Europe 85 Part IV

Tuesday September 17, 1985, 9:50 am, Hotel de Nevers, Paris
I had a wonderful evening last night wandering down Blvd St. Michel, Rue de la Huchette, across le petit pont, past Notre Dame, onto L’Ile de St. Louis, and on to le Rive Droit. I managed to get over my initial excitement, but I am still very happy to be here.

Breakfast this morning was interesting avec Madame. I met some other Americans – they are here for a year as exchange graduate students. The proprietaire told me that she was full tonight and I was a bit demoralized. [It occurred to me afterward that I didn’t pass muster as I spoke in English to the other Americans instead of using my French.  I think Madame did not like that. Oh well…] I managed to find another hotel, more expensive, but much nicer. I thought about combing the streets for a cheaper hotel, but what the fuck, I’m going to pamper myself. It’s approximately $15. Perhaps I should spring for a shower @$20 later in the week. Maintenant, je depart pour l’hotel d’Elysa.
 

Elysa-Hotel-Paris 

Tuesday, September 17, 1985, 4:50pm, Hotel Elysa, Paris

I am sitting on my little balcony overlooking rue Gay Lussac and Blvd St. Michel.  I am very tired. I walked all over the place today. I went out around noon, down to  la rue de la Huchette and got some Greek food – the French version of a gyro. (Now I think it was schwarma.) I walked along the Seine and crossed over near the Louvre and then down through the Tuilleries along the rue de Rivoli, making my way slowly to the American Express office to change my money.  L’Opera is right across the street.

I sauntered along rue de la Paix to Place Vendôme, St. Honoré and several other streets and back again to the Tuilleries where I watched some men play boules.

I had also been fantasizing about what it would be like to live here. It always hurts when one’s foolish fantasies come face to face with reality. This is a beautiful city and there is a lot of life here.  I would love to live here for a year or so. The reality is that there is nothing I could do here. Not even wait on tables since I haven’t mastered the language. Furthermore, I don’t know anyone and the loneliness would kill me.

I continued to walk angling toward St. Michel taking streets parallel to it once back on the Rive Gauche.  I got a little lost and had to check my map once, but otherwise my sense of direction has served me well. 

I ended up walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg which is right across St. Michel from my hotel. What a lovely place!  Many older people were out here playing chess or cards, or just sitting watching the world go by. The flowers and the fountains were gorgeous! 

On the rue St. Germain I stumbled across Les Deux Magots where Hemingway, Sartre, Camus and Picasso used to hang out. The café was crowded (as I am sure it is a tourist spot now) and a street magician was doing some tricks. I also walked down the rue Jacob where Benjamin Franklin lived when he first arrived in Paris. I really do like it here.

I am noticing that my attitude changes when I am tired. I start dreading using my French, I get lonely and eventually depressed. Blacks do not appear to constitute any kind of separate group here as they do in the States. I’ve also noticed that ethnic groups in general do not seem to congregate together a whole lot. Everyone seems to be “just here.” It’s so nice!  I guess I have watched the crowds enough for now. A nap is in order and then to find some dinner. I may also check out a bar if I can find one interesting.I would certainly appreciate some company.

Europe 85 Part III

Monday, September 16, 1985, 8:15pm, Hotel de Nevers, Paris

I’m here!!! I’m finally in Paris!  I can’t believe how excited I am! This is the feeling I expected when I first landed in London, but the opposite is what happened. Everything here is different.

To digress a bit. I got to  Charing Cross in time to make the 8:55am train but they were full for the Hovercraft, which I really wanted to experience. I debated about buying a ticket to Marseilles  but the price of £69 put me off. Perhaps I should have done it but instead I purchased a single to Paris via train/hovercraft for £35.45 which left at 10:15am. I got talking to another American while we were queued up. He and his wife are from Iowa (Bob and Jean Walters). We had a very pleasant conversation in line and on the train to Dover.  The English countryside (from the train) was not very attractive, but reasonably pleasant. I got to see the while cliffs of Dover (through the rain) and that was nice.

I thought the ride in the hovercraft would be an experience, and it was.  The sea was very rough with gale force winds. Almost everyone on board was seasick with about ¼ of us throwing up. The “stewardesses” were picking up barf bags like they were lunch trays.  I managed not to throw up but was quite sick nonetheless.  I broke out in a profuse cold sweat and my stomach did cartwheels. I just wanted to die. We also had to stop half way across the channel to rescue a man floating in some type of inner tube. Another passenger remarked to me that he had been in the British navy and had been on the high seas in bad weather but never experienced anything as sickening as this.

Arriving at Calais, I was so happy to be on French soil and a French train. The ride was smooth as glass. The countryside was every bit as picturesque and I had expected.  I watched people on the train platforms and they looked like normal people. The British all seemed to look British, even those of Indian, Asian, or African descent.  I was surprised to see blacks here and there in some of the small French towns.

I began to feel the excitement when I could see the very top of the Eiffel tower. No one in my car seems to have seen it but me. Then a short while later I saw what I thought was Sacre Coeur.  The next thing I knew we were in the Gare du Nord. I had to take a few minutes to orient myself to the Metro.  I found my way to the Boulevard St. Michel and headed up to Rue Gay Lussac where my guide book said there was a cheap hotel. When I realized that the hotel was farther than I wanted to walk, I took a look in my guide and found another place closer to where I was. There was no sign but people were entering it and talking with a woman I took to be the concierge or perhaps “la proprietaire.” There was a sign inside that said “Complet” which means full. I remembered Arthur Frommer saying to ask anyway, so I did. Just before I walked in another guy came by, saw the sign and left.  When I told the woman in my disastrous French that I had just arrived in Paris and asked if she had a room, she said “maybe’ and looked it up. During this exchange I told her about my terrible experience with the English and the trip across the channel. She asked me about the weather there etc. The next thing I knew I was walking up six flights to a room that only cost 78F sans douche ($9.75) including breakfast.

This room is perfect!! It’s small, only has a view of the building across the way (apt, I think), a lumpy double bed, a broken down wooden armoire, an unused marble fireplace, a tiny little writing table, 2 chairs, a sink, and the obligatory bidet. The WC is down the hall and as far as I can tell no bath.  I need to go out and buy a washcloth and soap. So what? I am as happy as a pig in shit! I am hungry and tired sitting here writing by the window. I just had to record this. (I forgot to mention that the streets are full of people. This city is alive!!! Not at all like London.)  I must go out and eat or I shall perish right here. At least I’d die happy.  [Hotel 78F san douche, Dinner 8F, cigarettes 6.95F (exchange rate 8F=$1)]

Europe 85 Part II

Sunday, September 15th, 1985, 11pm, South Kensington

I was up and out early this morning.  Breakfast here at the college was filling though less than delicious: cereal, poached egg, an undercooked sausage link, baked tomato, toast and coffee. I saw someone with bacon that appeared to be nearly raw. I was told that is the way they like it. Since I have not been here long I really haven’t had a chance to sample real British cooking. None of it sounds appetizing in the least. I ate Indian food which was fine, but it appears that the English don’t know how to cook. I don’t expect the same problem in France though I may have difficulty with the menus.

I took the tube to Tower Hill thinking that I would start East and work my way back toward Kensington. I found the Tower to be interesting. To see what essentially was a castle of sorts with a moat which was drained, and to realize how old parts of it were, impressed me with its durability.  The White Tower was built in 1089 - 900 years ago!

The Tower Bridge (which I believe many Americans think is the London Bridge) is a nice looking bridge, but that is all. What I was most impressed with were the remains of the original Londinium wall built for defense by the Romans around 200 AD. To consider the history that it has seen! Even to look at it and see where it was increased in height during Medieval times and to see that the Roman part was better constructed, fascinated me. I took two tiny pebbles from the mortar of the Roman part. One is obsidian-like and the other appears to be pink feldspar.

From the Tower, I walked along the Thames toward the monument commemorating the great fire of London September 3rd, 4th, & 5th, 1666. Much of old London was destroyed. The monument was built by Sir Christopher Wren who apparently spent considerable time planning and possibly financing many structures here in the city.

I boarded the tube at Monument and got off at Blackfriars and walked to St. Paul’s cathedral. Sir Christopher built this one after the fire also. Very beautiful in its own gaudy way. There was much in the way of gilt, mosaics and paintings. A number of famous people of their time are encrypted right inside the church. I also found it a bit commercialized. From there I walked to the Old Bailey.  Built in the late 1700s, I believe.  I could not really see much.

I proceeded to walk along Fleet Street and then the Strand to Charing Cross. From Charing Cross I walked down to Trafalgar Square on past Whitehall (the executive branch offices with 10 Downing St. nearby) to Westminster.  They were running the Westminster Mile as an international pro-am competition.  I missed the professional events but I did watch an amateur women’s open  that included Alice Bowden a 73 year old. I got a picture of her.

At Westminster I walked partly along the bridge to get a picture of Big Ben (They are cleaning it.) I find the bridges of London very manageable on a human scale. They are made to be walked across, and one could easily climb over the edge. It affords an intimacy with the river that I have never experienced before. A stroll along the Houses of Parliament (ugly dirty buildings), and a pause in a park along the Thames preceded my crossing over to St. Margaret’s and Westminster Abbey. 

 
St. Margaret’s is a small church in comparison to the Abbey, but much more intimate and certainly older. The original built in the 13th century is gone. The “new” church was built in 1520! Delightful and modest.

The Abbey is very dirty from pollution and not really a great thriller from the outside. There was a service going on inside so a tour was out, but I was able to stand inside. The vaulted ceilings with graceful curving arches were beautiful. Ingenious methods were used to assure adequate light. A stroll along the outer areas had me ambling along covered archways where many of the famous are buried. Certainly not a spellbinder but lovely none the less.

A short walk from the Abbey to Buckingham palace was a wasted walk.  The building is plain and ugly. Two bored guards stand outside in their silly outfits. there is a wall that extends around the grounds obscuring the view. I walked to Victoria Station and came back here.

Impressions:

I’ve already discussed the food!
Communications: I bought a Sunday Times as it is the only one that looked like a real newspaper. All the other papers look like hotbeds of yellow journalism. The Times was not very objective either and sensationalized several articles.
TV & Radio: Didn’t see or hear either unfortunately. I would have loved to.
Telephones: they could stand improvement. Many pay phones are out of order or don’t work well.
Language: It is interesting to note the differences between English and American. Accents aside, they use many different words or phrases that I am not used to. “Exit” means egress out of a building but not out of a passage such as the tube. In the tube the signs say “way out.” Perfectly understandable but different. Druggists or drug stores are “Chemists”, trucks are “lorries”, elevators are “lifts’ and apartments are “flats.”
Transportation: The tube is great and gets you where you want to go. Street signs for pedestrian or auto traffic are often on the sides of buildings when they exist at all. A map is essential because many streets aren’t marked. Intersections and road ways real jumble making DC appear very simple.

On a personal note my loneliness comes and goes. I'm yearning for companionship. It’ll be interesting to see what happens in Paris.

One of the disasters I feared came to pass today. Many times during the day, I had a strong urge to crap. I managed to psych myself into controlling it. Unfortunately, after dinner the urge overwhelmed me and I got as far as the door to the WC it all came out in a gush, making a colossal mess in my pants. I was so angry!  I spent the next hour washing my underwear and pants out in the sink.  Right now my pants are wrapped around a study light drying out. Gross. Needless to say I was disgusted with my own body.  I’ve popped 3 lomotils without results and have tried an immodium. Thank god I remembered to pack them! This entry has been interrupted several times to trips to the WC and I still don’t have the hang of flushing it correctly yet!

It is 1am and I should be asleep but I must re-pack and plan for tomorrow’s journey to Paris. [Cigarettes here are expensive. I paid £1.33 for a pack which is $1.86! Jesus at this rate I will have to quit.  I have got to do better with money. I am down to £20 out of the £66 I started with. ($93-->;$28)]

Europe '85 Part I

Europe '85 is a transcript of the journal I kept while traveling in Europe in 1985. Except for very minor editing, these entries are exactly the way I recorded them in a spiral bound notebook. I am a much different person now, and my writing style has changed. I was 32 when this trip was made. I will add pictures where appropriate. [My itinerary changed at the last moment as my charter flight to Amsterdam was canceled. My travel agent got me on a flight for London, but I did not get a chance to do my homework on London, so it was a hit or miss visit there.] Enjoy!

Saturday, September 14th, 1985, Over the Atlantic, 5:45am

We are somewhere over the Atlantic right now heading for London. My trip so far has been extremely pleasant and promising despite omens otherwise this morning.

I woke up at 10am later than I wanted to. I had stayed up until 5am hoping to fool my body so I could cope with jet lag. It didn’t work. I had many errands to run and still had to choose what clothes I was taking and pack.  Though Friday the 13th is usually a good day for  me, I began to worry after my first sortie out of the house this morning.

I went to the bank to deposit my long awaited tax refund check. Disaster of all disasters, I locked my keys in the car! I had to run home and break my kitchen window in order to get my extra keys. The potential for screwing up my trip threw me into a controlled panic. I did manage laugh at myself as I was running back to the house. Ironically, when I returned 2 hours later, Rev. Bennett next door, was climbing through his living room window as he and his wife had locked themselves out too. The rest of the morning was spent scurrying about doing last minute things (and buying a pane of glass). Amy arrived around 3pm and took me to Dulles.
 
The day was crisp and cool, sunny with a few clouds. It felt more like a day in October than one in the middle of September, especially after 95° heat last week and early this week.  I was surprised at myself for not being more anxious and thrilled about finally going on my great European tour. I don’t feel the anxiety or giddiness I might have felt if I were younger.

My seat mate on the plane has turned out to be a delightful woman of 55.  We started talking when she sat down and we have been talking all night.  She’s going to London on business and then spending a week for vacation.  After talking for quite a while we discovered that she is originally from Shippensburg and that my old landlady Mrs. Hall was a friend of her mother’s. Small world! Oh,  I forgot, her name is Rhea DiBenedetto.

Saturday, September 14th, 1985, 1:45pm,  British Geological Museum, London

I am near total exhaustion.  It is all I can do to stay awake for another 15 minutes.  After finally getting through customs which were surprisingly cursory, I got an explorer pass on the Underground. Rhea told me that I could get tickets to same day shows at Leicester Square.  I took the tube there since I had nowhere else to go and found the ticket kiosk but it did not open until 2pm and I was there at 9am. The weather was just what one would stereotype for England: cold and drizzly. Nothing was open around Leicester Square. It is London’s theater district but in many ways it reminded me of Greenwich Village in New York. I wandered around there for a while (with my bags) wondering how to go about getting a room. [It is now 2pm and I can check into my room. I will finish this later after I get some sleep!]

September 15th, 2:45am, South Kensington, London

To complete the above entry, I stopped at a tourist information center and got information regarding finding living space. I had to go to Victoria Station. The information center there booked me into a dormitory at the Imperial College at the University of London. [Hotel $17.80/night] I could not occupy my room until 2pm. I sat in the cold for an hour totally exhausted and became so miserable I walked down the road to a couple of museums which were warm and even interesting to my sleep deprived mind. I wrote the above entry at the Geological Museum.

I came to my room and immediately went to sleep. I had set my alarm so that I could go out and get a ticket for Mousetrap playing downtown.  When the alarm went off, I rolled over and went back to sleep.  I finally got up, cleaned up and decided to investigate a bit of the nightlife.  Since the tube stops running at midnight, I had to hurry.

I found a pub at Leicester Square and chatted with a very nice guy there named Neville.  We talked for a while and I encouraged him to accompany me or lead me about.  He suggested a dance bar which we walked to.[Cover £8] It was nice to have some company.

First Day Impressions:

Heathrow was a madhouse! Thousands of travelers disembarking nearly all at the same time (7am) and scrambling for customs, money exchanges, baggage pick up etc. The tube reminds me of NY’s subway without the graffiti.  The cars seem smaller where headroom is concerned. Arriving in Leicester Square exhausted in the cold rain was not the best way to have a first impression. Much like Greenwich Village with small side streets and little parks there were also the theaters which added a 42nd street air. That early on a Saturday morning there were few people about and fewer places open. I really didn’t know where to go so I wandered the streets toward Piccadilly where I found the tourist center.

London, when one is cold tired and wet, is a city like most others.  I looked around and saw dirty decaying buildings. I did not feel like there was anything very foreign here.  The cars seem to be on the “wrong side” of the street and the accent is different. ( I hear myself imitating the accent in my head but I will never let it cross my lips here.) British men have the appearance of being somewhat effeminate by American standards.

Neville and I got along reasonably well but it made me aware that I was a bit lonely. I feel that loneliness now and wonder if it will be my constant companion on this trip. I have doubts that this trip may not have been a good idea.  A fear lurks in the back of my mind that I will run out of money. I decided on this trip as a means of a challenge – to build my self-confidence and as a way of breaking patterns that were hampering my growth.  I hope I don’t end up breaking myself.

Friday Nostalgia

A friend in California posted a link today to a song by the incomparable Johnny Mathis.  It brought back so many memories of childhood when my mom would play Johnny's albums.  What a consummate singer!

A terrific voice, sensuous phrasing and superb diction! A "pure" singer and an example of the best there is. What a joy to listen to. So many wonderful memories associated with Johnny!

I just spent the last hour listening to his wonderful magic! I think I fell in love with him when I was just a kid. Thanks Bob!

Just listen  and remember.....

The River Meets the Bay

It was really much too warm for a day in early April.  Marcia and I started from her house in Takoma Park and zoomed up I-95 toward Havre de Grace, Maryland.  Temperatures were climbing into the high 80s and we actually had to put the air conditioning on in the car.

We exited I-95 at route 155 and headed northwest away from Havre de Grace.  Once when I was very young, my dad took us on a Sunday ride down to the Conowingo dam. Since he worked for the Philadelphia Electric Company who owned the dam, he wanted to see it. I have very vague recollection of that drive. I thought the area around it would make a nice day trip.

As we wound our way along the rural road we turned off for a spell to check out Susquehanna State Park. There along the banks of the river we found an old grist mill. A long forgotten rail line lay in ruins in the brush along the water’s edge.  This was a remnant of the rail line that supplied the builders of the dam in the late 1920s.  High on the hill behind us was the home of a Civil War officer who resigned as a Union officer to take up arms with the Confederacy. It was a warm peaceful Spring day. Perfect!

Marsh brought her binoculars and scanned the area for any interesting sights, including the bald eagles that have been seen in the area. Though we didn’t spot any eagles,  in the middle of the Susquehanna we found plenty of cormorants crowded together on rocks like theater goers waiting in the lobby for the show to begin. 

Winding back up the small two lane road we headed toward Route 1 where we  crossed the river atop the dam. (Conowingo is a Susquehannock word for "at the rapids". )  I thought perhaps the sight of the dam would bring back a memory from that Sunday ride so long ago, but alas it was all pretty new to me. The dam itself is not terribly impressive, though at the time of its completion in 1928 it was the second largest hydroelectric project by power output in the United States, with Niagara Falls being the largest.

As we drove across the dam we got a great view of the river downstream and the lake upstream. We could not stop on the dam but we were able to pull off the road on the northeastern shore where we saw many gulls and other birds near the base of the dam scanning for the remains of fish chewed up coming through the spillway.

Traveling south on route 222 we skirted the northern bank of the river until we entered the town of Port Deposit. This very small town with the river only 200-300 yards away, has a long history. The area was first noted by Capt. John Smith in the 1600s. Port Deposit is the northernmost deep water port at the head of the Chesapeake Bay.  The Susquehanna is a shallow river that originates in western New York state. Goods from all along its route were brought to Port Deposit by rafts called Susquehanna Arks. The raw materials were then offloaded and transferred to ships bound for various ports. And that is how the town got its name. http://www.portdeposit.com/History/PastistheFuture.htm

Port Deposit is also known for its blue granite quarry. It is believed that some of the blue granite was used in the construction of Ft. McHenry.

This small quaint village of 900 people is just a fly speck along the river now. It certainly struck Marcia and I as a town that time forgot.

Continuing on down route 222 we wound our way through Perryville and across the Rte 40 bridge over the mouth of the Susquehanna where it enters the Chesapeake Bay, to the town of Havre de Grace.  Havre de Grace has history dating back to the Revolutionary war.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havre_de_Grace,_Maryland

After browsing a used bookstore (and me buying 4 more books on Ancient Rome) we sauntered up the street to an antique store and quietly looked at the various items there. Lunch outside by the river was a joy after this winter’s epic snowfalls. After lunch we searched out the local home made ice cream store only to find it would not be open for the season for another week.  We settled for chocolate at the candy emporium.  

A jaunt down to the lighthouse and a walk along the promenade with its cool bay winds was a refreshing way to wind down the day. Part of the promenade crosses a wetland area where we spotted a turtle and many ducks. Mother nature was all around us at this junction of the noble Susquehanna and the mighty Chesapeake Bay. It was a great way for two old friends to share the warm Spring weather and the  pleasure of each other’s company.

Who Am I? - Guest Blog by JoAnne Bower

Today once again I am trying something new.  My dear friend JoAnne (we've known each other for more than 40 years) is a very thoughtful and passionate writer.  Like me she is discovering that when things strongly affect us, catharsis comes from writing. So today I am sharing something timely that JoAnne has given me permission to share with you.

Who Am I?

As someone who’s become increasingly disturbed by the current polarization in our country and the fear, hatred, bias and stereotyping being hurled back and forth on all sides, I thought I’d invent a new game. Feel free to share it, ignore it, play along or send me your own version. It’s called “Who Am I?” And since it’s my game, I get to go first.

So who am I?

I’m a 58-year-old single white heterosexual female.

I was born in Philadelphia and for the last 50 years have lived in its inner-ring suburbs.

I am self-supporting, having worked part-time for the four years I was in college and full-time for the 37 years since then.

I was raised in the Lutheran church, including Sunday school and singing in the choir every week.

If I could sum up my philosophy of life in one sentence, it would be “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.

I love America and am proudly patriotic. I don’t just respect our troops, I’m in awe of their courage and devotion. I cry every time I hear “Taps” or “Eternal Father, Strong to Save” at a military funeral, and get goose bumps when I hear a Sousa march on the Fourth of July. I sing the National Anthem at any event it’s played at and know ALL the words, not just the first verse. I was once so overwhelmed by the glorious sight of the flag flying against the clear blue sky over the U.S. Capitol that I almost burst into tears. And I doubt that any experience in the world can make you feel more deeply American than watching the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington Cemetery.

I strongly believe in the sanctity of marriage and that the erosion of the family unit over the last several decades is at the root of many of the ills currently plaguing our society.

I have a strong sense of personal responsibility. Except for an unfortunate tendency to drive too fast, I’m a pretty boringly law-abiding citizen who thinks we need tougher penalties and stricter law enforcement in many areas. After wrestling with the death penalty argument most of my life, I finally came down against it, though will freely admit there are far too many cases in today’s society that tempt me to switch back.

I actually enjoy the responsibility of jury duty as much as I do the right to vote on Election Day. I wish every American took the same interest in both.

Speaking of voting, I’ve never missed a November election and only a handful of local primaries. And I’ve voted for at least one Democrat, Republican and Independent candidate for U.S. President.

I oppose abortion on demand and think it should be reserved for very rare cases like where the life of the mother is in danger. At the same time, I feel that any discussion of abortion should be preceded by every effort possible to reduce unwanted pregnancies in the first place – you know, that personal responsibility thing again.

I listen to neither Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow nor Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh. Basically, I’m too cheap to get cable. But I don’t watch the network Sunday morning talk shows, either, so maybe I just like to think for myself and make up my own mind on the issues.

I’m not much of an intellectual. My college degree was in liberal arts from a small state teacher’s college in a conservative part of Pennsylvania, and I somehow managed to graduate without ever taking a course in psychology or philosophy. I’m old-fashioned enough to still prefer print newspapers and magazines to the Internet, and while I’m an avid book reader, I tend to read far more romantic suspense novels and political or medical thrillers than I do biographies, history, or anything else particularly edifying. TV? I’m a “Jeopardy” addict and watch a fair amount of stuff on PBS, but I’m just as often glued to “American Idol”, “Dancing With the Stars” and (okay, I’ll admit it) “The Bachelor”. (Though I do draw the line at “Wife Swap”).

My car radio is usually on one of two local country music stations, though my real favorite music is the WWII-era stuff. My CD collection ranges from Patsy Cline to Nat King Cole and from Queen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

I think Starbucks’ mocha-latte-foamy-cappuccino crap sucks and would rather have a $1.29 real cup of coffee from Wawa any day. I drink cheap boxed wine from American vineyards. I love old diners and hate pretentious French restaurants.

I not only “never inhaled” marijuana, I can’t stand to be within a hundred yards of it.

Though I love Pennsylvania, if I could live in any other state, it would be Alaska.

I’ve never been to Europe, but have been to 47 of our 50 states.

If I only had one day to spend in Washington, D.C., it would be spent at Arlington Cemetery, the National Cathedral and Ford’s Theater.

I’m middle class, and while I’ll probably never fully achieve “the American Dream”, I consider myself blessed to live in the country where I have at least had the opportunity to try.

So…….enough background; time to take the quiz. Am I:

a) A moderate Democrat

b) A moderate Republican

c) A Libertarian

d) An Independent

e) A Compassionate Conservative

f) A member of the Tea Party movement

Time’s up – and if you answered any of the above, you’re wrong. Sorry, it was a trick question, and I left out a few details:

I’m also a born-again atheist, or at least an agnostic. While I make a fervent effort to respect others’ religious beliefs, I practice no organized religion myself.

I’m a committed tree-hugger who can’t believe that otherwise rational people can still claim global warming is just a hoax.

I support gay marriage and adoptions.

While I support the right to own guns, I’ll never understand the overwhelming NEED to in this country. Or why the NRA objects so strenuously to even the slightest regulation of them.

Oh, and that overwhelming feeling of patriotism I felt at the flag flying over the Capitol? I was at a huge protest against the war in Iraq at the time.

I don’t think the recent healthcare reform bill went far ENOUGH.

And yes, I not only voted for President Obama, I spent endless hours campaigning for him and would do so again in a heartbeat.

So NOW who am I? I’ll give you some more options this time:

g) A liberal Democrat

h) A Socialist

i) A Marxist

j) A left-wing lunatic whack job

Okay, time’s up again – and too bad, but if you picked any of the above, you’re STILL wrong.

So who am I?

I’m an American.

That’s all I am. That’s all you are. And if that’s the only thing we have in common, it’s also the only thing we NEED to have in common.

And it’s no game. It’s becoming deadly serious.

So stop with the labels already. Stop the name-calling. Stop the hate.

Start acting like Americans.

Because it’s not really “Who Am I?”…… it’s “Who Are WE?”

© 2010. JoAnne Bower

Health Insurance Mandate – Is it Constitutional?

No sooner had health care reform been signed into law than several states’ attorneys filed suit to have the law declared unconstitutional on the grounds that the federal government cannot force a citizen to purchase a private commercial insurance product.

My first reaction was “Oh here we go another tactic to stall or thwart reform!” I do believe that is the intent. However, my second thought, born of the Libertarian side of me, was “Well, I suppose they have a point.”


Why should someone who does not want health insurance be forced by the government to purchase a private commercial product? There is certainly no provision for this in the Constitution. I should not have to buy something I don’t want . This is a good argument but limited in scope.

But those backing this tactic have not thought this idea through. Their logic says that I can refuse to buy insurance as my right. OK. But what happens when the time comes that I need health care? (Note I said “when”, not “if.” Barring unfortunate accidents, all of us at some point in our lives will require care.) Will the providers (doctors, hospitals, ambulance services) have the right to deny me care because I was too obstinate or cheap to pay for insurance? No. The current Emergency Medical Treatment and Active Labor Act (EMTALA) law requires all hospital and ambulance services to provide emergency care to anyone regardless of citizenship, legal status or ability to pay. There are no reimbursement provisions.

Individuals can refuse to buy insurance but providers are not afforded the right to refuse to offer care even though they will not be reimbursed. What’s to stop all of us from refusing to carry insurance and then just showing up at the hospital when we need care? Let someone else pay for it! Who? All of us pay through taxes and/or higher insurance premiums for those who won’t buy.

So our friends the states’ attorneys are telling us that we don’t have to buy insurance, and that if we don’t, the public will pay for our care if we need it. This is illogical and inconsistent. And it is what we have had until last week.

If our states’ attorneys think it is unconstitutional to force individuals to provide for their own care, then logically it should be unconstitutional for the hospitals and ambulances to be required to render those services unless the affected person can prove that they have insurance or other resources to pay for their care. How can the government force the private sector to pay for an individual? The states’ attorneys should also be suing to free providers of health services (and ultimately the public) from this unfair burden.

Our society decided through the EMTALA law of 1986 that no one should be refused emergent care. Doesn’t it seem logical then that we should attach a duty to that privilege and require that everyone who may benefit contribute for their own and the greater good?

The logical alternative would be not to require you to have private insurance, and abolish EMTALA in fairness to providers and the public. Then when the ambulance arrives and finds you have no insurance, they can drive away, secure in the knowledge that they are following the law. And you will lie in the street and die with all of your Constitutional rights intact.