Supervisors Get a Gentle Admonition: Open Your Hearts

Speaker after speaker, each one a fiscal expert or master of public policy, had reached the same conclusion: there was simply no way to stretch the county budget. Painful as it may be, the speakers said, some social services must go on the chopping block. The poor, the infirm, the children--they would all feel the cold blade of the budget knife.

The Board of Supervisors meeting room was cluttered with pie charts and bar graphs, all mounted on easels and all showing revenue sources and expenditures in a dizzying array of arrows and dotted lines that were overwhelming.

“We just don’t have the money for these programs, and people will have to understand that,” a county budget official said.

Board members sat glumly. “Nobody likes this,” one said. “But these are troubled times, and there’s no way to avoid it.” Other supervisors nodded in muted agreement.

A county official was about to roll up all the charts when a bearded man in the back of the meeting room raised his hand and asked to speak. “I hadn’t really planned on talking,” he said in a voice so soft in timbre that many in the room didn’t hear him.

“If you promise to be brief,” one of the supervisors said.

“I won’t take but a couple minutes,” said the man, who appeared to be about 30, medium-size, with shoulder-length sandy hair and wearing the most ordinary of garb. He moved his way down to the microphone. Few in the audience noticed that he was wearing sandals.

Some of the more veteran county officials exchanged knowing glances. Although they didn’t recognize this fellow, they had seen his type a thousand times before--one of those bleeding hearts. A guy who probably never had to balance a budget in his life. What the heck, they thought, let him have his say.

“This should be a joyous holiday season,” the man began, “but for many it won’t. There are many lost souls in this county, some without enough food, some without enough clothing, some without a place to live. There are many who stand in line each month at shelters for a couple sacks of groceries, sometimes as long as an hour or more.”

The people in the audience began to fidget. Oh, God, some of them were thinking, why do people like this always have to get up on their soapbox. Don’t they know we feel bad enough already?

“I’ve heard today of reductions of services to children, to the elderly, and to the sick,” the man continued. “These are the people that every society wishes it didn’t have to take care of, but which it must take care of. No civilized society, once it spawns these groups of people, can turn its back on them.

“You say you don’t have the money. What is the cost of not caring for a child whose parents have either abandoned him or abused him? Do you truly think that you won’t be paying for that same person somewhere down the line? And probably paying a much greater cost for a life that could have been salvaged while there was still a chance?”

“Sir,” one of the supervisors said, “I think we all see where you’re going with this, and we all sympathize, but we can’t do what you want us to do. There’s no money. Period.”

The man smiled. Normally, the supervisors would want to give the old heave-ho to a guy spouting this kind of stuff, but this one was different. He wasn’t confrontational, not accusatory. Actually, he had kind of a soothing presence to him.

“I’ve traveled around the county,” he went on. “This is a place of immense wealth. The homes, the harbors, the executive suites, the shopping centers--they are all repositories of riches. And I mean to offend no one when I say that the wealth accrued by some was due to no more personal endeavor than was the poverty accrued by so many others around them.”

Even the audience had to chuckle at that one. They knew lots of people who stumbled into their lofty station in life through sheer dumb luck.

“I’m simply saying, don’t judge these people,” the man said. “They are suffering enough, and their problems don’t go away because the economy is slumping. Now is not the time to abandon them.”

“But the money . . . ,” an exasperated supervisor said.

“The answers aren’t there on the charts and graphs,” the man said. “They are in the hearts of men and women. Commit yourself to solving these problems. You all have access to the richest and most influential people in the county. Make it your calling to improve the lives of the suffering children and the poor. You will be rewarded beyond your expectations.”

The supervisors looked at each other but said nothing.

“Do you have anything else to say,” one of them finally asked.

“Yes,” the man said. “Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works.”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.