Anyone that is a reader of my blog knows that my subject matter goes to any subject and from several points of view. I am mildly political, speak to dental excellence and any subject that catches my interest that just doesn't seem right. In the biggest picture, I speak in terms of doing the right thing for the right reason.
CNN had a story this afternoon about the National Football League voluntarily giving up its not-for profit tax status because it gives people the appearance of wealthy companies taking advantage of the rest of us. The article states:
The league saved only about $10 million a year from the tax break, according to the Citizens for Tax Justice. That's a rounding error for an enterprise the size of the NFL.
Can you imagine billionaire sports team owners thinking that 10 million dollars is a petty amount of money? What does this mean for the rest of us middle class folks? It means that when the big boys don't pay their fair share, you and I must make up the shortfall by paying higher taxes.
Remember what billionaire Leona Helmsley said before her trial for tax evasion:
"Only the little people pay taxes." (Then she went to prison.)
When you and I , the middle class, stops paying attention, lots of things happen to us and the country that does not meet the standard of "Do the Right Thing."
To the Editor:
“Facing Early Death, on Their Terms” (front page, March 29), about adolescents having a say in their own end-of-life planning, is poignant and powerful. There is arguably nothing more intimate and profound than how we are cared for and how we care for others in the hours of our mortal need.
So when you repeatedly use the term “provider” to describe those professionals in the caring arts — and yes, on our best days, the healing arts — it becomes an eloquently sad commentary on the state of medical care.
Language is so powerful that it not only reflects what and how we think of things, but it also directs what and how we think of things. The term “provider” for clinical caregivers, like the term “client” for patients, depersonalizes and commodifies that which is neither and so very much more.
The more we use these commercial terms to refer to intimate and personal care, the more that care becomes commercial and impersonal. Such is the power of language.
BARRY L. FARKAS
McKeesport, Pa.
The writer is a geriatrician and family physician.