The State of Confusion Address

The annual attempt on the part of the sitting President of the United States to take a bow for the things he allegedly accomplished, smooth the ruffled feathers of the people sitting on their hands on the side of the aisle opposite the majority party, and say things that can appeal to the Emperor of China as well as the homeless guy living under the viaduct downtown; this exercise in pomp and circumstance might just be the most entertaining 70 minutes one can find on television. Last night's episode was among the best three-ring circuses I have ever seen.

In the center ring, the man of the hour did his thing, speaking with his usual eloquence but in a far more casual and less-mechanical cadence than normal. But the viewer might have experienced a certain level of motion-sickness as Pogo, aka Nancy Pelosi, demonstrated the spring-loaded aspect of her derriere in a dizzying series of seat-ejections during the President's attempted remarks. Sometimes, she appeared to be levitating a few seconds before the President even made his point! At her right sat the Chesire Cat, aka Joe Biden, whose toothy smile remained fixed as his head seemed to nod ceaselessly, reminiscent of Hillary Clinton in her First Lady days.

In the left-hand ring giddy members of Congress of the Democrat persuasion, who do not come equipped with spring-loaded bums, sat with eyes riveted on Pogo in order to know when they were supposed to erupt in loud cheers and applause and to likewise get the cue to return their butts to their respective chairs. Ever mindful of the cameras, each worked hard to keep a look of rapt concentration on his or her face.

In the right-hand ring, there was little need to look for cues from anywhere. All were apparently under orders to entirely avoid showing their hands during the speech, even when the President said something that was obviously designed to appeal to Republican ideology. And clearly, after last year's outburst from the gentleman from South Carolina, they weren't taking any chances that anyone would repeat the faux pas by substituting a single digit salute. Sure, there were one or two instances when all the cast were allowed to show support of some all-American remark from the podium, but they were rare and contrived.

Meanwhile, there were two groups of honored guests in the audience who provided, um -- well, who demonstrated the advantages of wearing uniforms in public. The Supremes, in their matching black robes, also practiced their bored, above-it-all stares; that is until POTUS had the audacity to call them out on their recent decision to allow corporations to throw their money around in just about any way they see fit. At that, Justice Alioto broke ranks and actually reacted!

The Joint Stiffs, elegant and soldierly in the uniforms of the branches of service each represents, sat at attention in the manner I observed when I attended my nephew's graduation from USMC boot camp years ago. Blinking is not allowed, coughing is not allowed, hell, moving is not allowed. So when POTUS mentioned his renewed resolve to end Don't Ask, Don't Tell in 2010, the cameras trained on their faces might as well have been pointing to one of the galleries in Madame Toussaint's Wax Museum.

Today we get to watch, listen to or read the reviews. Here's a gutsy prediction from me: Dems will grade the speech an A or A+, GOP supporters will grade it a C-, at best, and Independents will go on scratching their heads, trying to figure out what it all meant. OMG, I just cannot wait until next year's speech!

Pat Hears From His Nemesis

Thanks to Ms. Lily Coyle for her letter to StarTribune.com in Minneapolis in response to Pat Robertson's "interesting" comments about Haiti:

Dear Pat Robertson:

I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher.


The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves people desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake.


Haven't you seen "Crossroads" or "Damn Yankees?" If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night-clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80% poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it, I'm just saying: not how I roll.


You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings --just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.


Best,
Satan

You Are Not Broke Enough, L

I need to set the record straight. Before I poisoned myself with tainted smoked salmon, I had written what some might call a diatribe about Wachovia Mortgage's handling of my one-year effort to obtain a government Make Home Affordable loan modification. In that post I reported that the reason I was given for being denied a modification was that I didn't have enough income. Of course that was ridiculous, and of course I didn't believe it, but I had to wait one full week before receiving the promised correspondence that contained the real reason.

Forget what the idiot on the phone said. The letter says that because I am current on my loan and based on the financial information I was required to provide, "you have the ability to pay your current mortgage payment using cash reserves or other assets!"

The so-called cash reserves mentioned happen to be what's left of my 401k, the only money I have after the battering I suffered from the demise of the economy and the housing market.

So, the bank says the government requires them to list retirement accounts as liquid assets. In order to qualify for that loan, I am apparently expected to spend all available funds on my mortgage until I am literally penniless. AND, I am being penalized for having made my payments and not (deliberately) gone into default.

The bank is more than happy to allow me to start this process all over again, this time leaving out the puny retirement fund and applying instead for one of the bank's modification programs. For the entire time that I have been talking to the bank about my problems, I have had the distinct impression that their institutional resentment of the government's attempt to meddle in their fleecing of the American homeowner has fueled an almost blatant attempt to prevent their customers from qualifying. The truth is, if the bank had had their modification programs in place months ago, I would have voluntarily gone with their program as long as it was beneficial to both of us. I have no deep, burning desire to be the beneficiary of government largesse--unemployment insurance is quite enough.

Frankly, I still don't know what to believe about the motives of the bank or the implied desire of the government to work only with people who have been irresponsible with their mortgages and who have waited until they are destitute before attempting to ameliorate their financial predicament. But here's what I do know: I stopped payment on the January mortgage payment and will not be paying any more. I am required by the bank to put the house back on the market at what they call Fair Market Value, but nobody is able to tell me what that is, because there hasn't been a comparable sale in my zip code since January 2008.

Perhaps my situation is unique. Maybe I am the only senior citizen caught in the Catch 22 of being unemployed and suddenly unemployable because of the magic number 65. Maybe I am the only older person who has tried to ward off total ruin by fiercely guarding my credit score by using dwindling savings to pay the expenses on a home I can no longer afford, thinking that it would put me in a better position to negotiate with the bank. Perhaps, but I doubt it.

Don't Ignore Those Sell By Dates

I have learned the hard way that my tried and usually true method of determining the safety of food should be retired. I purchased a package of lox trimmings at my local supermarket last week and stored it in my fridge. The package said Sell By: January 16, 2010, and I purchased it on January 13. I forgot about the lox until I was scrounging around looking for a simple meal on Wednesday, January 20. They were wrapped tightly in plastic wrap over one of those plastic to-go type cartons, and since lox is smoked and therefore somewhat preserved, I decided to eat it if it passed the sniff test.


Yesterday I developed the kind of sick headache that only accompanies serious gastric upset. The upchucking finally started on Thursday at around 9 p.m. and hasn't stopped since. This morning the other end -- well, you know. I am so sick and dehydrated, but I cannot keep even water down. When I brushed my teeth the taste of toothpaste set off the sixth bout of vomiting. I am all but certain that I have treated myself to food poisoning and I am determined not to ever do it again.


Take the Sell By dates into consideration when deciding to consume food you have stored for more than two or three days without freezing. Taking a chance is just not worth it. Groannn...

Literally Everything Is Relative

A story came out of the horror in Haiti over the weekend that caused my mojo to return. Thanks to the most inspiring woman I have seen in a long, long, time, the fight that I thought I had lost forever after last week's series of personal setbacks has come roaring back.

A woman was buried under the remnants of a five-story supermarket for five days when rescuers finally cleared enough debris away to hear her voice. When they called her name, she answered in a strong, clear voice and stated how pleased she would be to have a sip of water.

In a few more minutes her face emerged for the camera trained on the spot where she lay trapped, and on it was the most beautiful smile one will ever encounter. A smile! Her face was radiant through the dusty powder, and her eyes were bright, not dull and frightened.

Although the woman moaned in pain as the rescuers and her ever-vigilant husband attempted to pull her from the concrete, when she was finally freed, her smile returned. And suddenly, inexplicably, she broke into song! According to the interpreter, the song's message was: do not fear death.

This remarkable woman was able to walk to her husband's car, sit erect and alert in the front seat and set off for a first-hand tour of the horror that surrounded her 5-day tomb. And as I watched the car pull away from the camera, I knew that the human spirit can withstand just about anything, as long as it doesn't cause death. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

I have heard that a bizillion times during my life, but this was the first time I think I actually believed it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am back.

My Doctor Just Fired Me

Yesterday I was reeling from the news that my bank refused to modify my mortgage. That must not have been humbling enough for the fates, because today brought yet another blow: the doctor I have seen for the past 12 years handed me a letter saying she will no longer accept Medicare as insurance, effective April 1, 2010!

My first reaction was sheer anger. How could this practice turn its back on such a long-term patient who presented her Medicare card today for the very first time? So much for the noble motives of primary care physicians. But after I dried my tears -- yes, I was crying again -- and took a few deep breaths, I expressed to the doctor how unfair I feel this decision is. And that's when today's lesson in reality began.

I assumed, like many of us have, that since my doctor is in private practice with her husband, she and her family were living it up, raking in the bucks. When I first started seeing this doctor, she and her family were in the habit of taking exciting vacations every year and she admitted that they were financially comfortable then. But twelve years later, they are skipping vacations, cannot afford to live inside the city limits, near their office, and are scaling back on their monthly expenses, just like everybody else.

The doctor explained that it wasn't supposed to be this way. She said that back during the Clinton administration, provisions were established that would shift the power away from the insurance companies and essentially neutralize the powerful insurance lobby in Washington.
However, when the time would come to pass the legislation to actually make that shift happen, our illustrious members of Congress, always fearful of the repercussions leveled by the insurance lobbyists, would decide to table it until the next non-election year. As a result, those measures never happened.

I asked her why doctors haven't been more vocal in their support of health care reform, since she said she had been looking forward to the public option component of any reform, because it would provide competition for the entrenched insurance industry. Her response was that the American Medical Association is dominated by specialists, and specialists outnumber primary care physicians by a large margin. And specialists have done quite well under the present arrangement and they are opposed to changing it.

When my doctor and her partner/husband learned that their Medicare payments would be cut in 2010 by a whopping 17%, they had no choice but to cut their ties with Medicare. They will be implementing a quasi-concierge-type medical practice, with their patients paying a negotiated price for the level of access they choose. I don't think I will be able to stay with her, but the details have yet to be completed.

I had no idea that doctors were suffering as much as they are. As I told her, I understand completely the business basis for her decision, but I still think it sucks. She agrees.

OM freakin' G! They Said "NO"

Since March 15, 2009, I have been trying to get Wachovia Mortgage to talk to me about modifying my mortgage loan. The inspiration for starting this blog came when I was notified that my job would end on February 28, 2009, and I knew I would have to shift into high gear to prevent total financial ruin, a prospect that was quickly coming into focus.

Around the same time, President Obama announced the Make Home Affordable program, an initiative designed to get banks to work with customers who become unable to make their mortgage payments due to the loss of income. Since I met all the criteria for that program, I relaxed a bit and began a 11-month long exercise in hoop jumping, a game that the banks have invented to avoid doing what the program was designed to do. Although I had never yet missed a payment nor was I ever late, I thought I would head off disaster by getting myself into the loan modification queue.

As the weeks and months ticked by, the bank proceeded to slip three or four deadlines, lose two different sets of documentation, and set up an internal process that prevented me from developing any kind of a relationship with any one human being. At one point, they offered something called a Forbearance Agreement, a temporary modification that allowed me to reduce my monthly payment by about $400 for the next consecutive three months. At the end of the three-month period, there would be a balloon payment that would collect all the outstanding amounts deferred during the agreement! Big help. But, even worse, what wasn't made clear during discussions, and what was hidden in esoteric language in the conveyance letter for the agreement, is the fact that this so-called agreement would result in negative reports to the credit bureaus. So the bottom line was this: the only help involved in the forbearance agreement was that Wachovia Mortgage would not call and harass me about the missing payments!

When I realized what was happening, I immediately returned to making full payments. I knew that at some point in the modification process the bank would be checking my credit. Up to the point that I lost my job, my credit rating was in the Excellent range, and I didn't want to jeopardize that. Instinctively I knew that the bank would use the credit hits as a reason NOT to modify my loan. As a result, up until yesterday, when I stopped payment on the mortgage payment check, I still had never missed a payment.

At 7:30 p.m. this past Tuesday, I received a call from a voice in the Wachovia Mortgage phone bank. Her assignment was to inform me that the decision on my case had been reached and the bank would be unable to comply with my request for a loan modification. For a moment I really thought that the top of my head would blow off. All I could get out of my mouth was a whining "Whyyyyyyyyyyyy????? The answer, I swear to God, was "I'm not sure, let me take a look. You will be getting a letter --it was mailed today-- that will explain everything. It looks like it's because you don't have enough income."

At this point tears were running down my face, but when I heard that response I actually said, "Well, duuuuhhhhh! My required hardship letter, one of the criteria for qualification, was the first thing you received. The program was designed for just this scenario. What the hell are you talking about?" Again, she referred me to the letter I have yet to receive.

Two experts appeared on the Today Show Wednesday morning to discuss this very subject. They said that so far 750,000 homeowners have applied for a loan modification under the Federal program. Of those, only 31,000 have been able to qualify for a permanent modification.

One said that the banks have done everything they can to make the process difficult Although the option to reduce the principle on the loan is in the guidelines, the banks will only look at lowering interest rates. If that doesn't bring the payments into the affordable range, they turn the homeowner down. Since the majority of applicants sit with an upside down loan, and since many have suffered a reduction of income in one form or another, they are likely not going to be helped by merely lowering the interest rate.

It is incomprehensible to me why a bank would rather go through a costly (to them) foreclosure process and ultimately be stuck with yet another house in their portfolio, than arrive at a compromise with a long-term, problem-free customer who will resume making a more reasonable payment on time, every time. But that is what they choose. I would have probably been better off missing payments for the past 11 months -- I'm told that is the way to get their attention.

I am a fighter. I always have been. But this process has left me totally out of gas; there is no fight left in me. Let's hope I get it back soon, because there is a lot more life left for me to navigate.

Political Correctness is Killing American Discourse!

Fair warning, readers: I am about to rant. If you prefer your blog posts dainty and unoffensive to everyone, including cats and dogs, you should probably click off now.

Two years ago, Senator Harry Reid was trying to explain to someone why he thought Barack Obama had a chance to be elected POTUS in racially divided America. He was not stating his personal point of view about African Americans. Actually, he was stating the opinion of millions of non-African Americans, albeit in a circuitous fashion, who either openly or secretly judge black people by criteria that include skin color and speech patterns. There are those in the USA who prefer their black people with lighter skin, because they find the rich darkness of the ebony color frightening. There are those in the USA who prefer that their black people speak without saying "axe" when they mean "ask," and who use the possessive case properly; e.g. not "I was at my Mama house," but "I was at my Mama's house." And Mr. Reid seems to be in on the poorly kept secret that many-- maybe most-- African Americans have the ability to lapse into the urban vernacular at will. I dare anyone to argue with the truth of these statements.

Mr. Reid was an idiot for one thing: why in the world would he invoke the term "Negro" in the 21st century? I know it has been confusing for people that the preferred term for Americans of African ancestry has changed over the decades. First we preferred "colored" over "nigra" or "nigger." Later we thought Negro was better than colored -- at least it had a capital letter in the front! In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Afro-American was considered the best moniker, and eventually we settled on African American or Black/black. It is kind of hard to forgive Harry Reid for not keeping up with the rules, confusing as they probably are to most non-African Americans. So, yeah, he blundered big-time; off with his head!

People, we need to cut the crap and start talking about these things without fear of losing our jobs, our families or our lives, for heaven's sake. Rather than calling for Reid's resignation, we should be trying to figure out a) what caused him to choose to say Negro; b) why the truth of what he said is so threatening to both sides of the issue, that we would prefer to waste time arguing about whether he is a racist rather than discuss the points he made; c) why the President of the United States has to spend time defending his friend who had a lapse in verbal judgment instead of tending to the less sexy issues of war, terrorism, joblessness, poorly-functioning federal departments and people who simply want to annihilate us; and d) why CNN last night chose to replace Larry King with Soledad O'Brien and assemble a panel of three African American women , one young, black male journalist, and one token white male, James Carville, to have a discussion about Harry Reid's "transgressions."

What were the suits at CNN thinking????????? Did they think Larry King couldn't handle the topic? Couldn't they find any white women brave enough to join the discussion? Can only black people and people who worked for the honorary "first Black President" (Bill Clinton) have anything valid to say about this topic? I would bet that not one viewer learned anything at all from the panel discussion, with the possible exception that yes, there is such a thing as a conservative Republican who is a black woman!

Shame on CNN!

How to Leave A Comment

Quite a few of my readers have let me know by alternate means that they have not been able to figure out how to leave a comment after reading my posts. Based on the site meter, I suspect there are many others having this problem, so here's what to do:

1. Scroll down to the bottom of the Comment box to the drop-down menu named Comment As
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3. To create a Google account scroll down on the right side-bar, under the About Me section, where you can opt to become a Follower. There you will see a link that will allow you to create a Google account.

Your comments are very important, because they help me build my readership, but they certainly aren't required. I just wanted to make sure those that wanted to comment are able to do so.

Thanks for visiting Senior Moments of Clarity.

Children Are Not Chess Pieces

Last night NBC did a two-hour Dateline report on David Goldman, the young father whose wife pretended to take their then 4-year-old son Sean back to her native Brazil for a vacation. Instead, after arriving in Brazil with Sean, the wife called David and let him know that she had left him and their marriage, and intended to keep Sean in Brazil. For the next five or so years, Sean's parents engaged in an international battle, with David charging his wife with parental kidnapping, and, after her tragic death in childbirth, fighting for the return of his biological son from the boy's stepfather and maternal grandparents.


What struck me most, as I watched the program, is the profound trauma this child suffered and the utter disregard for his psychic well-being on the parts of all the parties involved in Brazil. In his short life, Sean has endured:

• being hi-jacked by his mother at the expense of his father;
• adjusting to a divorce and remarriage by his mother;
• the rare death of his very young mother in childbirth;
• the confusing visits of his father David, who would appear and disappear periodically;
• the attempt by his Brazilian family to erase the child's love and memory of his father by withholding letters and gifts sent from the U.S. by David, and allegedly telling Sean that David was a bad father;
• the public spectacle of being marched through the streets by his stepfather and grandmother surrounded by a mob of rabid paparazzi in order to finally transfer custody to David;
• being thrust into a "family celebration" with people he may very well have forgotten, and
• returning to New Jersey to a familiar but different house and a school where his fractured, forgotten English would be a hindrance to his adjustment.

How exactly is a nine-year-old supposed to have collected the skills and emotional foundation to cope with all this nonsense? He appears to be a people pleaser, the kind of personality that shoves down real feelings in order to keep the peace and avoid hurting the feelings of anyone, especially adults. He has put on a happy face, albeit with eyes that are slightly vacant, while his American family does whatever it can to spin the story in their favor. At some point, the price of adults behaving badly will be paid at least by this innocent child, and likely by others with whom he tries to develop relationships. And who won? Clearly not Mom or her extended family. David? He lost five years of a once highly productive life and wonderfully awesome early years of a child's development. He seems to have won the battle, but will he ultimately lose the war, especially if Sean manifests these traumas via problematic behavior or emotional problems?

Children deserve better. They are people, not property that should populate parental battlefields. They don't ask to come here, they have no say in who their parents are or who they become, and they get no vote on the outcome when things go haywire. But when the time comes to pay...

Your Bureaucracy at Work

It's a good thing I'm in a good mood today. My most recent encounter with the government on any other day may well have evoked a temper tantrum.

During the last week in December, I was given a special assignment by a local small business. It was a tedious, mindless project but it required 15 hours to complete. As a result, I earned about $400 more than is allowed by the GA Department of Labor's Unemployment Insurance laws without them deducting that amount, dollar for dollar, from my weekly benefits payment.
Well, call me crazy, but for some reason that information, although written in clear English on the web page used to certify for weekly payments, just seemed plain wrong. Surely they can't mean that they expect me to work 15 hours to earn almost the same amount as they were sending me for doing nothing at all!

As usual, I tried to get around the fact that also written in that same plain English on that same web page "We have received your information but we cannot pay your claim. You must report to your local Unemployment Insurance office." Nah, I thought, that can't be right. Why would they make me drive the 8 miles to the office, wait in their stupid lines, fill out forms that don't really apply to the situation, and endure another round of so-called "orientation.?"

So I wrote an email to the local office explaining my situation, thinking that by doing so I would be able to avoid what I felt was an unnecessary trip. This was on a Sunday evening. I was shocked to see a response in my email the very next morning. The message, while very pleasant and very apologetic, assured me that it would indeed be necessary to appear in person.

So, yes, in their infinite wisdom, our state government has created a circumstance that discourages citizens from seeking intermittent opportunities to earn a few dollars while they continue to search for permanent, full-time employment by not only yanking their benefit for the week, but also by punishing them for doing so by forcing them to spend two hours jumping through their horribly hostile hoops. Nice.