Allow me to paint a hypothetical scenario to cement a long fermenting idea of mine. First we need a person to start off the formula. Let's call this first piece of the puzzle Jerry.
Jerry is a weathered old man. At one time, however, Jerry was a declaration of health and vitality. Jerry knew this, and knew of somewhere he could put it into good use. So, one day, Jerry took a trip down to the local recruitment center, and soon was on his way to fight in the name of the colors of red, white, and blue.
It soon became apparent that Jerry was flourishing amongst his ranks, and he loved that his soldier's heart was being recognized and rewarded. Laboriously, Jerry steadily rose in the ranks until he was commanding others into battle, and they loved him for it. He was a shining beacon for others to emulate. Jerry's spirit was infectious, and it spread like wildfire amongst his people.
Then one day something decided to smother that fire. On that day, Jerry's destiny collided with the cruelty of the world when he stumbled across a lurking IED, and in turn, robbed him of one of his legs and also that precious vitality.
Jerry did his best to recover that spirit, in the days that he recuperated and grew accustomed to being only partially whole. For him, it was as if a sliver of his spirit had been dissolved away, and he soon began an achingly steady downward spiral.
When he returned to his past life, Jerry ran into many problems. He discovered for himself that same spirit and vitality he utilized wasn't sought after in the declining job market, and his handicap certainly didn't help matters, and after many hazy mornings combing over coffee mug rim stained classifieds in the local paper, Jerry was aimless. And, in this aimlessness, he moved in with his parents for a time, and they loved him. But love just wasn't enough for aimless Jerry, and he spiraled into a self reflective despair as he rolled the laces of his pair of battered track and field shoes between his fingers, his mind tumbling over the long gone days of feeling the asphalt underneath him. In time, Jerry could not bear the pitying love people looked at him with through their furrowed brows, and Jerry suddenly left with out a word.
We are greeted with a sobering sight. There is a ragged assembly line of souls bordering the sidewalk outside the town's local soup kitchen, and the doors are a few minutes away from opening to the lunch rush. We see a man roll up to the back of the line with his right wheelchair wheel dragging slightly from lack of proper lubrication, and there he waits silently for the afternoon's meal. In a few moments we find him with a tray in his lap as he propels himself towards the nearest table with the least amount of onlookers. Mechanically, we find this man spooning apple sauce into his mouth with a piece of crushed bread clenched in his other hand, all the while staring blankly at the speckled blue of the tray. There is a robotic sterility to his motions and his hunger.
He feels a faint tickle where the folded up pant leg is brushing against the grown over stump that was at one time his left leg, and he drops the piece of bread momentarily to scratch at the phantom itch. He continues like this until the last morsel is eaten and he drops his plate at the dishwasher window, and rolls towards the exit. He does not remember leaving the building, and rolling down the sidewalk towards his usual nook sandwiched between a sub shop and an ATM kiosk. He is in a routine, at this point; a routine that his routinely filled belly is accustomed to as he sits in his chair, disturbing his melancholia only to painfully reminisce. It had been a cold winter, and the sprinklings of a dark hue emanating from his coughing confirms what he already knows. He pulls his quilt tighter to his chin, and he thinks of the days of vitality. He thought of the laces on his old track and field shoes.
Thankfully, Jerry is fictional, yet his circumstances disturbingly ring true for many. Millions of people like Jerry face a deadly hand of cards in the form of unemployment, housing insecurity, and/ or lack of support for those who have been scarred by warfare and left to rot in the streets., As a most basic need, we fill their bellies to the best of our abilities, and we nourish them to a certain extent. But it is only a surface hunger we cater to, and it is making little gain. In the end, it fatigues me to even contemplate: how can we as a nation even hope to combat an epidemic like hunger if we can't even reign in the other injustices in our system? For Jerry, food only delayed the inevitable, and that rings true for millions in a similar situation.
Admittedly, I do see the efforts to change this. I applaud the charisma of organizations who employ the hungry in community garden efforts, and also the charity of those who dish out millions of meals to feed hungry families across the globe. Their humanity is not in question, yet their is an air of futility that permeates our atmosphere. In our morally tarnished society, with its hand wringing politicians and reign yanking mega corporations dictating the flow of life, abolishing hunger is sadly something that results from a chain reaction of other reforms. Despite our innovative ideas and best implementations, we are in need of a catalyst in the form of a societal revolt. And, to combat the symptom of hunger, we must collectively drain the disease of corruption from the nation's arteries, or else our efforts will forever remain fruitless, no matter how many hungry bellies we fill or gardens we sprout from any number of corners. For Jerry, we have failed him and countless others in feeding their hope and trust in the system that they fought to protect and glorify, and it's a hunger pang in which we unfortunately can't quell for them, at least not for a long while.
But I guess that's what makes us so stubbornly righteous; plowing ahead and patching up what we can and salvaging what's left over before the inevitable revolution.
No comments:
Post a Comment