Confession: Why I Wish National Healthcare Could be Like Spokane Riverfront Park
This week, I sat for the first time by myself in an urban park with no other object than to just sit. You may find this astonishing, as did Martin when I told him. "Never? Never?"
"Yes. I've only ever passed through parks or taken children to play or met someone for a specific purpose. But I've never just found a tree, taken off my shoes, and sat there."
The experience transformed me.
I crossed over a footbridge, among runners, moms with strollers, conference attendees (the conference center was located nearby), dog-walkers, and backpack-toting drifters. A willow bent over the river and for a while I explored the private little tent made by its overhanging branches. I considered eating my lunch there with a goose, but an intermittent stench of poop sent me out into the sunshine again.
There I finally found my tree.
One of many dotting the crest of the hill, its high branches covered with new leaves made me feel like a queen. A tree all of my own for hours, if I chose to stay. I arranged myself comfortably at its roots, took off my shoes, laid out my book and my lunch and watched and listened.
Behind me a person in a hammock turned every once and a while with a synthetic rustling sound. At my right down the green hill, a bearded man with the appearance of being homeless sat down, took a breath, and lay back, disappearing into the grass. A couple unstrapped a toddler from a backpack and settled down in a spot at my left. Down across the river, people thronged in and out of the conference center. At one point a group of recent graduates wearing scarlet cowls flapped their black arms and gave a triumphant shout, looking very much like red-winged blackbirds.
Parks belong to everyone. It hit me forcefully--that simple, mind-blowing fact. This park didn't belong to me any more or less that the business woman with her phone or the teenager with the skateboard or the homeless guy sleeping in the grass. We all got to sit there, enjoying the sun, the trees, the soft grass, and birdsong.
Parks are equal-opportunity. After days of restaurants and hotels, the fact that I didn't have to pay more for a better tree or a more comfortable spot on the hill was expansive and countercultural. I realized that I am so wired to think "How much is this going to cost me?" and "Is this specific service/setting/product worth more than that one?" that simply sitting under a tree, breathing clean air and soaking up the sun for free with anyone else who could get there was pretty incredible.
For the most part, everyone abides by the unwritten rule of "live-and-let-live." I nibbled at my pita, drank my juice, read my book, wrote a bit, and watched everything. It took me a while to get over the feeling of dread that someone would disturb me. I'd been socializing with a lot of people I didn't know, and I really wanted solitude. Besides, I'd come to associate the city with a place where anyone can come up and ask you for money. I really didn't want to be hassled. Every time someone wandered up the hill toward "my" tree, I found myself tensing up. In the middle of this bustling city, I wanted solitude. And I got it. Nobody cared I was there. People poorer than I am didn't care I was there. People richer than I am didn't care I was there.
Toward the end of my sojourn in that place, I suddenly thought: I wish our healthcare could be like this park. I wish that it could belong to everyone. I wish it could be equal-opportunity. I wish people would stop blustering on and on about how some people deserve it and some people don't. I wish this country could just stop their idiotic pontificating, breathe a collective sigh, and relax at last. But nobody can relax until we have equity. Nobody can sigh contentedly until every child, woman, and man have access to good healthcare. Nobody can lay back blissfully into their patch of soft grass until everyone can live without the dread of getting sick and not being able to pay to get well again. Nobody can relax while the just the rich sit under trees. Unless something changes, nobody will ever be truly well--physically, mentally, or spiritually.
Look, America--look at Spokane Riverfront Park! I can sit down under a tree between a man in a 1000.00 suit and a teenager with a beat-up skateboard and mom with a kid and a homeless man. Nobody's yelling at each other that the ducks in the river belong more to them than anyone else. Nobody's screaming that someone took more than their share of the oak tree's shade.
I mean, I know I'm being simplistic, but come on. I had a vision.
Last summer on a trip to England, we encountered an old guy with a gammy leg and a stout walking stick on the Coastal Trail in Cornwall. When he learned we were from the U.S., he said, "Tell me one thing. Why don't Americans want universal healthcare? I just don't understand it." He pointed to his leg and told us how having years of medical attention had enabled him to have a robust, active post-retirement life. Why wouldn't Americans want that? "I don't understand either," I said, as we said goodbye.
Faced with what Nancy Pelosi calls "Robin Hood in reverse", a bill that benefits the very rich while striking ever lower the poor, I dream of that public park. I dream of sitting back on the green hill with the river at my feet. I dream of sharing the sunshine.
"Yes. I've only ever passed through parks or taken children to play or met someone for a specific purpose. But I've never just found a tree, taken off my shoes, and sat there."
The experience transformed me.
I crossed over a footbridge, among runners, moms with strollers, conference attendees (the conference center was located nearby), dog-walkers, and backpack-toting drifters. A willow bent over the river and for a while I explored the private little tent made by its overhanging branches. I considered eating my lunch there with a goose, but an intermittent stench of poop sent me out into the sunshine again.
There I finally found my tree.
Behind me a person in a hammock turned every once and a while with a synthetic rustling sound. At my right down the green hill, a bearded man with the appearance of being homeless sat down, took a breath, and lay back, disappearing into the grass. A couple unstrapped a toddler from a backpack and settled down in a spot at my left. Down across the river, people thronged in and out of the conference center. At one point a group of recent graduates wearing scarlet cowls flapped their black arms and gave a triumphant shout, looking very much like red-winged blackbirds.
Parks belong to everyone. It hit me forcefully--that simple, mind-blowing fact. This park didn't belong to me any more or less that the business woman with her phone or the teenager with the skateboard or the homeless guy sleeping in the grass. We all got to sit there, enjoying the sun, the trees, the soft grass, and birdsong.
Parks are equal-opportunity. After days of restaurants and hotels, the fact that I didn't have to pay more for a better tree or a more comfortable spot on the hill was expansive and countercultural. I realized that I am so wired to think "How much is this going to cost me?" and "Is this specific service/setting/product worth more than that one?" that simply sitting under a tree, breathing clean air and soaking up the sun for free with anyone else who could get there was pretty incredible.
For the most part, everyone abides by the unwritten rule of "live-and-let-live." I nibbled at my pita, drank my juice, read my book, wrote a bit, and watched everything. It took me a while to get over the feeling of dread that someone would disturb me. I'd been socializing with a lot of people I didn't know, and I really wanted solitude. Besides, I'd come to associate the city with a place where anyone can come up and ask you for money. I really didn't want to be hassled. Every time someone wandered up the hill toward "my" tree, I found myself tensing up. In the middle of this bustling city, I wanted solitude. And I got it. Nobody cared I was there. People poorer than I am didn't care I was there. People richer than I am didn't care I was there.
We were all just happy to be at the park.
Toward the end of my sojourn in that place, I suddenly thought: I wish our healthcare could be like this park. I wish that it could belong to everyone. I wish it could be equal-opportunity. I wish people would stop blustering on and on about how some people deserve it and some people don't. I wish this country could just stop their idiotic pontificating, breathe a collective sigh, and relax at last. But nobody can relax until we have equity. Nobody can sigh contentedly until every child, woman, and man have access to good healthcare. Nobody can lay back blissfully into their patch of soft grass until everyone can live without the dread of getting sick and not being able to pay to get well again. Nobody can relax while the just the rich sit under trees. Unless something changes, nobody will ever be truly well--physically, mentally, or spiritually.
Look, America--look at Spokane Riverfront Park! I can sit down under a tree between a man in a 1000.00 suit and a teenager with a beat-up skateboard and mom with a kid and a homeless man. Nobody's yelling at each other that the ducks in the river belong more to them than anyone else. Nobody's screaming that someone took more than their share of the oak tree's shade.
I mean, I know I'm being simplistic, but come on. I had a vision.
Last summer on a trip to England, we encountered an old guy with a gammy leg and a stout walking stick on the Coastal Trail in Cornwall. When he learned we were from the U.S., he said, "Tell me one thing. Why don't Americans want universal healthcare? I just don't understand it." He pointed to his leg and told us how having years of medical attention had enabled him to have a robust, active post-retirement life. Why wouldn't Americans want that? "I don't understand either," I said, as we said goodbye.
Faced with what Nancy Pelosi calls "Robin Hood in reverse", a bill that benefits the very rich while striking ever lower the poor, I dream of that public park. I dream of sitting back on the green hill with the river at my feet. I dream of sharing the sunshine.
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