How Can I Help>

So, I'm reading this book for my Social Justice class entitled: "How Can I Help?: Stories and Reflections on Service" By Ram Dass and Paul Gorman, and although I haven't finished the book yet, this is probably my favorite story. I simply like the story, it's fair to say there's a "deeper message" but to me it just is a good story. So here it goes:

"I'll give you a day in the life.

I work in this program with juvenile offenders, ex-drug addicts mostly. And I'm with this very tough, smart kid who tells me, 'I got no time for programs, man. I seen programs' And I feel like saying, 'Me neither. I'm not so crazy about programs myself.' But here they are and there we were.

'Whadda you know?' he says. 'You're just a social worker. Social workers are nowhere. Social workers don't understand shit.' And he's saying that a little angry and provocative. But it's a little wry, too. He was playing. And I was liking him at that moment, liking his style.

So I go, 'Yeah, all right. But that's all you think I am, a social worker? You don't see anybody here but a social worker?' I was up for playing too.'Well, you got a degree, right? They teach you about other people's troubles, right? That's how you got this job. You the Fixer, right?'

'Sure I got a diploma. I got a wife too. And I got a TV. And I'm into the Boston Celtics. If I'm just a social worker, maybe you're just an ex-junkie. Is that all that's happening here?'

Well, he sort of paused, and he heard it. And there was this moment where I felt something was about to get off the ground, like we were going to get past all this. It sort of hung there, one of those moments when you can feel possibility; maybe we can make it after all. And then...it was like we just missed. You could feel it get close and then pass by. And I swear he sensed that too.

He said, 'You got no idea where I am, man.' And I said, 'Well, you got no idea where I am.' He was being straight. I was being straight. Maybe we'd make it another time. Maybe we needed that honesty. But it was frustrating, because it got so close. I really liked this kid. Like, if we could have talked basketball...

So...bad day, or at least a frustrating one. Anyhow, I come home, lay back, and my wife comes in and tells me she's thinking about quitting her job at the hospital. I sort of half groan and half laugh. I'd been hoping she'd be the one who'd have it together that evening. We take turns being the one who has it together.

'Okay, what's the matter?'

'It's like prison. You've either got an ID badge and a stethoscope or you're flat on your back helpless. It's Us and Them, the sick and the healthy. The patients get bugged, we get bugged, everybody gets bugged. I can't stand the roles and the distances. It's not a hospital -- it's a prison!' And she's laughing a little, but it's a strong feeling. And then she gives me this classic, exasperated line, again laughing, "I don't want to be a nurse, I just want to help!'

So I say, 'Poor kid...' and give her a hug, because it's obviously been one of those days. And I say something like, 'Well, I don't want to be a social worker either. Social workers don't understand shit. But what are we going to do? Who's going to feed the cat? How do we get out of jail?'

We laughed, and had chicken, and talked, and made love. And afterward she said, 'I'm still a little bit at the hospital.' And I said, 'I know, I'm still a little bit with that kid.'