Irene is a wonderful name,
But damage is her newly found fame.
And now that she’s past
A common question is asked:
With whom do I file my claim?
What a week for those poor souls on the East Coast. Hurricane Irene surely did a number on property and infrastructure alike. And, as I post this, some have are still feeling the effects of her passage. Nevertheless, I’m curious as to how the aftermath will play out.
One would think that, what with the desire for a balanced budget amendment and smaller government, most would roll up their sleeves and get to the business of fixing their own damage as they dip into their own savings to pay for the repairs of things broken and replacement of things lost. After all, they’re independent, strong-willed, God-fearing folks that think Uncle Sam should get the hell out of their affairs.
And, should one think along those lines, one would more than likely be greatly mistaken. No, I’m putting my chips in with those lining up to fill out claim forms provided by FEMA and other publicly funded relief organizations. And anything that the Red Cross (or any other privately funded charity) has to offer, they’ll take that, too. Who could foresee such an event? And who can expect me, an average American citizen with no savings and no insurance, to pick up the tab for a natural disaster?
And there, in a nutshell, you have a perfect example of the dysfunction running through the core of our society and political process. “I don’t wanna cop until I need a cop,” if you will. “And I don’t wanna pay for the cop until I need him.” Of course. No investment into a system that provides the things we will all need at some time or another. No rainy day fund (sorry, Irene), no fall back position, no Plan B.
The romance of an individual against the forces of nature may play well on the silver screen, but flops on Main Street despite the calls for “less spending” and “smaller government”. The theory of such a system flies high, but rolls into a graveyard spiral in the face of a reality that demands expenditure and man-power for the sake of the citizenry.
We are a confused populace, my friends, and we need to figure out just what kind of a world we want to live in: a dog-eat-dog or a one-hand-washes-the-other. Before you decide, though, remember that old country song where no truer words ever were twanged: Sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug.