The “War on Poverty,” and the impact of public policy In his first State of the Union address in January 1964, President Lyndon B. Johnson told Congress that “many Americans live on the outskirts of hope—some because of their poverty, and some because of their color, and all too many because of both.” Johnson declared “unconditional war on poverty in America” and challenged Congress to act on income, jobs, health, education, and housing. Johnson’s call was propelled by the civil rights movement and its dual struggle for equal political rights and tangible economic justice for all. After all, the name of 1963’s March on Washington was “The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom,” which included in its demands “a massive federal program” for all unemployed workers—black and white—and a minimum wage that “will give all Americans a decent standard of living.” In 1967-8 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. prophetically urged America, as his friend, the late Vincent Harding...
After a few short days on the inpatient Psych bed waitlist, I simply could not take it anymore. Wait, allow me to back up a bit. . . A couple of weeks ago I had an appointment with my mental health practitioner. I wrote about all of the tears and thinking that resulted from that appointment right after the event (See Part I of this series on Depression, please). I also shared at that time that I was urged to allow myself to be immediately hospitalized for inpatient stabilization and medication adjustments as well as resuming intense therapy. I refused the immediate hospitalization believing I had things to take care of at home that were far more important than this bout of depression. I did, however, agree that I would allow my practitioner to place me on a wait list for an inpatient bed at the hospital's stabilization unit. My practitioner said it could be many weeks before a bed was available for me. Unfortunately, that bed did not open soon enough to benefit me by stabilizing...
It is not often that I take the time to write about myself in my blog posts. There are so many things that are much much more fun to write about. Yet, every now and then I have an experience or witness something that moves me to the core of my being. Many who know me may this may find it difficult to read and even more challenging to process and understand. All I can say is that I must write and get this out. I make no apologies. The past month has been one of the most difficult of my life, all fifty years of it. I have been out of touch with everyone, even my best friends and family. For reasons I truly do not understand at all, I have been depressed. No one close to me died, no discernible changes in my relationship status. No lost job or pets. As a matter of fact nothing truly bad or negative at all. Today I had an appointment with my therapist and psychiatrist. I cannot remember I Time other than when my father passed away that I have cried so hard. Sobbed. Bawled the ugly ugly ...
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