ethel’s words

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What about the poor, Mr. Next-President? What are you going to do for the poor? Are you going to attack our worsening and worsening poverty in this rich nation?

We have become so fascist, so elitist, so nationalist, we need not be racist any more to flaunt our superiority.

What can you do for the poor people, Mr. Next-President? Will the stiff-necked Senators help you help the poor? No. Will the smug ones in the House of Representatives, so willing to give trillions for the murder of unfortunate helpless persons--will they give to our poor? I fear, no.

The poor are huddled, indeed. I see them huddled in doorways in winter, trying to not freeze to death. I see them huddled, trying to help each other, in the fire-trap, death-trap deteriorated houses and shacks.

Just slow down your limo, Mr. Next-President--or better, walk--around the inner cities, or see the places we used to call “pockets of poverty”. Now we have ripped gashes of suffering.

And I tell you, Mr. Next-President, when hope is gone, your people, your country-fellows, have nothing left but to die in misery and despair.

Despair, Mr. Next-President. Despair.

Will you address that? Will you declare there is no tolerance for despair on this rich continent?

Ethel C. Hale