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Mr. Government, Imagine That?

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Mr. Government, Imagine That?

A letter from any senior in America to the Government.

A letter was hand delivered from the Government – thought they was still looking for some money but heard Social Security was being robbed, and the government was taking our money, giving it to others to pay the debt – then were in a deeper hole than we were yesterday; imagine that?

They haven’t given us a penny since they decided to blow up the Middle East. Imagine your long earned wages spent on bombs, bodies scattered around the ground of both old and young.

Bringing us back home, don’t they know the cost of bread, butter, and coffee – without caffeine no less – something about your brain cells kicking about your head.  So wake us up – we just might know what the Government is up too – instead of mysterious letters without a return address – tried to send a note back, it came back instead to my address.

So my heart pumps faster with a cup of real coffee, and I don’t fall asleep in the middle of “Wheel of Fortune.” I may even know if my name was mentioned for a future guest – guess if I remembered when I took my pills the doctor ordered on time – I may even take the correct bus at noon; spending twelve dollars on a cab to travel five miles into town – Imagine that?

Might not miss our next appointment with just some caffeine in my blood – all that research gets into my doctor’s head from a few scientists involved with the Government.

Did you hear – N.Y. takes your money even if you drink water coming from some spa in Maine? Imagine that?

You keep paying high prices for gas, doesn’t matter that we fought those people across the ocean in some desert land where they were rich because of oil.  Doesn’t matter that you took eight years to destroy your own country, and another four to try and improve the life here in America.  Still the price of gas is high, and there’s not a thing we can do about it.  Those same people are going to travel in the summer to their resorts and in the winter to some ski lodge.  Where am I going this year Mr. President, but to the market with less money, shocked by the prices of food, and bringing home less – then, the doctor yells at us when we don’t eat right.  Oh, and those airplanes, can’t seem to keep the figures for the cost of a flight equal like the gasoline.  They jump around like some jumping beans, and my children never visit us in Florida because they double and triple the price for them to travel, it just isn’t fair, you should tell the Congress.  

Heard Medicare doesn’t want to cover many of the surgeries suggested for us retired people, because the New England Journal of Medicine mentioned it just doesn’t work.  Are they in pain, can they walk through a store without having to sit for thirty minutes?  Guess when we get older we aren’t what a doctor calls, priority.

The cost of hamburger is like taken a bite out of filet, and turkeys, the price is down until the winter comes and holidays, the cost will sky rocket like the fare on a plane. Doctor tells us to eat wheat bread, no more white – can’t tell you how long I heard, “Stay out of the sun,” now he tells me to get the sunshine, take a walk.  He told me a few years ago I had little vitamin D in my blood, and then last week he told me that vitamin D, too much, can ruin your bones.  Imagine that, it was so important because without D vitamin C just doesn’t work.  Imagine all those fruits I spent my money on.  Probably never did have D.

Never did like sugar in my soda, and Diet Pepsi was my drink of choice.  Red wine is the drink to have while eating wheat bread, and weeds; those curly things instead of iceberg, and it’s those curly things this ole’ mouth can’t chew.  Doc told me to lay off salt, so I look close as I shop; it takes me all day to read those small letters on a box, look’in for salt, or something called sodium.

Finally all those senior buses stopped running and I am left inside a twenty four hour market still reading those ingredients, costing us elders, those told how to eat in old age as the  manager of the market tells us how to drive one of those carts – never told us batteries die.  I have to remind him those displays with bright color mix up my vision with pretty advertising, shapes and sizes of far too many choices on one shelf.  Talked them into announcing when the last senior bus was leaving so I didn’t have to shop all night.  And pleaded with that same manager to keep those things we are suppose to eat at eye level so these old arms can reach.

Glasses aren’t part of my insurance, told the man at the check out – forgot my discount card.  The doctors hope the government will hand over the grants for research, which is fine and dandy as long as the people who need the final outcome receive the benefits. I can’t believe all those things about research, twenty subjects, 30,000 patients suffering, seems like the odds are not with them. Okay so I am off the subject.

Those political people are always yaking on the television, making headlines every night but the old folks, we can’t sleep, eat, drink or drive a car. We can’t even spend the money that we saved, since the cabs upped their fares; last week my friend took a cab to a casino, just for fun, cost him over thirty two dollars to get there, six miles from his home. Have fun, what else is there Mr. President.  We can’t play golf because our legs are weak, no one wants to cover us old people for insurance to improve them, and what’s left, a SSI check that never changes with the cost of living but those bills keep climbing, who knows how long we will last.

So we don’t want our neurons robbed by some supplement, or we don’t want to take some new drug that twenty people tried – not much left to do when all those people you hung out with hit the dust. No one drives, no one calls, no one cares when we are all alone eating some fake butter on wheat, and skipping meals. Dry toast and Ginger Ale, still good like we have some stomach ailment – or had two batches of Mama’s cookies without her seeing. I remember, Mama. She gave me stirred up Ginger Ale and insisted on no bubbles, dried white toast, and no wheat. Got better then, but it was mother’s love.

Last month the Government told us not to drink, well maybe longer then a month, and yesterday it was champagne – before that red wine. Now the hops in beer is great for those suffering like Mrs. Wilson, in room 325. We visit a great deal.  The doctor told us to party during a meeting at the adult home and I raised my hand to ask, “Doc, whose left to party with?”

Shop owners tell us take a cab down street, because of some damn discount coupons, ten percent off coffee, and then decaffeinated too – ten percent off transportation, if you want to wait an hour –  a lady friend wants to use a taxi, so you see I give in – she could barely move since she had to give up her medication for her pain and surgery is not covered by Medicare, so I let her travel in style.

Broadway – just not the same – winds whip up the ole street pass those high rise buildings where some new folks moved in, paid a million dollars to stay here only when the horses run –

Tonight we’re meeting at a place where someone’s telling jokes, and no ones screaming insanity into a microphone.  Ten percent off the total bill, no splitting checks – a big sign on the door – us ole’ people split everything – But, we go – old George said if we divide one percent by ten, we can splurge on ice cream – around the corner where it’s cheap -

So Mr. Government gives us advice on how to get in shape – how to do ten sit ups without falling into our own grave – telling us we can go without butter on popcorn, salt, and sugar. Our town is crack’in down on ole folks, want’in us to use public transportation cause we shouldn’t be driven and I ask, “Where do you think we’re go’in? What’s left for us to do?”

Even my family wants me to stop driving too – so – you see I tell’em, “One day you will walk in these shoes, find out your daughter’s son gets paid triple what you did.”  And that big place in the city, where you live, it too will look worn down – if you don’t take and keep it up, but you will visit this place, where I live like all the rest while City Hall posts a keep out sign on your property.

Our advice Mr. Government, from all of us slightly over twenty one – close your eyes at night and think of us – don’t ignore our past – read it in’a book if you have to, I know during those years, you were a twinkle in your Mama’s eye, imagine that?

Imagine you making twenty dollars for a weeks worth of work – a letter arrived from the Government; my friends read it to me because they won’t pay for glasses – but I should have turned off my hearing aid since those things you don’t believe in either, aren’t they attached to our body?

First it’s Advil then Tylenol, and gosh don’t swallow more then 1/8th of an aspirin, could cut up your insides – now I heard a whole pill is better.  Last week we received green pills, then on Monday, blue. Asked why? They told me a different company making that pill, same thing. Knew they weren’t telling the truth, found out people in all professions, lie.

It’s a shame, damn shame, when no one cares about the people around them, guess they are simply objects in some new game.  Never thought too much about old age, but see enough of it around me, thought is was gray hair and bald heads, slower pace – less food – must be bones shrink and stomachs too.  The other day I hated to see my friend’s father mix’in up our names.

Mr. Government, Imagine That? was last modified: October 15th, 2012 by Nancy Duci Denofio

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