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Saturday, May 12, 2018

A Rich, White Man


A rich white man.

And whom you can rely on in a foxhole.

My beloved brother, Joseph Goska, just died, God rest his soul. His death is a shock and a heartache.

At the same time, I am facing a legal problem. A legal problem so scary it might mean no more healthcare, no more roof.

It's hard to mourn your brother, almost your entire family, at this point, and, at the same time, confront the possible loss of healthcare and roof, especially when you yourself are still being treated for the same disease that killed your brother ... and your sister ... and your mother ... and your other brother.

I've been on the phone, on the internet, in person, asking / begging / pleading.

I need information. That's really all I need. Information.

I turned to a Catholic deacon. I cried in front of a banker. I interrogated my apartment manager, whom I had to chase to find -- it took three visits to her office just to collar her. I phoned and then visited the office of my Democratic congressman. I importuned legal aide.

Legal aide said they would not help till I was evicted. I said, "You would actually wait for someone with my health issues to be living on the street before you would help?"

They said yes, and they said "We are very proud of what we do."

The deacon never responded. The banker wasn't sure. My congressman's office hadn't a clue.

It's been ten days, and I've been on this one question every day.

Not taking breaks to cry. Not taking breaks to reminisce.

In desperation, I asked a rich, white man. His name comes up in local media.

The rich, white man responded to my email. He suggested something.

I told him that I had already tried that and it didn't work. That's all I said. I didn't cry or beg. I just said, "Thank you. I tried that. It didn't work."

I thought I'd never hear from him again.

But, without telling me this, the rich, white man had kept digging. He did original research. He contacted a government office it never occurred to me, or anyone I've told about this, to contact.

And he helped me.

The rich, white man. Helped me, a complete stranger, who can do nothing for him.

I'm not in the clear yet. He got some preliminary information, and he told me that I needed to contact so and so and provide more information, before they can guide me through the briar patch I now inhabit.

But he did something that it never occurred to me to do, or anyone else I've asked.

Believe me. You do not know whom you will be able to rely on in a foxhole. Those who publicly self-advertise as helping the poor and the needy may come to your aid, or they may bail at the first crackle of enemy fire.

And it may just be a "selfish" "white" "capitalist" "male" who saves your bacon.


PS: I already posted this on Facebook. Posting twice for anyone who reads here but not there. 

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