It has been a long while since I last posted something here. To those who seem to believe that the world of blogs is the only way life happens that would mean I have been doing nothing. Of course that is not the case. We have been busy working on getting our summer plans together, holding our monthly meetings and of course closely following the events that are shaping up our November ticket.
But today I am moved to write because I have been inspired by a subject that surrounds and touches us all. That would be death.
Death surrounds two people I know, one you have all heard much about, George Dunne, and one you have heard nothing about, Joseph L. Smith. Both leave me feeling like I am losing something more that a life. Let me share.
George Dunne died and was buried this week past. I knew George Dunne in two ways: as the President of the Cook County Board, a guy in the paper who was a political power house from the time I was a kid and the man who gave me a start in my career as a health care professional. The second way I came to know George Dunne was as a fellow committeeman. As a thirty year old new committeeman in 1993 George Dunne was legendary. He was a former Chairman of the Cook County Democratic Party, a brave man who stood with Harold Washington when he won the primary, and a guy who ran the county government for as long a Daley had been Mayor.
It was humbling to sit as an equal with a man you had seen growing up shape this city into what it was. The really nice thing was that George always went out of his way to make the new kid from the Northside feel welcome. Even though we both knew that I came from a ward that would never be like his and that our politics were in some ways worlds apart I was made to feel one of the guys. Those first couple of years I watched all of my fellow committeemen and tried to learn everything I could from each of them. The respect they showed George was immense and when someone would say during a difficult time “George, what do you think?”, some of the people we think of today as great leaders would stop whatever they were saying and listen. We all listened to George and we all respected his words of wisdom.
I think we have already seen that over time the Central Committee has changed. The dynamics that made it invincible are going and in many cases gone. The passing of George Dunne reminds me of the days of 80 pieces working towards one goal, a unity we now seem to be able achieve only in Novembers these days.
So who is Joe Smith? In all of are lives we have meet someone named Joe Smith, but the Joe Smith I am speaking of is not the same one you are thinking of. When it real comes down to it very few people know my Joe Smith and those few who do would be very unlikely to be reading a blog or even a computer. My Joe Smith is an 82 year old man, born in poorest part of Mobile, Alabama before the Great Depression. It was difficult for him to tell you when the depression started or ended because in his home life was always in the depression.
When he was 18 years and 9 months as he likes to tell it, Joe Smith moved up north. He came through Chicago on his way to Detroit and he never left. He met his soon to be wife Minnie shortly after getting here and married her without knowing that he would be fortunate to spend the next 55 years with her. He took various jobs doing what he could. He wasn’t a well educated man but that shouldn’t be understood to mean he was dumb because he wasn’t. Finally after a couple of years, he caught a break and got on with the Chicago Board of Education as a janitor. After he had been there for years and years the opportunity came up to be a fireman for the heating system and he went to night school with guys half his age so that he could make for a better life. Over time Joe went to work each day, went to church on Sundays and spent his life doing the right this society calls on a man to do. He and Minnie grew old and the time came after a lifetime of commitment to the schools to retire.
Joe and Minnie had some good years retired until suddenly out of nowhere one day Minnie became ill and within days she passed. For the first time in more than 50 years Joe was alone, but he went on with life, kept going to church, and even became a deacon. He spent his days helping those in need at the church, kept up his little house and yard, traveled home once a year to Alabama, voted, paid taxes and enjoyed life as best he could alone. Joe and Minnie never had any kids unfortunately, but he did have a favorite great niece he thought of as a daughter who had followed his path many years latter and left that same part of Alabama and came to Chicago. She moved in with him and stayed there until she became my bride.
A couple of year ago Joe was diagnosed with emphysema. Like most smokers he had smoked a life time, 45 years. He quickly quit and all was reasonably well until just after the first of the year when he started having more problems breathing. In March it became clear that something was seriously wrong and after tests and more tests he was diagnosed with lung cancer. Since then Joe, or as we know him, Uncle Joe, has been living with my wife Tanya and I. Many people, doctors, nurses and others continue to tell us how unusual that is, but how else could it be? He needed his family and we were it.
For all of April and most of May Uncle Joe had radiation and chemo. Both ended before they were supposed to, never a good sign, because he was too sick to take it. Faster than the cancer itself the treatment was killing him. We have been through some difficult times over the past two months. The Fire department knows us now because of the many ambulance visits. People at the hospital and the pharmacy know us as well. The doctor who was treating him for the cancer was great and kept us hopeful, so it came as a harsh blow when but the doctor covering for the weekend told us that this was a time to make him comfortable when we were asking him about making him better. Things had changed quickly and it was a cold shot of reality delivered in an unexpected way. “Its time to start looking for a Hospice” without any warning was a hard blow.
So we were faced with the decision of home hospice or a skilled care center, i.e. nursing home, became our choices if you can call it a choice. Our health care system in the U.S. has one path for your basic working family because unless you have great wealth or a great of time home is not an option. Hospice requires 24 hours a day, 7 days a week care for the patient. Most of it could be done by untrained friends or family, but realistically for how long? No employer is going to give you however long it takes. No individual could do it alone. And after taking a look around at who was really available to help we now understand why everyone kept saying that not everyone would agree to do this for someone.
So one day this week Uncle Joe will become a resident of one of our neighborhood nursing homes. The people at the home will become another group of people who come to know us well as we travel the last miles of his journey through life. The Hospice team will come and make sure he is as comfortable as possible, although they cannot make it as comfortable as being in his own home would be. And during his stay, we will spend all of his life savings in a couple of months. During those two months we will be selling his little home and his car to pay a few more months and finally, a man who worked his entire life and did everything the way he was suppose to, will lose everything he spent his life working for and end up on public aid with a thirty dollar a month allowance from the nursing home. Something is profoundly wrong with that system. Its hard to be angry that his life was too short or that he had so much life to do, but it is very upsetting that somehow he can’t die at his home where he wants to. Something needs to change, but in reality most Americans have little concern for how we die. Its uncomfortable to think about and so far away. That is too bad.
Given what is going on in my life, perhaps it will be a while before I post again. I have not forgotten you, I am tending to more important business. Bloging is not a necessity even in this bloging gone wild world. I am reachable by email (davidfagus@49thward.com) or phone, (773) 973-4949. If you need something I am here and easily found.
