Published: October 01, 2008 10:51 am         

Uncle Sam suddenly needs larger hat

When the doorbell rang at my house Monday night, I walked to the front door, expecting to see a candidate or a campaign volunteer who would urge me to vote for someone.

When I opened the door to my porch, I saw instead a man in red-and-white striped pants. I thought for a moment he was wearing Indiana University basketball warm-ups until I saw his blue coat, his white goatee, his fiery eyes and that unmistakable top hat.

It was Uncle Sam. Not the Sam, I am, as in the Dr. Seuss character. This visitor had no rhymes, but he did have a reason for being on my doorstep.

“Dave,” he said as if he’d known me all my life, “I’ve come to give you something.”

“Another tax stimulus check, er, Mr. Sam?”

“No, Dave” he said with a sigh and a sad face. “It’s a bill for $3,700. It’s your share of the federal financial system bailout. You’ve probably read about it in the paper or on a Web site, or heard about it on television or the radio.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about it, but I didn’t expect a personal visit from you. I thought you only appeared on military recruiting posters they put up at post offices and recruiting stations.”

“No, I actually don’t do that much any more. After 220 years, even I get Social Security. But I wanted to talk to Americans about this bailout.”

“What about it, uh, Sam.”

“That’s fine, you can call me, Sam,” he said reassuringly. “Dave, I’ve been through wars before you were born, Vietnam when you were growing up, Watergate, the space shuttle explosion and 9/11. I’ve seen so many great things in our country, but I’ve seen some that hurt me … that hurt us as in the U.S.”

“I hope that bill is a long-term installment plan kind of thing,” I said.

“It is,” he said. “It will have to be. It’s not just you that’s going to be paying the bill. It’s your wife and those two children you have there. I’m making visits at every home on this block and in this neighborhood. In fact, I’ll be at every home in the country.”

“Kind of like Santa Claus, aren’t you?”

“But in reverse,” Sam said with another sigh.

“May I ask why you sound so depressed? I know it’s a huge amount. It looks like it will be $14,000 for my household, but aren’t we the richest nation in the world?”

“We are, Dave,” he said, “but so much of what has made us a great nation is slipping away from us. Our dollar doesn’t buy as much in Canada as it did two years ago. The Euro is worth more. China is building wealth that can buy up our debts, and we can’t pay them. If you saw the market yesterday, it lost a trillion dollars. That’s your retirement income, and that means you may have to work a year longer to afford retirement or put your children through college.”

“I hadn’t thought if that way, Sam, but if we pay this, isn’t it going to assure we won’t have a financial catstrophe?”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “It simply means we’ve averted one for now, but there’s the auto industry to think about, and there are other companies that may be on shaky ground as well. I guess my depression comes from the fact that I learned from the Depression that this nation can’t spend beyond its means, that banks can go under, that financial pressures resulting from that can put people in stressful marriages and jobs, and that their future is compromisd, all because of the burden we place on them when they pay their taxes.”

“I never knew you cared that much about this issue,” I said. “I thought you were just there to fight for us in times of war.”

“In a way, this is a war, and we’re already fighting one, which isn’t helping things out,” he said.

“What can I do as a typical American?” I asked. “More to the point, what do you want me to do?”

“This is my hat,” he said turning over the top to the bottom. “I don’t like to ask for handouts. No one does. But this is one of those times. I wouldn’t ask you, but these are difficult times. There are holes in my pockets because the money we collect every April 15 burns holes in them. Our debts have to be paid, and people have a way of wanting to be paid on time.”

I couldn’t see the bottom in his hat. Maybe it’s meant to be that way. I pulled my billfold from my back pocket and took out a $10 bill.

“Here, this will help,” I said.

“Thanks, Dave. We’ll need more, but it makes me feel better before I go down the street and speak to the people who can’t pay their mortgage, and the couple that can’t pay their medical bills. There’s another couple that lost a son in Iraq. I hate asking them the most.”

“We love you, Sam,” I said.

“I love Americans, and I love this country,” he said. “I promise not to come back here when you retire to ask for help in bailing out Social Security.”

“It’s a deal,” I said smiling.

“Don’t use that word ‘deal’ too loosely,” Sam said. “It didn’t mean much in Congress Monday.”

With that, he turned and walked away, change jangling in a hat that wasn’t big enough to hold $700 billion.

Dave Kitchell is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. He can be reached through the newspaper at ptnews@pharostribune.com