Move Beyond the Usual (Politics)

After last week’s debacle in Iowa, where nearly a week later, we still don’t know if the results are in fact valid, the chattering classes are asking, “why Iowa?” and even, “why New Hampshire?”

The horse race to November’s presidential election has begun in earnest. And as it’s been done now since 1920, presidential wannabes, political insiders, and self-appointed front-runners are forced to trudge through the cold and chill of a New England winter writ large. Running the gauntlet of retail politics is still being done in the age of Twitter—as it should be—in a very white state that doesn’t always mirror the rest of America. But to New Hampshire they all come.

During past campaigns, both my wife and I have traveled to Maine-based events together or on our own. I’ve seen Democrats like the Clintons, John Kerry, John Edwards, and Dennis Kucinich in-person. When I was a Republican, I attended events for George Bush. There’s something about seeing candidates in live settings that surpasses merely seeing them pixelated on a television screen.

On Saturday, we decided to make the 35-minute drive from Southern Maine and cross the border into neighboring New Hampshire to hear a long-shot candidate, Tulsi Gabbard. She was hosting a town hall in Rochester, at the Elks Lodge.

Why Gabbard? Both of us have been intrigued by her commercials running on the Portland station where we consume our morning news and get our weather from. Like other candidates I’ve supported: Kucinich, Ralph Nader, and in 2016, Jill Stein, Gabbard projects something different than the typical business-as-usual politics common during DNC-influenced dog-and-pony shows passed off as debates. Continue reading

Healthcare is Expensive

Four days a week, I take calls for a Maine-based healthcare provider. The calls run the gamut: people are sick, they want to fill their prescriptions (and there are lots of pills being pushed), or they make some variation on a common theme—demanding some kind of service (often that day), demonstrating how little they know about how broken our healthcare system really is.

Back in the late 1990s, I worked for another healthcare provider. We were an HMO, back when HMOs were supposed to save the day and reinvent medicine in America. More important in this discussion was that HMOs were expected to be the cost-containment deemed necessary at that juncture. HMOs did not save healthcare.

I really liked my gig back then. The organization was locally-managed and really had a humane, quality-focused approach to healthcare. Where I’m at now often reminds me of that time 20 years ago. However, the organization with skilled local management got swallowed like Jonah getting inhaled by the whale. A corporate giant vacuumed up the business based in Freeport and almost overnight, everything went downhill.  Profit became the primary motif and most of our group who were hired together to service a block of Midwestern business, scattered to the four corners of the work world. Some of us ended up at a disability insurer I’ve often referred to as Moscow Mutual. That’s another story I’ve written about, including in a book of essays that mainly ended up being relegated to the publishing dustbin.

Elizabeth Warren, one of the bloated field of Democrats, released details recently about her Medicare for All plan, her solution for overhauling American healthcare. As soon as Warren dotted the I’s and crossed the T’s of her plan, the critics crawled out from their corners, detailing why moving from a broken system to one covering everyone, lowering costs, and improving care outcomes won’t work. Continue reading

Democrats Plus One

Yesterday, the crowded field of Democrats grew by one. This morning, the pundits had more energy than I’ve seen in months. Amazingly, they were talking about someone other than Mayor Pete (still having trouble with “Boot-edge-edge”).

American culture is strewn with the iconic. In terms of popular culture—especially music and rock and roll—there are few icons bigger than Bruce Springsteen. Everyone knows what you’re talking about when you say, “The Boss.”

On our Easter Sunday drive into Maine’s western mountains, I had Springsteen on Spotify shuffle. I was holding court with Mary about why his music mattered and how we need to make a point of seeing him before he hangs up his Telecaster.

Yesterday, I had some late afternoon time to fill. Like I’ve done countless times before in my life with unstructured time, I ended up at a library looking for books.

Sitting on the shelf, calling my name was Peter Ames Carlin’s, Bruce. Not the only bio of The Boss, but one of the better ones, I’ve already read nearly 200 pages in less than 24 hours. Students at tutoring wanted to know what book I was toting around with me last night and I got to give them my own Springsteen story, of “Glory Days,” and what that song means in terms of my own smoldering baseball embers.

Bruce bio by Peter Ames Carlin (2012)

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