Values and Priorities

May 28, 2017

It’s Memorial Day this week.  A year ago Donald Trump promised to take care of our veterans with the best care.  No More waiting lists.  Well, President it has been four months since you took office.  The veterans are waiting.  The VA, like Medicaid and Medicare, are too big and with too many rules.  That’s the problem with our system, including the VA.  We need to treat veterans and the disabled as individuals not statistics.  The President wants to cut Medicaid by eighteen billion, destroying the lives of disabled Americans.  We asked too much of people with disabilities with rules and waiting lists which will get longer.  It’s sad how we treat the disabled.  Most Americans want a tax cut to spend on junk like cell phones while making disabled people wait two or three years for something that they need to live.  You have big trouble.  We can build an useless wall and make missiles, but we can’t take care of the disabled.  Why?  Someday the President will hear about the author, who doesn’t give up and fights every day.  Maybe he will tweet about me.  Then I will be a known author.

It’s Mother’s Day .  Mom, I’m all right.  I’m a lonely man with a career.  Yes, I’m naughty.  If you were still here, you would kill me.  Working crazy hours, drinking, and fooling around.  Let’s just say that I’m a man now.  Sorry, mom.  I can hear you say, “Steven, stop it.” I want to do what I do and I want to do it now.  I’m a man, who tries to cook, grocery shop, and manage my money. Yesterday I had a book signing at Barnes & Noble.  People wanted my books and asked for an autograph.  Imagine that, Mom.  Life isn’t the same without you.  I miss you.   I eat like we used to even though my attendants don’t like it.  I have found where you bought my favorite ice cream and learned the price of food.  Food isn’t cheap.  Sometimes I want to join you.  I used to make fun of going to the farmers’ market, but I go myself to get vegetables.  I’m independent and well.  Thank you, Mom.

Work

May 11, 2017

This week I’m critiquing papers for a speech instructor at Madison College.  It will be one of the final times that I will “work” since the instructor is retiring soon.  The one hundred and fifty dollars will be nice in my checking account.  I will probably save it and buy more produce at the farmers’ market.  I won’t make money writing.  People like me don’t have careers. or jobs.  I’m just an amazing guy according to people.  I have started a new book.  I’m just a writer.  One day I will die and the only people who know what I did will be my family and the English people.  It doesn’t matter to me.  I’m the author.