Bleeding Heart

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Believe it or not, I voiced my opinions as a young man.

My brother-in-law, Chuck, and I would have long, spirited debates about the death penalty. 

I enjoy a good argument with a well-armed man and Chuck is a smart guy. We would go back and forth on the issue, listening to one another make our arguments.

Chuck was the first guy to say:

“You’re a bleeding heart. That’s your big problem.”

I took that as a badge of honor.

My bleeding heart is taking a beating about now as I see that gays, women and unbelievably people on Medicare are going to be taking their lumps.

I don’t fall into any of those categories, but I do my best to see the world from their point-of-view.

It was minus four degrees on Wednesday. I drove down Michigan Avenue in the city of Buffalo and I really wish that I hadn’t looked to my left where I spotted a group of men, in sleeping bags below the underpass.

“The market is soaring!” Someone texted me. “There’s a new sheriff in town!”

I erased my response to that message without sending it because I was thinking about those men under that bridge.

We shame ourselves watching people live like that here in the richest nation in the world.

At the inauguration there were three men on the stage (God knows why they have a role in our government) who hold more wealth than 50% of people in this country.

Three men!

A story detailed that their wealth has grown by $230 billion since November.

How much money do they need????

And I can only imagine what they might say if I were to tell them about the men sleeping outside when it’s minus four degrees.

It wouldn’t be a compassionate stance, I’m thinking.

How could it be?

Does your heart bleed when you think about others?

Damn, we used to care a little, didn’t we?

Like I told Chuck a long time ago:

“I don’t know how NOT to care about stuff that’s not right.”

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