Paul Lester Photo

Imagine holding a piece of paper containing your name, address, and other personal information. You’ve seen such pieces of paper hundreds of times. Now, imagine that this paper contained a diagnosis that said that you have less than 6 months to live.

I held such a paper today. Fortunately, my name was not at the top. Unfortunately, someone else’s name was. Today was my first day as a hospice volunteer. I met with my new friend, let’s call him James. Of course, this is not his real name, just one that I picked out to make this a little more personal.

James was born in the 1930′s, served in the armed services for a while, likes chili, has had some interesting jobs throughout his life. He’s been robbed at gunpoint, raised children, and is now trying to raise a grandchild with his wife, but as he is for the most part bedridden, there isn’t anything that he can do to help out.

He’s a very friendly man. He used to take pictures in dance halls, or clubs, and sell them for $1.25 each to help put food on the table. He’s traveled across the country by train. I asked him if he ever read while he was on the train. “No! I didn’t want to miss any of the sights as the train moved down the track. Not one!”. Ironically, James lost his sight in 2001 and is now completely blind, yet, he seems to be in decent spirits and certainly is cordial. Our conversation was punctuated by periods of silence. I had been told that he would talk if encouraged and I found this to be true, but I also found that there was some comfort in the silence. Not all silence needs to be obliterated … something that I try to teach my boys, but they don’t understand that just yet.

Now, back to that paper. It’s an important paper, but it’s just an estimate. We all know that we are going to die; it’s inevitable. What we don’t know is when AND we assume that it will be later rather than sooner, so we put things off. We hold grudges. We make priorities of things that are of little consequence, like talking about whether or not a D3x is better than an M9. I didn’t feel sorry for James, but more so for his children who, for whatever reason, are not there to help him in his hour of need. Certainly, I cannot judge his children as I don’t know anything about this family or about anything that went on before, but I can ask, at this time, is it worth it? I’ve never walked a mile in their shoes.

No. I’m not going to get all serious on you every day. Life is about fun, or at least that’s what I think! However, there are those serious moments that cause a bit of reflection.

Anyway, I don’t have a lot to say about it. I guess that I never expected this to have such a large impact on the first day. I’m looking forward to returning, bringing a book to read to him, some chili, and some companionship. Everyone deserves it, no matter what.

This weekend I spent a good deal of time looking at various photo essays having to do with foreclosures and the current economic crisis in the U.S. After a while, I became numb to the message because it was so repetitious. It seemed as everyone were jumping on the same bandwagon: This current economic downturn inordinately affected the lower class and the government is not doing anything about it. I saw an almost endless stream photos of houses that have obviously been abandoned for years and years. These houses and their stories had nothing to do with the current economic crisis.

Specifically, I watched two photos essays by Magnum photographer, Bruce Gliden: Detroit: The Troubled City and Foreclosures. Both of them bordered on serious propaganda, IMHO, but I would guess that they reflected his (political) view of what was going on in America. These were not the only two that I viewed. However, I don’t think that the ones that I viewed were representative of the general population. There are more than poor folks that are affected.

I guess that my family would be classified as middle to upper middle class. We certainly live in a middle class neighborhood. I can think of 4 houses right around my street that have been abandoned and subsequently foreclosed upon. One of the neighbors I knew on a first name basis. The others I did not know, but the houses are still in good shape and have sat for quite a while with ‘bank auction’ signs or sheriff notices posted on them as having been abandoned; however, those don’t make such a good story as the big bad corporation taking advantage of the poor, the black, the undereducated, the foreigner, the downtrodden, etc.

Perhaps, though, it is simply me looking down from my ivory tower and not seeing what is truly happening. But, I think that it affects many more people than are being represented by photo and video essays that I’ve seen and that it is going to take a lot more than billions of tax dollars to make things right.