Good heart?

So, the government is shut down. I guess?

It's interesting how different my life with no television and cable is than those who subscribe to different media outlets.

I'm not proud of this, but the bulk of my info comes from social media. At the same time, it's an instant cross-reference from resources that range from people I knew in elementary school to public figures I've learned to respect through various careers and modes of learning.

A sweet friend of mine posted that the on base commissary will be closed after 8 pm tonight and there is a "huge sale" on all perishable foods.

My father buys most of his groceries from that place, as he is a military vet. I thought of him and wondered if he did his weekly shopping yet.

Then I started to think more... My mom bagged groceries there when I was in middle school. She always had odd jobs, as we were always just above the poverty line. After my father retired from the military, he also stocked some perishable food products and worked in the meat department. Not only did we depend on this institutionally run store for our food, but my parents earned the money with which we purchased this food at the same place. How difficult would this furlough have been to my 12 year old self? My hard-working parents who always barely made ends meet?

I called my dad to inform him of these developments. He was sitting down and paying bills and wasn't aware of the shut down, which is weird, because he has a TV and a Facebook account. Anyway, we start talking about it, why the shutdown even occurred, what affordable healthcare means and should mean, and then I brought up our shared past.

He could tell by the tremble in my voice that I was getting upset and asked me not to. "This doesn't have anything to do with you, Angie," he said, in vain attempt to comfort me. But it DOES. It has everything to do with me. I could be the kid with overworked overstressed underpaid parents in the shit town just outside the army base. I know that kid. I was that kid. My best friend now teaches those kids in the same halls of the middle school we once attended.

So I cried. And we talked some more. And my dad kept saying he knows I have a good heart, but I shouldn't let this stress me out because I have my own stresses.

I don't mind feeling the pain of others. That's fine by me. I'd rather feel it than be numb to it like most others.