MS Speaks

Was it President Reagan back in the 1980s who told of a woman using Food Stamps in a supermarket to buy  steak?

There have been many letters to the editor in newspapers over the years on this topic.

As a nation the US is often so lacking in compassion that it's appalling. This mean, suspicious attitude toward our neighbors isn't going away, as a Nation article (February 18, 2015) points out:

http://www.thenation.com/blog/198369/why-do-americans-feel-entitled-tell-poor-what-eat?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_term=email_nation&utm_campaign=Email%20Nation%20%28NEW%29%20-%20Most%20Recent%20Content%20Feed%2020150219&newsletter=email_nation#

In my state SNAP (formerly Food Stamps) benefits can come to you directly deposited into your checking account. You don't need to present any stamps or card at the checkout line. This is an improvement over the old system, where everyone in the checkout line could observe you using your Food Stamps.


Many Food Stamp recipients are or have been (unpaid) mothers of small kids. If they receive a Welfare check, it amounts to a fraction of what it costs them to raise those children.

I've seen them riding city buses long distances, carrying those children, just to shop at remote supermarkets because there was none in their immediate vicinity.

I know they put together what meals they can in kitchens with inadequate stoves and refrigerators. Kitchens crawling with roaches, mice, and rats because greedy landlords refuse to maintain the buildings--and blame the tenants, and get away with that.

We as a nation begrudge the poor the small bit of help that they're getting from SNAP benefits?

There are people in my building who routinely go through the dumpsters looking for aluminum cans and plastic bottles and newspapers. They get money for taking them to recycling centers.

They don't get much money, and many people would hesitate to climb around in dumpsters, poking through refuse, but these people need the cash.

Let's not judge someone else unless we've walked a mile in that person's moccasins, as the saying goes.