If you're really a glutton for punishment you can look up the Facebook page of many of the people profiled.
My mom told me this week she was glad to hear my voice when I called to check in. But that was after a well planned hiking trip where she knew my plan in advance and had GPS tracking of my location. Up to this point I didn't think this article would make me cry, but wow. While our lives took very different paths, the concerns of our loved ones are very similar.“I need to hear you are alright.”
You mention luck and privilege in this week's pubski. This article makes me think more of my own luck and privilege than reading this on a smartphone in an airport on a weekday while getting paid time off does. Reading this feels like reading about life in 18th century China. It's completely foreign. It's hard to understand that this is real life right now for many people.
Sometimes, I think that's an engineered design feature of social stratification. It's a lot easier to live with the decisions we make if we don't have to stare the consequences in the face.It's hard to understand that this is real life right now for many people.
I don't know that my neighbor died from an overdose. I don't know that his wife is still addicted. I know he was a welder. I know he worked hard. I know he bought his house in 1988. I know a piece of ship fell on him and broke his back. I know he was laid up with disability for the better part of a year. I know he went back to work. I don't know that he was prescribed painkillers. I know his wife went on disability for carpal tunnel. I know she's got prescribed painkillers. I know that prescription painkillers when you're on disability are a $10 copay. I know oxycontin is 10 times that without, and I know that there's an economy in disability Oxy. I don't know that the random dudes who show up every other day are trading drugs. I don't know that they're shouting all the time with slurred speech because they're out of their fuckin' minds. I don't know that the ropes of scarring across the kid's back are related to child abuse. I don't know that the story about him having a heart attack because he was taking too many diet pills while working out at the club is bullshit. I know he was in his 60s, and I know he was retired, and I know I never saw him exercise. I don't know that their daughter drives around as much as she does in pursuit of a fix. I don't know that she was high when she totaled her car, which still sits out front like a mute testament to narrowing options, diminishing mobility and vanishing hope. I know that they worked hard, now they don't, and one of them is dead, and I come from a long line of welders.