OAKTOWN, CALI - A lot of ya'll reading this column have probably heard that Mr. "We The People," former Presidential candidate, former California governor, Jerry Brown is now Mayor-elect of my hometown, Oakland, California. I sure wish him luck, but my cup of hope is not running over. I would call it about half full, which means that it remains half empty.
Mayor Jerry, like his synonymous counterpart Mayor Willie of that city across the Bay, will certainly change something merely by keeping Oaktown in the national spotlight. There were more big time reporters lining up to see him on his election night, back in June, than wanted to look at anything having to do with the Chocolate City since the fires that ravaged our hills nearly a decade ago. But let's face it, this is a sixty year old man who lives in a commune.
Jerry Brown probably knows as much about my part of town, out in the flats of East Oakland, as I know about Chinese calculus.
I bring this up because I've been seeing a lot of evidence lately to support the idea that poverty, the lack of enough money to meet only a person's basic needs, and the desperate, anxious state of mind it puts a person in, makes for the kind of distorted environment where the chances of succeeding are minimized. From what I see, it's almost impossible for many poor folks, down on their luck, to think long-term when the short-term pressures are literally screaming for their attention.
Let me try to paint you a word picture. Imagine yourself waking up this morning to the following circumstances. Though you've been looking for full-time work for two or three months, the best you've come up with has been short-term, pick-up work. So, though the good news is that you were able to pay the rent and the electric, you're about out of food, bill collectors are starting to send you "reminders," and you had to make "arrangements" for paying last month's phone bill. Can't let the phone go, how's anybody who might want to interview you going to call? So, this morning, your net worth is about $25 you have in your checking account, plus the $8.42 on your dresser. Your agenda for today? Go out looking for work, of course. You've already listed with Manpower, and you've contacted all the places in the Sunday newspaper classifieds that might hire somebody with your skills. So today's strategy is to pound the pavement, going in to apply at any place with a HELP WANTED sign in the window.
I know more than one brother who could fit into this picture. I bet you do, too.
The copy center has a big stack of blank applications waiting for you when you arrive. At the Radio Shack, the man tells you to take this blue flier for showing up at an "Open House" on Wednesday night at six. You keep walking.
The headline on the newspaper tells you that eight people got those caps busted into them, last weekend at the Alameda County Fair, behind two guys fighting over the last stuffed Tweedy Bird dolls in one of them prize booths. The smell of caffeine in the air from all of them coffee shops downtown makes you feel like you want a cup, but you know it ain't in your budget. You'll need that dollar to buy food tonight to make the stew you mean to carry you through this week.
At the record store, the tall, skinny white boy with the buzz cut and one whole arm(who knows, maybe that whole side of his body) tattooed gives you the "Oh Please" look as he hands you the application. You stay right there and fill it out anyway.
By noon, you've had it. You're tired of walking pass people in clothes you can't afford who have places to go. Besides, you tell yourself, if that phone call comes, somebody's got to be there to take it. You catch a bus back toward home. Sitting on the bus, quiet amidst all those other people who seem like they don't need to be at work right now, you start worrying that maybe the "arrangement" you made on that phone bill was the impossible dream instead of reasonable accomodation. You stop at the corner grocery to get the ingredients for that stew, after stopping at the bank and cashing a $10 check. You try to convince yourself on the way home that you just imagined that the teller was looking at you funny.
While you're cutting up the snap beans and carrots, the phone rings, but it's not a job, it's those people you promised to mail a payment today calling "just to remind" you. After they sweat you, you decide that the house feels hot, even with the windows open, and maybe being by the phone wasn't such a good idea. And because it's hot and you're a little pissed off, you decide that you deserve a beer. A 24 ouncer will only cost $1.59. By the time you get to the corner, you feel like you deserve a whole six pack.
When your old lady gets home from work, she gives you attitude because you smell of beer and you were only out looking for work half the day. The money fight starts again.
Drinking that third beer, watching the news on television, you stop feeling hungry, just more thirsty, and all kinds of crazy stuff is going through your mind.
I see people in shoes like these every day. I don't see how Jerry Brown, Willie Brown, or any other politician has the magic to fill this cup.
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