Sure a lot of cars out there again. Slow season must be over. Memorial Day weekend and all. The snow is about gone from the face of The Big. People have clearly arrived. Maybe they never left. I was in town, out on farm errands, and got overrun by the non-stop line of traffic. Left turn season is over.
It’s hard to fathom where everyone was headed. Not that I much cared, it’s a public road, and all the license plates were sevens anyway, part-time local maybe, yet plenty of workers headed home. It was nearly 5 p.m., midweek.
Hometowns across Montana remain far removed from the chaos of Helena’s lawmaking and the venality of D.C. Seen from here, on social and the news, it looks like politicians are in it for themselves. Forgot whom they work for. They’re sitting by idly, letting everything get way too expensive while doing little to nothing to help the locals caught in this economic cross fire.
A couple months ago the party in charge of Helena publicly rebuked nine members of its 90-person caucus for voting against leadership, and for healthcare. Dumping 10% of a party’s elected membership because they had the gall to vote for healthcare seems rather draconian.
Fidelity to party overtook hometown representation, at least in Washington, D.C. Neither party in Helena kept their members in line. Rank and file members routinely rolled leadership when deals came to a floor vote.
In D.C., the House men of Montana are playing an all-too-familiar game, letting the grandkids pay exorbitant interest sometime in the future. They swiped the credit card, added $4 trillion to the national debt, doling jillions to gazillionaires while cutting healthcare to working people in rural places like Montana. We’ll see what our senators do.
Voters have tossed plenty of politicians out of office, and eagerly cast votes against those who’ve become too cozy with lobbyists and are only in it for themselves. It’ll be a long year before we get much accountability back into public service on the national level.
In Montana both parties openly tried in vain to reopen the revolving door of lawmaker to lobbyist after citizens, through a voter initiative, told politicians that they favor a two-year cooling off period. It’s shocking how many of the elected see no conflict to revolving door politics.
Far too many politicians forgot that they work for local voters not Helena or D.C. lobbyists. They clearly feel the power, like their dealmaking role, and wantonly usurp local control on policy from taxes to land use planning.
In D.C., the nonpartisan bean counters at the Congressional Budget Office say that the House-passed plan would dump nearly 14 million Americans off healthcare. That’s a lot of local hurt.
As I turned left onto West Seventh and headed back to the farm, I hummed Samuel Francis Smith to myself, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing: land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims’ pride, from every mountainside let freedom ring!”
That House bill passed by a single vote – either of Montana’s congressmen could have stopped it if they wanted. Yet they also preferred to increase the burden on lower income earners while enriching the richest amongst us. Who knows what our elected senators do, but if history is any indicator, working class Montanans should prepare to be hosed. Healthcare and debt be damned.
The politicians will spout pleasant words and the press will print all of the clever talking points. Yet the hardship to healthcare access is real for everyone. Once politician take away healthcare workers lives become way more expensive, sometimes shorter, often sicker. That hurts working families and grandma, while placing a world of pain onto local economies.
Enough humming I said and turned on the car radio and pulled into the farm driveway, stopping to get the mail. The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll sang the lyrics “And you who philosophize disgrace. And criticize all fear. Take the rag away from your face. Now ain’t the time for your tears.”
I walked inside the farm house. The dog was waiting, ever ready, wagging its tail in small by steady circles. I rubbed his ears. He was glad to see me, always grateful that I return. Harry Truman was right: “You want a friend in Washington? Get a dog.”
None of the current batch of politicians whom Montanans sent to D.C. seem to care about the working stiff or retiree back home. They act like they’re in it for themselves. Enjoying a party while getting paid.
I opened the fridge, looked at the ginger ale, grabbed the Cold Smoke after remembering that the judge handed Hattie Carroll’s killer a mere six-month sentence at the end of Bob Dylan’s classic folksong. I turned, heading toward the front yard. The dog ready, waiting at the door.