In the 60s when I was in college, we heard a lot about the newly-established Peace Corps and also VISTA (Volunteers in Service To America). VISTA was the homeland's version of the Peace Corps, and they were always seeking individuals who might want to help in impoverished places within Tennessee or maybe West Virginia.
When first hearing about the Peace Corps, what I was drawn to was the idea of helping people help themselves -- the old story of giving someone some fish for one meal, or teaching someone to fish for a lifetime of meals. To me it made sense and it still does. I'm honestly convinced that there are not many people on this earth who just want a handout. Oh, they might think that's what they want, but there is purpose in work and effort. Once an individual gets that feeling of worth from their work, it changes them much for the good.
Another thing I did back in the 60s was work for Cuyahoga County during my summers at home. The first two summers, 1965 and 1966 were spent at 24th and Payne at the Welfare Building. I walked from the bus station terminus at 15th, a long nine block stretch past the police station and unsavory bars. A brick hothouse of a building, the welfare building was not air conditioned and we were sent home if the temperature inside reached around 95 as I recall. I don't recall that ever happening. We ( a large group of women) were on the fourth floor working at desks in a wide expanse broken only by support pillars. At each desk was an electric typewriter and a Dictaphone machine. Stored on the desktop were disks that fit into the Dictaphone sized like 45 rpm records.
My job was to transcribe the recorded words of case workers for eight hours a day, five days a week. We used good quality paper and had to hand correct any mistakes we made, so I ended up buying the equivalent of white-out which at that time was handheld correction tape. Helped immensely. Once we selected a disk, we had to go to the adjacent records department and ask for the file folder for that client. Some of the folders were really thick, meaning that this welfare client had been known to the county for a long time. In the files behind the caseworker's notes, there were newspaper clippings sometimes -- robberies, accidents, murders, shootings, assaults.
The caseworkers were overloaded but did their best to make visits in a timely manner. One of the key things they were looking for was signs that a man, a husband, or the father was staying at the home because that negated the client's qualifications for getting welfare. Even at that time, the idea that the men were not welcome in the home made me wonder what sort of effect this was going to have. Essentially, this policy made it illegal for a father figure to be present in the home. It created the matriarchal arrangement that still dominates many poor neighborhoods. Getting the handout came at a price, and although caseworkers tried, no one was learning to fish.
It was a system and each client was a number.
The second summer, I was sent downstairs to "Intake" one day to drop off some paperwork. I'd never been down there before because we entered the building from a separate entrance. I was ill prepared for the cacophony of sounds and sad souls in that area, people who had reached the last straw and were there to try and get help. My emotions were really shaken that day by what I saw and from that point on, the case histories were something much more profound -- they were the stories of life's failures on so many levels.
As naïve as I was back then, what was missing in the system was so obvious. We weren't helping anyone in the long run, and the craziness continues to this day because no one has come up with something that might actually work. Generations of children have grown up in dysfunctional homes where the caseworker is a spy for the system. Caseworkers made notoriously low pay and work in difficult conditions and there is turnover.
How much would it cost to teach people to fish?
As I picked up another file, it was yet another person's story. One that began with an innocent baby with potential and possibilities. A child of God created in the image and likeness of God. A child created with abilities and talents. There must be better ways.
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