Does Arizona care?

On Wednesday, 10,000 working adults in Arizona will lose their health insurance. These adults were relying on KidsCare, a program that provides low-cost health insurance for low-income families. The program lost its state funding, making it ineligible for federal funding. Children covered by this plan will remain covered, but the parents of these kids, who can also qualify for the program, will not.

This news comes at a time when Arizona families, like so many families across the U.S., are really struggling. With more than 9 percent of Arizona adults unemployed and one in every 150 households dealing with foreclosure, Arizona is now facing the prospect of having 65,000 more uninsured adults since last year. This is not to mention the thousands who are under-insured. President Obama’s healthcare reform critics have grown in numbers, but who are these critics? Do they see the human face behind these statistics?

From the perspective of an elementary teacher at a Title I, low-income school, I am saddened by the loss of this program. While Arizona Governor Jan Brewer hailed the fact that children covered by KidsCare weren’t losing their health coverage, this is a significant overstatement, given that these kids won’t get very far without their parents being able to work and contribute financially, emotionally, physically, etc. for their own children. Parents’ health and well-being are an essential piece to a child’s success. An injured or sick parent could lose their job, among any other number of disastrous scenarios, potentially sending the family into financial, emotional, or physical ruin.

Arizona’s response to the loss of KidsCare is to allocate more money to community health care centers, which usually provide health care services at a lower cost than general practitioners. This move is perhaps a tepid response or temporary Band-Aid for a larger problem with our health care system. What happens when these community centers are bombarded with patients in need of low-cost, efficient, effective healthcare?

The outcome of the loss of this program remains to be seen here in Arizona. But the lack of affordable healthcare outlets has been more noticeable in other states. RAM (Remote Area Medical), an organization that travels to rural areas in need of health services here in the U.S. or abroad, has traveled to the “remote area” of Los Angeles, among other U.S. cities, to service those in need. The response has been huge. Thousands of people have waited hours in line for dental procedures and eye exams. The groups of doctors and volunteers there can barely keep up. RAM was initially created to service people in Latin America who lived in places so remote they had no access to healthcare. The fact that so many people in major U.S. cities have rushed to seek (free) medical care should serve as a rude awakening to anyone who thinks health care reform isn’t necessary.

Something needs to be done, and soon. Thousands of people are waiting, literally.

Finding Family

Two weeks ago, I was in Cleveland for a wedding. Cleveland was a fabulous place to be for Labor Day Weekend — well, at least compared to Phoenix, where daytime temperatures are still over 100 degrees. Spending time in the nice weather with old college buddies was fantastic.

Lauren, my comrade who tied the knot, is a friend I met while at Ohio University competing on the Club Gymnastics team. Through meets in Indiana, Texas, and beyond, I have plenty of fond memories of my time on the team. Aside from competitions, there were plenty more alcohol-fueled antics during the time of our friendship. On more than one occasion, I had the opportunity to meet Lauren’s father.

Despite his small stature, Dave can catch any one’s attention. Before the GymCats could start any competition, Dave would lead us in his famous, impromptu cheer that any and all opposing teams would envy. He was, and still is, our biggest fan.

The night before the wedding, a group of us were invited to Dave’s house for a few beers and good conversation. I hadn’t seen many of my friends in about a year, so there was plenty of catching up to do. My younger sister is headed to Ohio State University instead of Ohio University this fall, and when I told Dave this, he joked that she would miss out on the infamous Halloween Street party and PalmerFest, among other Athens festivities.

When asked why she decided to go there, I mentioned that we have family in Columbus, and that having aunts and uncles close by was a comforting factor in her choice. Confused, Dave continued.

“Why wouldn’t she want to go to OU?” he said. “You can find family there.”

I did indeed find family during my time in Athens. The fact that about 15 of us traveled from across the country to Cleveland for one weekend is testament to that fact. My four years of undergrad in Athens were truly unforgettable, and my “family” there is the reason.

The years since I’ve graduated have flown by. They’ve been filled with wonderful (and sometimes wonderfully wild) adventures. Fortunately, I’ve met or formed other “families” who’ve enriched my life experience beyond belief and who hold a special place in my heart.

To me, family can be loosely defined. Upon first hearing the word, most people would probably argue that the people affiliated with that word are related by blood lines and rich histories. But, when people are put in trying situations or new environments, new families often form.

My first and foremost family is my immediate one. My parents and two siblings will forever be my most important family. They raised me, supported me financially, emotionally, and physically — they made me the person I am today on a very foundational level.

Since graduating college, I’ve found other families. When I arrived in Athens, Greece for a three month internship, I felt thrown into a scary situation. I didn’t know a soul, not to mention the language. Within a few weeks, and after a few nights in the city over a frappe or Mythos, I had found my family. Anna and Essi knew English, were also foreigners, and enjoyed more than a few beers at one time, just like me. We bonded in our adventures through Greece and confusion over strange Greek habits. Our adventure continued in Finland, where they welcomed me into the disarming experience that is Finnish saunas, along with eclectic nights in strange night clubs and witnessing the disarming peacefulness that defines their country.

I’ve been welcomed by families in Costa Rica, Panama, and Peru. Traditional families or not, I always felt accepted and even loved, if only temporarily. While language can be an issue, there are certain enduring themes in the human spirit that keep “families” together. We can all smile when cultures clash and general understanding comes to a screeching halt. We can all sweat when our physical abilities are tested while building something that will have long-lasting benefit to the community, even after the foreigners leave. We can all talk (or pantomime, at least) during nights sitting near the canal with no electricity. We can all cry when our time together ends. The creation of these families isn’t forced — it just seems to happen.

I’ve been blessed over the years to meet many families. I currently live in Phoenix, Arizona, and while my “normal” family is thousands of miles away, I don’t feel homesick. I have my family here.