I was just reading a friend's blog post about "Food Stamps" (or as we call it now, the "Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program" [SNAP])," and apparently there is real talk of extending SNAP benefits to cover fast food restaurants (See Write On, Jana!). The logic here is that "Fast food costs less than 'real' food," an argument that I am no longer willing to swallow. There are already restrictions on what a person can buy while using government assistance, and I can see both sides of the coin. On the one hand, people should be primarily free to eat what they want in a free society. On the other hand, if they are receiving public assistance, there should be some regulations that insure that the money is being used as it was intended (not on cigarettes and beer, for example).
I humbly suggest that, if making educated and perhaps mildly inconvenient choices, people can eat nutritious, whole foods with their food stamp allowances.
Here's what I cannot wrap my head around. According to the SNAP website, my family would receive approximately $566 per month if we needed food assistance. I currently spend up to (on the high end) $200 on groceries per trip--I generally go twice a month--and then extra on an as needed basis for things needed more often, like milk and juice. The way I see it, $566 per month and we would eat like kings; and anyone who knows me knows that I have become a food snob and that I choose whole, organic foods whenever it is in the budget. So maybe what people need is not access to buy fast food with SNAP benefits, but education on how to shop more wisely.
I can see potential drawbacks. I am fortunate enough to have reliable transportation (at least for now...cross fingers) and gas money. I still have credit should I absolutely need to charge a car repair or gasoline in a pinch. So I can afford to drive 10 miles to Trader Joe's for several things, drive back toward home and stop at Target and Aldi, and trot up the street to the local healthy food place to pick up some local produce. I have access to a seasonal program called "City Fresh" here in my town where families who qualify for food assistance get organic CSA shares for half price. I can get free food once a month at the local produce distribution in my neighborhood. Not everyone has those advantages. Maybe they have fewer choices than I do.
But maybe instead of trying to come up with quick ways to pump more calories into the economically disadvantaged, we need to be asking a different question: How do we help those without regular, reliable transportation get where they need to go to feed their families in the most nutritious way possible with the least amount of expense? Or better yet, can we find a way to bring the food closer to them? I know my husband's grandmother, who lives in Toledo, Ohio, uses a service for the elderly where a van comes and picks her up and takes her shopping around town for several hours on a particular day of the week. I acknowledge that she does have to spend a couple of dollars to use this service. Is it too much to suggest offering transportation as part of the SNAP program? Perhaps even child care services for parents to make their shopping trips quicker and easier? Yeah, I know. Everything in this country is contingent on the ol' "dollars and cents" argument. I have a few radical leftist ideas about the country's budget, but that would be a digression and is best saved for another post.
And if we're going to talk about how to best appropriate taxpayer money, let's consider that unhealthy food choices lead to poor health and disease, which lead to more people needing expensive medical care. The poor have a couple of choices. They can choose not to get the medical care they need--which should not have to be ANYBODY'S choice in a country as rich as the United States--or they can choose to get said medical care and just not pay for it when the bill arrives. The latter case means higher health care and insurance costs for everyone else because those industries have to make up for their losses somewhere. So if you're against universal health care because you don't want to pay for other people's doctor bills, think again; you already are. Over the long term, helping people make healthy food purchases is more economical for everyone when we consider the high cost of being sick in this country. And really, let's just have a heart for a minute and ponder the idealistic notion that you can't put a price on the health and well-being of a fellow human.
In the end, it all comes down to choices. We can choose to keep buying Ho-Hos because they are $3.50 per box, or we can spend that $3.50 on a 3 lb bag of organic apples instead, and we'd be no worse for the wear. In fact, we'd be less hungry in the long run because most junk food contains ingredients that just make us more hungry, make our food cravings stronger, than if we were making healthier choices. Once the cycle of soda and sugary snacks is broken, the new food habits are pretty easy to maintain. Maybe this means that the family doesn't get to eat red meat very often, or that cheese becomes a luxury rather than a necessity. Eating less meat and dairy--the two most costly food expenses, in my opinion--wouldn't really hurt most people. Maybe the kids' idea of an awesome lunch does not boil down to raw almond butter on whole wheat, some carrots, and a banana, but... (1) They'll get used to it; my kids regularly beg for carrots now to the point that I can barely keep them stocked in the house (note--$2 for a 3 lb bag). And (2) If the family can't afford the luxury of letting the kids buy pizza and ice cream every day in the cafeteria (which is exactly what my kids do if I let them buy their lunches), well, kiddos, that's just life. I don't get to eat king crab legs, and you don't get to have school pizza. We all make sacrifices; Few of us die martyrs to the cause.
Friday, September 30, 2011
A Day at the Zoo; or, "Why the Amish Have it Right and the Rest of Us Are Idiots"
I shall begin by telling you that I really don't like going to the zoo. It's not that I dislike animals; I have just never gotten any real pleasure out of walking around on hard pavement all day staring at animals in cages. Okay, I admit that once or twice I have gotten a laugh out of seeing the orangutans "get it on," or watching 4 monkeys take a poo simultaneously (for real). But as an overall rule, I kind of loathe going to the zoo.
Somehow I have given birth to a couple of kids who love the zoo.
So I suck it up and I take them to the zoo. It's a nice day, and Boy Scouts and their siblings and parents get in free. (But not until they go thru a series of lessons on how to sell more popcorn for the Boy Scouts--cheap move there.) I'm tired this weekend, I have a lot of grading to do, I have 4 cabbages that need turned into sauerkraut or something before they rot, I have a 25 lb bag of beets that I need to dehydrate into chips or something before they start to sprout, and I actually feel a little sick. I also have $3.79 left in my checking account, I don't get paid until Friday, and I barely have enough gas to get to and from work two days this week (luckily Rosh Hashanah means I get three days off). But you know, parents make sacrifices.
What I am trying to tell you is that I really didn't want to go to the zoo.
So we get there and the first thing the kids do is ask for an Icee. Let me take that back. Talia asks for an Icee. Gavin doesn't ask for anything. He just drops hints that he wants something. (e.g. "I sure am thirsty, Mom.") This is before I realize that I only have $3.79 in my checking account, so I go to the Icee kiosk--I figure I can spare the cash since getting in was free and all--and I make the attempt to purchase two blue Icees. I hand over the debit card. "We only take cash here." I'm screwed. So I tell the kids we will have to wait for another time, and Gavin is really good about it, disappointed as he was, but Talia--oh, Talia. She's telling me it's my fault, that I'm mean, she's crying and throwing herself at my feet. Now keep in mind that I am already (a) not feeling well, (b) feeling like I *should* be home doing school work, and (c) crabby because I hate the zoo. I probably sound like a real bitch the way I am dealing with her, when over comes this Amish girl, maybe 18 or so, and she asks, "Would you let us buy them for you?"
I'm a little floored. At first I decline, then I accept. My kid doesn't deserve to have her behavior rewarded, but here's this nice Amish family (who is smart enough to use cash instead of electronic transfers, by the way) trying to help me, and I figure, well, I'd better not insult them, and really, they are about to make my life a little easier. I accept. Gavin asks me if they are from the 1800's. Funny you should ask that, Gavin....
This experience prompts me to think about a few things.
The zoo was flooded with Amish people today, and I did not hear one of them snap at their children. I did not see one of them looking rushed or agitated. I did not see any of their kids running around like little jerks or acting like spoiled brats.
And as I was trying to explain what I know of their way of life to my son, I started to ponder the way we live.
We are rushed all the time. We are working all the time. Examples? Today (a Saturday, mind you) as I was entering essay grades on our school's online gradebook, I noticed that there is an iPad app that teachers can download so they can enter grades anytime, anywhere. And I think, "Why would I want to be able to work ALL THE TIME, from ANYWHERE?" It reminds me of my dad coming here for vacation and always having his cell phone ring, always being on his laptop, working while he's supposed to be resting.
If I didn't have to work full time (plus, when you consider the hours I put in from home)... if my family lived together and we were all able to help each other (in fact, if my family were all nice to each other at the very least)... if I didn't have to worry about paying ridiculous rates for insurance, or about covering the stupid cell phone bill... if I didn't have a car for which I had to buy gas, if I didn't have to worry about when it is going to finally die on me... if I had the time to pay attention to my kids the way they deserve... if I weren't so stressed out from the ways of modern life that I felt on the verge of sickness and exhaustion all the time... would I be more like those Amish people? Would I stop snapping at my kids, would I stop seeing the glass as half empty, would I stop needing to take Wellbutrin to stay sane, Ambien to fall asleep, and Ativan to keep me from going into a panic?
I can sew. I'll wear the damn plain clothes and spend my days tending vegetables and canning seasonal fruits. Gavin would look cute in suspenders. I'm quick with languages--bring on the Pennsylvania Dutch. I could do that if it meant that I didn't have to live every moment of my life as if impending doom were around the corner, if it meant that I could be with people who believed in living as a true community, if it meant slowing down and just breathing. Heck, I'd even go to church every Sunday and read the Bible to the kids.
Tonight before they went to bed, I told the kids they need to remember those Amish people ALWAYS. They need to remember that those people were kind to complete strangers, that they owed nothing to any of us. And I told my kids that those people are good people, and I want them to grow up to be good people, too.
How big is the price of modern convenience?
I don't know for sure--but I can tell you that I, and my family, are paying it. With interest.
Somehow I have given birth to a couple of kids who love the zoo.
So I suck it up and I take them to the zoo. It's a nice day, and Boy Scouts and their siblings and parents get in free. (But not until they go thru a series of lessons on how to sell more popcorn for the Boy Scouts--cheap move there.) I'm tired this weekend, I have a lot of grading to do, I have 4 cabbages that need turned into sauerkraut or something before they rot, I have a 25 lb bag of beets that I need to dehydrate into chips or something before they start to sprout, and I actually feel a little sick. I also have $3.79 left in my checking account, I don't get paid until Friday, and I barely have enough gas to get to and from work two days this week (luckily Rosh Hashanah means I get three days off). But you know, parents make sacrifices.
What I am trying to tell you is that I really didn't want to go to the zoo.
So we get there and the first thing the kids do is ask for an Icee. Let me take that back. Talia asks for an Icee. Gavin doesn't ask for anything. He just drops hints that he wants something. (e.g. "I sure am thirsty, Mom.") This is before I realize that I only have $3.79 in my checking account, so I go to the Icee kiosk--I figure I can spare the cash since getting in was free and all--and I make the attempt to purchase two blue Icees. I hand over the debit card. "We only take cash here." I'm screwed. So I tell the kids we will have to wait for another time, and Gavin is really good about it, disappointed as he was, but Talia--oh, Talia. She's telling me it's my fault, that I'm mean, she's crying and throwing herself at my feet. Now keep in mind that I am already (a) not feeling well, (b) feeling like I *should* be home doing school work, and (c) crabby because I hate the zoo. I probably sound like a real bitch the way I am dealing with her, when over comes this Amish girl, maybe 18 or so, and she asks, "Would you let us buy them for you?"
I'm a little floored. At first I decline, then I accept. My kid doesn't deserve to have her behavior rewarded, but here's this nice Amish family (who is smart enough to use cash instead of electronic transfers, by the way) trying to help me, and I figure, well, I'd better not insult them, and really, they are about to make my life a little easier. I accept. Gavin asks me if they are from the 1800's. Funny you should ask that, Gavin....
This experience prompts me to think about a few things.
The zoo was flooded with Amish people today, and I did not hear one of them snap at their children. I did not see one of them looking rushed or agitated. I did not see any of their kids running around like little jerks or acting like spoiled brats.
And as I was trying to explain what I know of their way of life to my son, I started to ponder the way we live.
We are rushed all the time. We are working all the time. Examples? Today (a Saturday, mind you) as I was entering essay grades on our school's online gradebook, I noticed that there is an iPad app that teachers can download so they can enter grades anytime, anywhere. And I think, "Why would I want to be able to work ALL THE TIME, from ANYWHERE?" It reminds me of my dad coming here for vacation and always having his cell phone ring, always being on his laptop, working while he's supposed to be resting.
If I didn't have to work full time (plus, when you consider the hours I put in from home)... if my family lived together and we were all able to help each other (in fact, if my family were all nice to each other at the very least)... if I didn't have to worry about paying ridiculous rates for insurance, or about covering the stupid cell phone bill... if I didn't have a car for which I had to buy gas, if I didn't have to worry about when it is going to finally die on me... if I had the time to pay attention to my kids the way they deserve... if I weren't so stressed out from the ways of modern life that I felt on the verge of sickness and exhaustion all the time... would I be more like those Amish people? Would I stop snapping at my kids, would I stop seeing the glass as half empty, would I stop needing to take Wellbutrin to stay sane, Ambien to fall asleep, and Ativan to keep me from going into a panic?
I can sew. I'll wear the damn plain clothes and spend my days tending vegetables and canning seasonal fruits. Gavin would look cute in suspenders. I'm quick with languages--bring on the Pennsylvania Dutch. I could do that if it meant that I didn't have to live every moment of my life as if impending doom were around the corner, if it meant that I could be with people who believed in living as a true community, if it meant slowing down and just breathing. Heck, I'd even go to church every Sunday and read the Bible to the kids.
Tonight before they went to bed, I told the kids they need to remember those Amish people ALWAYS. They need to remember that those people were kind to complete strangers, that they owed nothing to any of us. And I told my kids that those people are good people, and I want them to grow up to be good people, too.
How big is the price of modern convenience?
I don't know for sure--but I can tell you that I, and my family, are paying it. With interest.
Out of Time
Americans eat crap and don't exercise because they ran out of time. They ran out of time because we live in the kind of society where we are expected to work ourselves silly to live in an overpriced culture where we are offered very little social support structure. I must have spent two hours in the kitchen today between making dinner and tomorrow's lunches. I could have heated some chicken nuggets, or bought a $5 pizza at Little Caesars, or boiled up some Hebrew Nationals (you know, the hot dog that masquerades around as if it were good for you), but instead I chose to make real, whole food from scratch. This was after I spent 1.25 hours driving home from work beause every single expressway on my way home was stop and go traffic--probably the result of more people going and getting themselves in a darn hurry...probably over something that's not even all that important in the grand scheme of things. And now I am too tired (and it's kinda late) for any kind of physical activity. For all the healthy food I eat, I feel the stress belly growing anyway. I have said it once and I'll say it again--I don't know how stay home parents can get bored unless they are feeding their kids fast food every day and/or have the money to hire a maid. My house hasn't had a thorough cleaning in months. My desires are few. I want a healthy family, daily yoga, someone to give my house a good, deep cleaning once a week, time for leisure reading, someone to deal with the bills for me, and pedicures. I've never had a pedicure and I think I deserve one.
My kids don't get the attention they deserve because I am always running out of time. Either they are getting away with all kinds of videocy so that I can get my school work done in peace, or I am blowing off school work so that I can be a real mom and do something with my kids. Tonight, feeling guilty that we haven't read a bedtime story in three weeks, I suckered Gavin into reading a story to his sister while I sat here in the dining room making a graphic illustration explaining Hemingway's Code Hero. I justify it this way--he's getting practice reading, she's getting the attention from him that she wants, and I am preparing for my next day of teaching. Multitasking, everyone is happy, right?
Time turns me into a nervous wreck. Either I'm too far behind, or I'm worrying myself silly about something that may or may not happen in the distant future, or I feel like I am running just behind the eight ball.
Time gives people heart attacks and strokes and indigestion and digestive diseases. It gives us mood disorders for which we buy pills just to keep ourselves moderately sane and moving right along so that, God forbid, we don't lose a day of work (that one day that just might help us recuperate) because someone else needs us to make them some money. So their wives can go to yoga and get pedicures and hire Alice to cook and clean for their kids.
You may see a trend emerging--my jealousy of stay-at-home-parents. In the seventies, Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem wanted us ladies to feel as if we had somehow been liberated by the women's rights movement. I say we've only succeeded in trapping us into more work and responsibility than we had before we were "liberated."
My kids don't get the attention they deserve because I am always running out of time. Either they are getting away with all kinds of videocy so that I can get my school work done in peace, or I am blowing off school work so that I can be a real mom and do something with my kids. Tonight, feeling guilty that we haven't read a bedtime story in three weeks, I suckered Gavin into reading a story to his sister while I sat here in the dining room making a graphic illustration explaining Hemingway's Code Hero. I justify it this way--he's getting practice reading, she's getting the attention from him that she wants, and I am preparing for my next day of teaching. Multitasking, everyone is happy, right?
Time turns me into a nervous wreck. Either I'm too far behind, or I'm worrying myself silly about something that may or may not happen in the distant future, or I feel like I am running just behind the eight ball.
Time gives people heart attacks and strokes and indigestion and digestive diseases. It gives us mood disorders for which we buy pills just to keep ourselves moderately sane and moving right along so that, God forbid, we don't lose a day of work (that one day that just might help us recuperate) because someone else needs us to make them some money. So their wives can go to yoga and get pedicures and hire Alice to cook and clean for their kids.
You may see a trend emerging--my jealousy of stay-at-home-parents. In the seventies, Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem wanted us ladies to feel as if we had somehow been liberated by the women's rights movement. I say we've only succeeded in trapping us into more work and responsibility than we had before we were "liberated."
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