the vaccine? At her age it might be months, or even a year. She and her daughter would have to truck it through. Help would not be on the way.
Philip A Farruggio is a contributing editor for The Greanville Post. He is also frequently posted on Global Research, Nation of Change, Countercurrents.org, and Off Guardian sites. He is the son and grandson of Brooklyn NYC longshoremen and a graduate of Brooklyn College, class of 1974. Since the 2000 election debacle Philip has written over 400 columns on the Military Industrial Empire and other facets of life in an upside down America. He is also host of the ‘ It’s the Empire… Stupid ‘ radio show, co produced by Chuck Gregory. Philip can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.