Occupy Tight Places

In tribute to tomorrow's guest blogger who describes herself as being in a "perfect storm of tight places," I wanted to post here about the movement dedicated to tight places, a movement near and dear to my heart and this blog:  Occupy Wall Street.  Today, in my neighborhood, I discovered--with glee-- that the Fall '11 OWS of Zucotti Park of had been transported to my favorite city park, Tompkins Square, if only for  long afternoon.

(And I know, I know that this post's title can be overtly read as sexual and this is a family blog, so sorry.)

For some reason, I was only able to upload two of the hundreds of photos I took today to my Fb page via my Android.  :-(

Just like I loved it in the Fall, I loved the impromptu, yet cohesive OWS community I witnessed today:  the free food at the Food Not Bombs booth (given generously and without judgement), the free ice cream scooped by volunteers at Ben and Jerry's (this was new), and the myriad of tables representing different organizations all approaching the over-arching problem from a different angle.  I attended a Teach-in organized by doctor's and nurses advocates (Physicians for a National Health Program).  I collected fliers from Occupy the Circus (a political theater group), Food Drive for Occupy Animals, Occupy Hunger, Commission of Voluntary Service and Action, Occupied Stories, Shut Down the Corporations, Labor United for Postal Jobs and Services, etc.  

So what is the problem you say?  Not enough jobs, not enough affordable access to health care, crushing student loan debt and the super elite doing better than ever on the backs of us all--in other words, not enough taxes for the rich.  What else?  Stagnant wages in the lower and middle classes.  Please forgive my quick and dirty summation.  It doesn't really do the movement justice.

I can't stop thinking about this:  In 1976, my parents bought a new, albeit modest four-bedroom house in a decent Arizona neighborhood that was roughly the cost of my father's annual school-teacher salary.  Raise your hand if you are currently a school teacher and your annual salary roughly matches the cost of a new, albeit modest four-bedroom house in mid-sized city in a western state.  Hands?  I'm waiting.

What happened?  I'm all ears.