Death, taxes and the coming of the storm

My 94-year-old father-in-law nearly died last night.

To put things in perspective, Pop has generally enjoyed good health and is one of those people who loves living life. He sleeps a lot, of course, and between naps he eats and takes walks down his farmhouse lane in Rising Sun, Maryland. His farm, 200 years old, is a Nottingham Lot of some historical interest.

Two days ago, Pop came down with a fever. After much deliberation and the visit of a doctor who makes house calls, he was taken by ambulance to the local hospital where he was diagnosed with pneumonia and severe dehydration. He is still there, in a private room because he is contagious.

We almost said "no" to the doctor's hospital recommendation. At 94, Pop has lived life to its fullest and loves being at home. But he was in pain, and not quite ready for hospice. So off the hospital he went.

Our family is fortunate in the sense that money wasn't a consideration in our decision. I have had a good career in business, and now have the luxury of choices that are not driven by economics. I understand better than anyone how lucky I am.

For most American families making healthcare decisions today, however, economics is the first consideration. We are a nation that chooses who lives and dies based on the size of their credit card balances.

How have we arrived at a place in time where so many wealthy people are fighting to preserve a for-profit health system built on the two pillars of class and privilege? As I sit here on this beautiful Nottingham Lot in Maryland, I find it impossible to address this question except through the lens of history.

In the late 1600's, the second Lord Baltimore, Cecil Calvert, had a relative named George Talbot. Talbot, an Irishman who became Surveyor General of Maryland, was granted a patent for a huge tract of land of 32,000 acres known as the Susquehanna Manor to help settle English and Irish immigrants in Maryland. Talbot was an adventurous man who became embroiled in a series of turbulent events, including a murder that resulted in his forfeiture of the Manor. William Penn used his dominant position to carve out over half of the former Susquehanna Manor for the new Nottingham settlement at the turn of the century.

Penn's original tract was divided into lots running north and south, resulting in 37 lots. Each lot averaged approximately 500 acres and each was numbered between 1 and 37. It is generally believed that prospective owners made selections by the drawing of lots - hence, the use of the term "Lots."

As a person of native American heritage, few things unhinge me more than the assertion of privilege by white "patriots" on the right who claim that this is "their" country. Which may help explain the depth of my political anger. The "Lots" that William Penn granted to settlers, like the land you're sitting on today in North America, were taken by force from indigenous people who had lived here for centuries.

From all I can see, the practice of white domination and privilege is alive and well even today. From businesses like Variety Wholesalers, built on the backs of the poor, to laws enriching the funeral industry, to the rationing of healthcare based on personal wealth, the pattern of the white rich getting richer while others suffer is the story of our lives.

In the novel Coming of the Storm, Michael and Kathleen Gear fictionalize American Indian resistance to the murderous de Soto in the mid-1500s. In describing the white invaders, a character named Blood Thorn says, "They are maggot men without honor, and their given word is no more sacred than dog shit."

Blood Thorn might say the same thing about the wrecking crew in charge of the North Carolina General Assembly today. I certainly would.