Differing Definitions of Suffering; or, Some Days It's Difficult to Resist Swear Words

As much as I may refer to personal experience from time to time, I really do try to keep personal life personal, which is partly why I've quit my local Tiverton Patch column and am trying to withdraw a little from local politics. The other side, in Tiverton, has built its strategy around making local politics personal. (The husband of a former town councilor — she being one of the officials engaged in what appears to be a SLAPP suit against the president of the local taxpayer group — recently took the opportunity of a public hearing to inform the public about the taxes that his political opposition pays on their houses. Lots of integrity in that household, apparently.)

But a comment on one of the lingering threads in which I'm participating gives me a strange kind of hope that maybe, just maybe, there are some who honestly lack the perspective to consider all sides of the debate. Jon Devolve teaches physical education in Tiverton and just left the following comment on the Patch site:

This is unreal! Justin, enough already with the comments about your family! We get it! You're struggling! My family is too! Do you think the people that respond to these posts really care? They all have their own agendas and opinions and that does not bother me! What bothers me is the constant stupidity this town subjects itself to!

Truly, I had to reread all of my comments to the thread, which mainly have to do with budget-related details for the town, and could only come up with the following as the spark for the backlash:

And yet, that year [that they supposedly experienced a budget cut at the financial town meeting, the school department] ended up with a surplus. I wish I could experience that sort of cut in my family's budget, rather than the actual reduction that Tiverton insists I accept year in and year out.

That's pretty mild, generic stuff. Here's my response to Jon:

What on Earth are you talking about? My reference to the fact that I'd love to experience the sort of cut in my household budget that actually winds up in a surplus, like the town's schools? Or the note that, every year, the town manages to cut my household budget by increasing taxes and fees?

Really, both points are true whether or not my family is struggling. I actually had to read all of the above comments to see whether I'd written something that I'd forgotten about.

But I do find it interesting that you're sick of my mentioning the fact of struggling, and I wouldn't want to create any discomfort among Tiverton teachers that their near-charity work for a district with such unhelpful demographics might come at a cost that causes hardship. (That's sarcastic, FYI.)

That said, I'm interested in your perception of struggling, Jon. You teach phys. ed, I believe, so your opinion is particularly relevant on my circumstance as a carpenter:

I was born with clubbed feet (meaning that my ankles turned inward), and I'm old enough that the operations required to fix it affected the muscular and skeletal structure of my legs for the rest of my life. (Fortunately, my younger cousin, with the same birth defect, didn't have nearly the same problem). Throughout last summer and much of the fall, I worked with old boot-like sneakers because I couldn't afford new boots with adequate ankle support. The cost of the boots, by the way, being less than the tax increase on my house for which the FTM voted.

I finally broke down and increased my debt to buy footwear because I couldn't stand the pain, but it looks to have been too late. Some nights I can barely walk. I force my way through the day, up and down ladders, because I have no choice. Next week, I'll see my general practitioner because, again, I cannot stand the pain. I expect that he'll advise either orthopedic shoes that I cannot afford or surgery that I cannot afford.

Is that the kind of suffering that you're tired of hearing about?

The personal details are just that. Whatever: each of us has his or her own challenges throughout the workday. Mine happens to combine the financial stress of my prior bad decisions with the reality of a physical deficiency. Nobody is to blame but me.

Still, my mind turns back to high school. I lettered in both soccer and pole vault, and I recall a conversation with an assistant soccer coach as he gave me a ride somewhere. When I wear shorts, it is impossible to miss the fact that my legs are not as they would normally be, and that being of interest in the course of our exchange, I noted my expectation of being wheelchair-bound before I was through with middle age. He was sympathetic and encouraging.

Mr. Devolve makes me wonder about teachers' truthfulness. In my coach's position, would he have said the same, or would he have expressed the likelihood that his labor union would do everything in its power to ensure that I would, nineteen years later, endure annual tax increases well above inflation in order to maintain salaries and benefits for town employees, even if it imposed tangible hardship with respect to my legs?

Honestly, I don't want to be greedy taxpayer guy, and knowing people who are poised to lose their houses, I don't want to inflate my problems beyond theirs. I may limp through it, but my workday still keeps me within range of paying my mortgage.

But Mr. Devolve's sensitivity to general and vague references to my family makes me think that some in the public sector really have no idea how greedy and obstinate they appear to members of the public.