Although it seems ubiquitous, politicking is not a national pastime, it requires time and energy, and so it is less a working man’s game than a diversion for the middle class or people of means. It’s unfortunate that this is so, because politicians make so many of the decisions that adversely impact on those most in need. This became apparent to me during the months that I rode the bus.

Busses run on schedule, as do the people who board them, and after a while there would be familiar faces, perhaps a smile and occasionally a conversation. Someone commented on my frog ring and the conversation would drift towards a discussion of other water dwellers and we might end up talking about fishing. I used to go salt water fishing in my salad days and the other party fished only in lakes and streams, and from them on we would wave or talk and then one day I was asked to help myself to candy from a large bag. So many haimish ponem all around me. However, despite conversations bemoaning the high price of oil and the cost of children’s sneakers ( all kids know the designer names and just try and settle for less!) I could never engage anyone in serious talk about the leaders of this country. A shake of the head sometimes when the President’s name was mentioned, but no one seemed to give a darn about who his replacement might be and who might be playing congressional musical chairs after the next election and by the way, the word election wasn’t the word of choice, either.

Let’s face it. Politics is not the top priority for most of America. Neither is flag burning or gay marriage although they seem to top the legislative agenda in Washington. In the United States, it was interesting to note that between 1947 and 1973, the income for families appeared to double somewhat, and surprisingly, it grew faster for the working class and the poor than it did for the rich. Post 1970’s, the income of blue collar families has remained at a low and the only reason it hasn’t descended farther is because women, in large numbers, came into the work force. In point of fact, today, the average two parent family works approximately 12 weeks more a year than it did in 1969. Unable to compete with overseas wages, employers have reduced health benefits and done away with defined-benefit pensions. Of course, the federal government has not stepped in to fill the gaps; it has in actuality backed away just like the private sector. Food stamps and unemployment benefits have become harder to obtain and taxes appear to be less progressive.

In a recent NY Times article, Peter Beinart says that government cannot just tell people that we’re all in it together, but must show them, although that’s not what has been done in recent decades. He goes on to say, “One result has been a rise in public cynicism and a retreat from political participation, which leaves government easy prey for the forces of private interest and concentrated wealth.”

Although I don’t think that my bus people are so sophisticated that they have purposefully retreated from political participation, their basic needs are not being met vis-à-vis Maslow’s hierarchal pyramid of food, shelter and safety, which includes health care and employment. Therefore, they don’t have the interest or the luxury of time and energy to immerse themselves in trying to right the wrongs in this country, which are many. How can they? Many are still working at the minimum wage of 1997, while their leaders reject an increase, time and again, simultaneously awarding themselves more money in their own pay envelopes.

It’s a real catch 22. The people who need help the most are beaten down by the system, and they’re clueless as to how to push for change. They don’t go to protest marches – they don’t have time after finishing job #2 which they hold to survive- and they use TV as a soporific because they don’t need the challenge of a c-span at the end of the day.

There’s a huge difference between inertia and exhaustion and my people of the bus know that only too well. When they say that they don’t have any money, they mean just that. What’s left of their last pay check is probably in the double digits and the low ones to boot. When my acquaintances complain that they’re broke, it means that a trip to Aspen is out for this year. There’s a great divide out there and many of us feel, from time to time, that we’re on a slippery slope, struggling to stay above the divide.