I AWOKE this particular morning early, before my alarm went off, and soon was pretty much absorbed in the usual list of daily worries.
A growing list of healthcare expenses limiting overall spending. High gas prices. Lack of resources and time to take a long-discussed family vacation out of the country.
As I worried away, I soon found myself pretty much focused on a new question, and my negative answer to it saddened me to my core.
The question that popped into my head was this - will my three daughters live a better life than I have lived? Would I really and truly want to live their lives in the next 40 to 50 years?
I am doubtful that their lives will be easy. I’m concerned that the financial decisions we’ve made as individual Americans and as a country will present them with challenges that I personally wouldn’t want to face.
It goes beyond medical expenses that seem to rise without limit and fuel costs that are at historic levels. It also appears to be a world of jobs shifting overseas, American companies that are no longer competitive, a housing market that appears volatile and overly costly, and a host of other challenges.
As a journalist, I read (and sometimes write) these stories everyday. You’ve read them, too. Companies reducing workforces by 5 percent, or 10 percent, or 20 percent. Millions of people without health insurance, with their care costs being shuffled around like a hot potato, masking the fact that we all end up paying for it. Families living in poverty and fear in America’s cities, while we market a culture built on conspicuous consumption.
Those are the obvious economic pain points. There are economic paths we are following of which I’m not sure we fully understand the impact. How does a national debt of trillions of dollars - amounting to hundreds of thousands of dollars for every person in this country - affect the long-term sustainability of this country? We may think two large oceans and an enormous military makes us invulnerable, but have we instead put our faith in a house of cards simply because we have run up a tab that we can never repay? What if the creditors come calling?
I recently viewed some public television documentaries on World War II, and what struck me most was the collective will of the country to share in the sacrifice needed to win the war. My parents’ generation did without gas, sugar and food, surrendered metal so it could be used for war machinery, and bought war stamps when they didn’t have spare money to spend. They sent sons and daughters off to combat and uncertain fates, and thousands never returned.
Since then, we’ve managed to fight a series of unpopular conflicts, the current being perhaps the most difficult to understand and support. It’s definitely not the same nation and culture that mobilized through dark hours some 65 years ago.
For all the blessings of technology and instant communication, we are disconnected and isolated from each other. For all the gifts of wealth and possessions, individually and corporately, we can’t corral the urge to want more, no matter how it’s done or at whose expense it comes.
For all the lip service given to healthcare reform, for example, it’s discouraging that there’s recognition of a looming disaster but little leadership and will to do anything about it. That the Medicare Trust Fund is running out of money is no surprise - that’s been known for the last two decades. As an industry, we’ve done little to forestall it. When that trust fund runs dry, it’s not doomsday, but the petty, turf-centered battles over reform approaches may pale in comparison to the decisions we’ll be forced to make in about 10 years.
I’ll admit, this editorial is only thinly about healthcare. But I was so shaken by my answer to the question about my children’s futures, I vowed to do at least two things.
First, I promised to have you ask yourself the same question - are you optimistic about the lives your children will live? Second, if you’re discouraged about your answer, I ask you to live your conscience and do something about it.
This isn’t a plea for political change. A country and its culture is only as great as its commitment to future generations. If we can think ahead no further than the cost of gas the next time we fill up, instead of the greater good of our children, nation and world, woe is us. I don’t want to “wake up” in 20 years and realize I never did or said anything of consequence. Neither should you.