Author: Randy Seaver

Randy Seaver is a veteran journalist who has been covering news and politics in the city of Biddeford, Maine for nearly three decades. He may be contacted at randy@randyseaver.com

I believe…

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

I believe . . .

  • Decent people with good intentions seek political office. But once elected, these same people often become more focused on being re-elected than solving problems.
  • I am a registered Republican who did not vote for George W. Bush.  I am a Catholic who does not agree with every tenet of the Roman Catholic Church. I believe in a woman’s right to choose and think sex offender registries do absolutely nothing to keep our children safe.
  • I believe the Second Amendment is just as crucial to our liberty as the First Amendment. I believe homosexuals should be allowed to get married. I believe the Boy Scouts should not be forced to accept homosexual leaders.
  • I don’t believe in capital punishment, and I wonder why so many who do also claim to be “pro-life.”
  • I believe that women and men are different and that each gender has inherent strengths and weaknesses. I think God knew what He was doing when He made us that way.
  • I believe in keeping score and teaching children that it’s okay to lose a Little League game. I believe it’s good to recognize achievement and that it’s bad to lower our standards in order to achieve better self-esteem.
  • I believe in questioning authority and challenging the status-quo. I believe that absolutely no one in Augusta understands our school funding formula. I don’t believe in suing McDonald’s if you spill a cup of hot coffee on your lap.
  • I believe in proper lawn maintenance, and I don’t believe in a 40-hour work week (I believe in working hard until the job is done). I think it’s wrong that people on welfare can buy potato chips but not toilet paper.
  • I believe we all make stupid choices. I believe we all have the ability and obligation to repair the damages we cause to others.
  • I believe our mistakes are not nearly as important as our commitment to rectify those mistakes.
  • I believe we all have dreams and fears. I believe you should focus upon the former, not the latter.
  • I believe Democrats worry too much about the boardroom and Republicans worry too much about the bedroom.
  • I believe in persistence and high expectations. I believe children should do chores and smile for family portraits.
  • I believe in heaven and hell. I have seen glimpses of both.
  • I believe that all people are doing the best they can with the skills and knowledge they have acquired so far. I believe in the power of positive thinking.
  • I believe in the four food groups. I believe smoking is one of the stupidest things a person can do. I don’t believe in the Atkin’s Diet or Rogaine. I always choose “original recipe” over “extra crispy” when given the choice.
  • I don’t believe in big government or that alcoholism is a disease, despite what the American Medical Association says. I don’t believe in being politically-correct. I believe cats are smarter than dogs.
  • I believe it’s okay for parents to spank their children, and there will always be people who want to hurt the United States.
  • I believe the snowplow driver will always pass my house just as I finish clearing my driveway.
  • And finally, I believe love is a choice, one which requires tremendous sacrifice. I believe the teacher is always right and that life is generally not fair.

Janie’s Got A Gun

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

It was 12 years ago last week when two students at Columbine High School used a variety of weapons, including homemade propane bombs, a shotgun, a semi-automatic rifle and a 9mm handgun in a massacre that left 12 of their classmates and one teacher dead before both shooters committed suicide.

In the days before the attack, the two students prepared several bombs and modified their weapons. These two students were in violation of several federal laws, including the National Firearms Act and the Gun Control Act of 1968, even days before the shooting began.

The incident shook our nation, and once again the national debate over gun control consumed media outlets all over the world.

In response, the U.S. Secret Service, in conjunction with the National Education Association, undertook a study of school violence and published their report three years later, in 2002

The Secret Service Report concluded that schools were taking false hope in physical security, when they should be paying more attention to the pre-attack behaviors of students.

There’s a reason all of this sounds familiar.

Nearly eight years to the day of the Columbine tragedy, a distraught student at Virginia Tech shot and killed 32 fellow students and injured scores of others on April 16, 2007. He also committed suicide.

There was more political fallout. Other nations criticized a U.S. culture that is seemingly enthralled with guns and violence. More gun control laws were introduced and passed. It should also be noted that the university had a campus firearms ban before that massacre happened.

Sadly, I could go on and on with more examples of gun violence and the ways in which those horrific events are exploited by politicians and pundits from both sides of the gun control debate.

But what’s the point?

The point, my friends, is not about the guns. It’s about people and human behavior.

I am treading into this topic as a response to a friend’s Facebook post in which she was commenting on an editorial from the Lewiston Sun Journal regarding a bill before the Maine Legislature that would allow lawmakers to carry handguns.

“In the wake not only of Tucson, but also the shooting at NY City Hall (’03 – one Councilman shot another dead) and various examples of ‘going postal,’ this seems . . . wise?”

I have immense respect for the woman who wrote the above posting on her Facebook wall. She is extraordinarily smart and equally passionate. If I’m going to debate her, I need to bring my A game, and even then the odds are stacked against me.

But it was just two words from her pithy post that jarred me: “going postal,” just another catchy euphemism that grants us permission to brush off and dismiss a much darker topic: The cost of mental illness and our society’s unwillingness to acknowledge the ramifications of a grossly insufficient treatment system.

The genesis of the term “going postal” can be traced back to the early 1980s, when a spree of shootings by U.S. Postal workers became a macabre trend.

The term is now comic relief, as best evidenced by frequent double entendres on the Seinfield show, in which “Newman, the postal worker” was often teased for his bizarre behavior and frequent angry outbursts.

We laugh.

Some say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results. Keep laughing, if you can.

I am a big believer in the Second Amendment. I tell my friends that the Second Amendment ensures the continuation of the much more beloved First Amendment.

But I must admit that I am sometimes conflicted. After all, our society understands and accepts limitations on freedom of speech and expression. It is a violation of federal law to say, “I am going to kill the president.” It is also against the law to scream “Fire” in a crowded theater.

Former Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously quipped “ I know it when I see it,” as he struggled to define what is and what is not pornography.

Reasonable people can agree to be reasonable, right?

Sure, but what about the unreasonable people? That is a different subject altogether.

The bottom line is this: Guns represent power.

You never see news footage of refugees slinging rifles over their shoulders as they are forced to leave their homeland because of a tyrannical government, do you?

Alan Keyes, a conservative African American and a perennial presidential candidate, once quipped, “This nation would have never had a slavery problem if the people of Africa were armed.”

Any half-rate student of history can rattle off a litany of government abuses, which all began with the collection of the public’s firearms.

Guns are part of our American culture and psyche. One of my core beliefs is that power should be equally distributed and held by the people.

Thoreau seemingly agreed with my stance, when he wrote, the government that governs least governs best. Of course, he wrote Civil Disobedience in 1849, so it’s hard to know where he would come down on the post Columbine gun control debate.

I own three guns (a .22 rifle, a 12-gauge shotgun and a 20-gauge shotgun). Ironically, I don’t allow firearms in my home. My guns are stored in a gun-safe at my father-in-law’s home, some 15 miles away. They are used for hunting.

There are two reasons for not having firearms in my home.

1.) I have teenage sons who are often alone at home while Laura and I are working; and

2.) I have a responsibility to acknowledge and manage my own mental illness.

I feel safer without firearms in my home, but I am also troubled by any further encroachments on my Second Amendment rights. It doesn’t mean I think everyone should own an Uzi. Then again, reasonable people can agree to be reasonable.

But what are we going to do about the unreasonable people?

Laugh, or introduce legislation requiring background checks on the sale of propane tanks?

Why can’t we be friends?

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

“We are reckless in our use of the lovely word, friend.” –Romain Rolland

If he were alive today, I wonder what Mr. Rolland, a French journalist who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1915, would think about Facebook and its use of the word “friend.”

How many “friends” do you have?

According to the most recent stats on my Facebook page, I have 285 friends.

That’s a lot of friends . . . or is it?

“Without friends no one would choose to live, even if he had all other goods,” wrote Aristotle…but what did he know? I tried following him on Twitter, but I kept getting tweets back from Ashton Kutcher.

So, how do you define the word friend?

Personally, I have one simple criterion for the people I describe as my “friends,” and there are only four people who fit into this category, if we exclude relatives.

A friend is someone you can call at 2:34 a.m., and then ask them to drive 16 miles to post bail so that you don’t have to spend the rest of the night in the county lock-up.

With a real “friend” you can do this even when you are slightly intoxicated and can’t quite remember how you got to jail in the first place.

I have to stay out of trouble because of my four “real friends” one lives in Nashville; another lives in Eugene, Oregon. The other two both live in Maine, but one of them has young children; and the other is a very sound sleeper.

But considering the onslaught of social media networking and its impact on my professional life, my definition of the word friend seems quaint, if not entirely useless in the digital age that brought us both Farmville and the word “un-friend” simultaneously.

If you think social media is just a fad or something that can be ignored by those of us who have moved beyond repeated bouts of acne and anxiety about our SAT scores, think again. In fact, check this link.

Like it or not, social media platforms such as Facebook, Twitter and YouTube have become an essential part of our modern communication infrastructure. Every presidential campaign in 2012 will use all three of these platforms. Nearly every bank in Maine has a Facebook page and you can even let the whole world know what brand of whipped cream you prefer by clicking “Like” on the Cool Whip page.

I don’t mind Facebook, but it can become a time vacuum and very labor intensive if you are managing a page or multiple pages as part of an integrated communications strategy.

It’s just the casual use of the word friend that I find offensive.

Furthermore, it seems that some people are a bit less discriminating when it comes to choosing their friends.

As an experiment, I created a fictitious Facebook account. My alter ego was a woman in her mid 30s and she set about finding “friends.” It took less than 48 hours for this non-existent person to rack up more than 75 friends, including two U.S. senators, four television news reporters, three newspaper reporters and seven state legislators.

More disturbing: A recent poll showed that more than 80 percent of people in Maine still receive their news across traditional platforms, such as newspapers, television shows and radio broadcasts. But the media and the small number of policy leaders who chart local, state and national policy are all sharing Tweets and checking their Facebook pages on a regular basis. They are “in the loop,” while the other 80 percent of residents are not.

Thus, you’re nobody until somebody “Likes” you.

But what is the value of more than four or five friends?

Could you really handle having several hundred friends?

Seriously. Think about it. You would spend the rest of your days attending funerals, weddings and anniversary parties. Your Christmas shopping list would need to be underwritten by Goldman-Sachs. You would never get a good night’s sleep nor have a moment when you could just relax.

Unfortunately, the number of friends on a Facebook page has become a quantitative measure of modern-day success; a metrics of accountability and an insatiable need to be more connected while isolated in front of a computer screen.

Check your friends list. How many of them would take a call from you at 2:30 a.m.? If your answer exceeds the number 2, congratulations. You are luckier than you can imagine.

The rest is just an illusion. . .sort of like Farmville.

Pocketful of Kryptonite

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

Although it was 30 years ago this week, I still remember the day like it was yesterday.

I came home from high school and flipped on the television. The news was on, and that was strange because this was long before the days of CNN, MSNBC or Fox News. Back then, there was no such thing as the internet.

So why was the news on during the afternoon?

The president had been shot.

Only a few months earlier, John Lennon was gunned down in front of his New York City apartment building. We didn’t know it then, but in a few more weeks there would be an assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II.

Violence was everywhere, it seemed.

Welcome to 1981. I am a junior at Rumford High School. My orthodontic braces had just been removed, and I am living with my uncle and aunt in West Peru, Maine while my parents continue a bitter divorce process.

I am going back there tomorrow. I am going back to my old high school, where I painted a mural on the wall of my English teacher’s classroom.

I am also reminded that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” said 19th Century philosopher George Santayana

When Ronald Reagan was president, U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords was 11 years old, John Lennon was buried, and I was struggling with acne.

John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, Gabrielle Giffords, Pope John Paul II.

And Maine Governor Paul LePage.

Wait! What? Paul LePage?

No, LePage was not shot, but he did receive a death threat from Michael Thomas, a Portland man who allegedly vowed to assassinate him and reportedly suffers from a history of mental instability.

John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, Gabby Giffords, Pope John Paul II and Paul Lepage. Now there’s an interesting group of people, all of whom stir some sort of reaction.

But what about this next group of individuals?

Mark Chapman, John Hinckley, Jared Loughner, Mehmet Ali Ağca and Michael Thomas. They all have at least two things in common.

One: They are all currently in jail.

While some folks may use these tragedies to demand tougher gun laws, or to discuss political motivations, the other common thread shared by our second group of men is almost always sensationalized by both the media and general public .

Each of these men has a mental illness.

(Sidebar: There are several theories, including a Tom Clancy novel, about Ağca, the man who attempted to assassinate the Pope,and his political motivations and reported connections to the KGB, but there is little doubt that he is mentally unstable, especially if you begin perusing transcripts of interviews with him after the shooting in Vatican Square.)

We like to ignore mental illness. It is an uncomfortable topic, but not one that should be dismissed. Otherwise, as demonstrated above, the consequences can be fatal.

These high-profile crimes and the men behind them add to the burden of mental health advocates who fight daily against the stigma associated with mental illness.

In fact, violent acts committed by people with serious mental illness comprise an exceptionally small proportion of the overall violent crime rate in the U.S. They are more likely to be the victims of violence, not its perpetrators, according to the National Association of Social Workers (NASW)

In its March 2011 article, “Budgets Balanced at Expense of Mentally Ill,” the NASW newsletter also mentions a new report by the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration that documents a nationwide decline in behavioral health care spending as a share of all health care spending, from 9.3 percent in 1986 to just 7.3 percent, or $135 billion out of $1.85 trillion, in 2005.

Moreover, high-profile incidents such as John Hinckley’s attempted assassination of President Reagan also give apparent permission for the media to stereotype and hype mental illness as one that will likely produce violent crime.

In the days following the 2007 massacre at Virginia Tech, “Nightly newscasts reported “no known motive” and focused on the gunman’s anger, sense of isolation, and preoccupation with violent revenge. No one who read or saw the coverage would learn what a psychotic break looks like, nor that the vast majority of people with mental disorders are not violent. This kind of contextual information is conspicuously missing from major newspapers and TV,” wrote Richard Friedman in “Media and Madness,” an article published in the June 23, 2008 issue of The American Prospect.

Friedman goes on to explain that “Hollywood has benefited from a long-standing and lurid fascination with psychiatric illness,” referencing movies such as Psycho, The Silence of the Lambs, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Fatal Attraction.

According to Friedman, “exaggerated characters like these may help make “average” people feel safer by displacing the threat of violence to a well-defined group.”

As a former journalist and a current communications consultant, I am naturally drawn to issues surrounding journalism and those who are employed by the so-called Fourth Estate.

And as someone who has been battling mental illness all my life, I know a thing or two about the effects of stigma.

And that’s why I’m going back to my old high school. I will be the keynote speaker at a symposium on mental health stigma.

The Carter Center does a succinct job of defining the problems associated with stigma:

“In ancient times the word stigma was defined as ‘A mark burned into the skin of a criminal or slave, a brand.’ This inhumane treatment was metered out to criminals and anyone felt to be a threat to society. Have we really come so far today? Just mention depression or worse Bipolar to most employers, family or friends and the reaction’s generally a negative one.”

Superman and Lois Clark

Maybe you remember the 1978 movie Superman.

The movie may have been cheesy, but the cast was stunning. Some of Hollywood’s most enduring and iconic figures were featured in that film, including Marlon Brando, Gene Hackman, Ned Beatty, Valerie Perrine and Margot Kidder.

The film also launched the career of Christopher Reeve, a handsome, muscular man who was cast in the leading role as the Man of Steel.

While participating in a 1995 equestrian competition in Virginia, Reeve was severely injured and became paralyzed. His injuries elicited support from all over the globe. He spent the rest of his brief life trying to help others with spinal cord injuries and established the Christopher Reeve Foundation.

He was a sympathetic hero. He touched us all. The man of steel could not escape this batch of Kryptonite. He died in October 2004 and millions mourned his passing.

Now, let us examine the fate of Superman’s leading lady, Margot Kidder, a successful actress who was cast as the petulant, cynical and manic reporter, Lois Clark.

A year after Reeve was paralyzed, Kidder was found by police hiding in the bushes in a suburban neighborhood near Los Angeles, California. She was taken into custody for a psychiatric evaluation.

The world was not so nice to Ms. Kidder.

Kidder has a bipolar disorder, so she became fair game for the media, late night comedians and a slew of derisive web site commentary. She was certainly no Superman.

She was human, frail and vulnerable but in a different way than her co-star, and that difference was best amplified by the ridicule that continues to follow her today, some 15 years after her illness became fodder for her former Hollywood colleagues.

Maybe that’s why fellow Superman star Marlon Brando spent so many years keeping his mental illness a secret.

By the time Superman was released in 1978, Brando was already known as one of Hollywood’s most iconic figures. The star of “On the Waterfront” and “The Godfather,” he was a tough guy’s tough guy.

But his mental illness apparently was a bit tougher.

Brando was a deeply troubled man struggling with depression, anger, and loneliness, according to those who knew him and detailed in an article by the National Center on Physical Activity and Disability.

Brando was from a generation of those who didn’t talk about mental illness. A generation that believed depression was little more than self-pity run amok or some other sort of character flaw.

It was that same generation of actors which produced the original Superman, George Reeves.

George Reeves (no relation to Christopher) was an actor best known for his leading role in the 1950s television series, The Adventures of Superman.

Reeves’ untimely death at age 45 was officially ruled as a suicide by police, although there is much speculation about that fact, most notably in the 2006 film Hollywoodland, which stars Ben Affleck as George Reeves.

Whether Reeves committed suicide is irrelevant and will probably remain a mystery for a long time to come.

But we do know how Hollywood would have treated him if he had talked publicly about battling depression.

Just ask Lois Lane.

The needle and the damage done

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

It is paper-thin and measures only 8 by 3-1/2 inches, but it scares the hell out of me.

It has been sitting on the dashboard of my truck for several days, just there. Always visible. Always reminding me of what I cannot escape.

It is a placard that allows parking in disabled parking spaces. You know the one. The little, gender-neutral stick figure that sits in a wheelchair against a crimson-blue backdrop.

I have been struggling with writing this post for the last several days because I am terrified of both its content and the potential reaction from those who read it.

The reason I have the placard is because Laura was diagnosed with MS in December 2008. Since then, she has experienced fluctuating levels of mobility; and I do my best to ignore it. To brush it off. To think it will eventually go away.

Some days are better than others.

That’s how it goes with MS, people tell me. I try to pretend that Laura is just tired or maybe a bit depressed. Maybe if I work just a bit harder, just a bit more, it will go away. That is a child’s thinking. That has been my thinking.

Make no mistake, Laura is lucky. Her MS is fairly manageable. She is able to go to work each day and leads a more than productive life.

But still, I wonder. Me, the eternal pessimist. This disease is slowly, but deliberately, taking away a little piece of my wife each day, no matter how much I try to deny or ignore it.

I still remember the day she was diagnosed. It was just a few days after Christmas. Laura had been experiencing a strange numbing sensation on her face. She made an appointment with her doctor. He recommended that she see a neurologist. At the time, we both thought it was no big deal.

I was home and knee-deep in ethernet cables, when Laura called me on the way back from the doctor’s office.

I didn’t take her. My mother-in-law drove her to and from the appointment. I regret that decision to stay home with the kids and work on hooking up their computer to the internet. But I don’t regret that decision nearly as much as I regret the things I said to her when she finally got me on the phone.

“Hey,” she said in a soft-spoken tone that belied the news that should have followed. She wanted to tell me in person, face-to-face.

“What,” I shot back, only half paying attention, much more focused on the twisted mass of blue wires wrapped around my feet.

“I was wondering if you could start a pot of coffee,” she asked.

I was livid. I had already done three loads of laundry, paid the bills and vacuumed the living room. The computer wiring was near the end of my “to-do” list and the thought of one more thing sent me over the edge. Idiot, that I am.

“You want coffee? Make it yourself,” I barked. “Do you know what kind of day I’ve had? Pick up a cup from Dunkin’ Donuts or whatever, but just leave me alone.”

Silence.

“What’s your problem?” I continued. “You’ve been out shopping with your mother, and you want me to make the fucking coffee? Could you be any more lazy?”

“Sorry, ” she said. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll take care of it myself.” And the phone went silent.

She arrived home maybe 20 minutes later. I was still up to my knees in tangled cords. She brought me a cup of coffee and asked if we could talk.

I was still exasperated. “What?”

“They diagnosed me with MS,” she said, trying very hard to hold back the tears.

I let go of those silly cords. We sat down at the dining room table and began our latest adventure.

If you think I was a prick then, I can assure you that I haven’t done much better since.

I avoid conversations about MS. I avoid the annual MS Walk. I don’t want to think about it. I want it to go away.

Every other night is “shot night” at our home. Every other night, Laura injects herself with Betaseron to keep the illness at bay. Every other night, I turn away and find something else to occupy my thinking.

I love my wife. Honestly, I do. And I know she needs my support. Again, some days are better than others.

So today, marks the first day that I used the placard. We took Laura’s mother to Wal-Mart. We parked in one of the disabled spaces. Betty was moving through the store like a speed demon, anxiously making her way toward what would hopefully be her new television. She is 66 years old and she left me in the dust.

Instinctively, I paused, and turned back to check on my wife. I could tell that Laura’s energy level was dropping quickly. “Are you okay,” I asked.

“Yeah, she nodded. “I’m fine.”

I knew it was a lie, and once again…I played along.

Testimony in support of LD 364

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

A copy of the testimony I presented to the Maine Legislature’s Joint Standing Committee on Insurance and Financial Services on March 2, 2011

Re: LD 364, Resolve, Directing Updated Review and Evaluation of Maine’s Mental Health Parity Law

 Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the committee. Thank you for the opportunity to speak to you today about the importance and my support of LD 364.

My name is Randy Seaver, and I am here.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if that statement seems vague, please allow me to explain. From my perspective, it is nothing short of a miracle that I am able to stand before you today and testify about the critical importance of maintaining Maine’s mental health parity legislation.

What do you see when you look at me? Perhaps you see a father, a husband or a communications consultant? Maybe you know me from some of the other state policy work I have been involved with over the last several years. Perhaps you know me as a veteran; or as a former journalist and newspaper editor.

In fact, I am all of those things. But what you may not know is that I am also someone with a mental illness who requires daily medication and ongoing treatment. I am not unique. I am not an anomaly. In fact, I am just like the thousands of other Maine people who suffer from some sort of mental illness.

If you think my numbers are high, please consider that the Centers for Disease Control estimates that 1 of every five Americans suffers from some form of mental illness. Based on the latest Census figures regarding Maine’s population, the math will tell you that there are more than 200,000 people just like me in Maine.

We are your neighbors, your friends, your co-workers and colleagues.

Mental illness is no different in its implications than any other form of disease, such as Diabetes or epilepsy. Would you think of me any differently if I stood before you to talk about insurance coverage for diabetics?

My illness, as long as it is treated properly, is virtually impossible to detect. When addressed through medication and regular clinician visits, my illness does not prevent me from doing things that so many us take for granted: holding a job, maintaining a marriage, volunteering in the community and yes, even paying taxes that support our communities.

But there is another side of that coin because I know all too well the costs associated without access to treatment and medications. Between 1982 and 1998, I was in and out of various hospital settings and unable to hold a job or maintain a relationship.

In fact, if you were to eat just one whoopee pie for every time I was hospitalized during that 16-year time frame, you would die of hypoglycaemic shock before you were halfway there.

When Jared Loughner committed his horrific acts of violence in Tucson, I knew that I had a responsibility to speak up publicly about both the stigma associated with mental illness and the need to ensure that people have fair access to treatments and medications.

You see, Jared Loughner and I are not that much different. The only real difference is that I was able to receive treatment and medication, and that I take responsibility for managing my illness.

Those two things are important, and they are the only reasons why I am here today, and not in prison, a hospital ward or a morgue.

But without access to treatment, how am I able to take responsibility for managing my illness? If I pay the same insurance premium as my neighbor, why should an insurance company view my illness any differently?

Access to medication and ongoing treatment allows me to be a productive member of my community. Without that access, it is likely that I will end up in a hospital. If I’m not working, I’m unable to support myself. I am not paying income taxes or contributing to the economy as a consumer of goods and services. Wouldn’t you agree that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?

Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Randy Seaver, and I am here!

I am here to plead with you to maintain and support Maine’s mental health parity law.

Tucson shootings and the costs of stigma

~ Randy Seaver ~ 2 Comments

(originally published in the January 11, 2011 Portland Press Herald)

The horrific event that transpired in Tucson on Saturday has inspired more than ample discussion regarding the tone and spirit of our nation’s political discourse.

Despite all the fervent commentary, there is one piece of this puzzle that remains largely glossed over, however.

And this is where it gets a bit personal.

When I was 22, I was living in Tucson and attending college part-time. Just like Jared Loughner, I was removed from school for many of the same reasons.

But I got lucky. I ended up at the Southern Arizona Mental Health Center (SAMHC) and spent the next several weeks there as an inpatient client.

I did not have insurance. I did not have any assets or even a job. My family was in Maine, thousands of miles away. So, my ability to receive life-saving treatment and long-term support services was funded primarily on the backs of Arizona taxpayers.

Nearly a quarter century later, I like to think that investment has, so far, paid significant dividends. But I can assure you, it was a long-term and risky investment.

Make no mistake. Mr. Loughner committed horrific, criminal acts that warrant the full weight of justice. But if society expects and demands justice, we must also recognize that there is a very deep and painful cost associated with scaling down or the elimination of community-based mental health services and treatment options.

According to its web site, SAMHC was officially established in 1962 as a state-owned and operated outpatient mental health facility under the aegis of the Arizona State Hospital.  The campus-style facility, then located at the intersection of Campbell Avenue and 6th Street, was purchased through legislative appropriation.

Nearly 50 years after its founding, SAMHC continues to provide crisis behavioral health services to the entire community, regardless of ability to pay, insurance status or age.

As of this writing, it is unclear whether Loughner attempted to access those services or if he or members of his family made any attempt to deal with his now-obvious illness.

What is clearly known, however, is the commentary our society freely tosses around when describing mental illness.

Unfortunately, the terms “sicko” “whack-job” and “nut case” are apparently acceptable on social media outlets, reader comment pages and even in the so-called mainstream media.

Yet, we wonder with righteous indignation why those affected by mental illness are reluctant to seek services or get help before their illness manifests itself into a deadly outcome.

If I were dealing with testicular cancer, I could expect to be described as a “hero” or as a “survivor.”  I am praised for my courage to acknowledge my illness and for my willingness to fight it tooth and nail with all available resources.

Heck, you might even put a bumper sticker on your car, wear a pink bracelet or post something supportive on your Facebook page.

But what if I tell you I have a diagnosed mental illness; an illness that affects me every day; an insidious, almost-invisible illness for which there is no cure?

I get some nervous head nods or even some encouragement in the form of: “pull yourself up by your bootstraps, try positive thinking, you should appreciate things more.”

Well-intentioned, perhaps, but the stigma and its costs are clear.

Though we have made much progress, I can assure you that we have a long, long way to go.

Only because I was able to access services and am willing to deal every day with my disease am I able to do things now that I once thought impossible: hold a job, enjoy a wonderful marriage, own a home and even hold a driver’s license.

So, some may choose to focus on the debate regarding our nation’s political rhetoric.

But whether we’re talking about John Hinckley, Mark Chapman or the more recent example of Jared Loughner, one thing we should all be able to recognize is that mental illness can be a fatal illness – and if left untreated, its costs are overwhelming.

According to the Centers for Disease Control, one of every five Americans suffers from some form of mental illness.

I hope you agree with me that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

An Inconvenient Truth

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

Originally posted June 2009:

The tide has turned on our economy.

Millions of Americans are out of work.  The real estate market is in the toilet and consumer confidence is at an all-time low.

Our nation’s current economic picture is very similar to what was  happening in 1930s Germany, a country that was especially hit hard by the Depression that also rocked America in 1929.

The time is ripe to rise up  against the corporations. You know those legalized collections of people who
like to make a profit. It seems profit is a bad thing now.

In the midst of all this economic crisis, our country is focused upon “reforming” our nation’s health care system.

Many people, it seems, are fed up with the greedy insurance companies that would rather focus on profits than healing the  sick. But just beyond the sound bites and the rhetoric there are some  inconvenient truths.

Take, for example, the following nuggets of  information that you will not hear from the folks at Change For America or Michael Moore, a man who is making a pretty penny on his latest movie, which did not
use union workers.

According to a PricewaterhouseCoopers’ study, in 2007 health plans had an average profit margin of 3% (THREE  PERCENT)

According to a study by RAND Health for the California  HealthCare Foundation “…medical costs explain nearly 89 percent of [health plan]  revenue increases.”

According to Kaiser Health News (not exactly a bastion of conservative thought), “the major causes of health care’s escalating  costs are the rising prices and the increased use of medical services, including hospital stays, prescription drugs, new technologies and doctor  visits.”

According to CMS data, over 40 years, the real costs of private health insurance have grown at an annual rate of 5.2 percent. Benefits, as  measured by the cost of health care services to members, have grown at real rate  of 5.3 percent over the same time period. Administrative costs have grown more slowly, at a real rate of about 4.9 percent since 1966.

According to Kaiser Health News, “With the nation’s health care spending estimated at $2.5  trillion this year, even the elimination of insurers’ profits and executive  compensation would lower health care spending by just 0.5 percent.”

In 2006, health plan profits of the top 10 for profit health plans accounted for 0.5%of total health care spending; in 2007, 0.6%; and, in 2008, 0.5%.

Well, there you go.

There’s no question that our current system  needs reform and that working Americans should have access to adequate and safe  health care, but Congress ought to focus on solving the problem.

Don’t hold your breath. It will never happen because it requires leadership, not class warfare rhetoric.

Uncle Bert

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

Originally posted on Dec. 22, 2005 on All Along The Watchtower.

Last week, I thought today would be little more than a day of drinking and celebrating with my co-workers and those I developed relationships with during the last seven years as the Courier’s editor.

But God had different plans.

So, instead I will be going to a funeral.

Uncle Bert is an “in-law” relative. And since Laura and I have been together just a little more than four years, it’s not like I can say we were particularly close. And even Laura, I think, is grieving the uncle she knew from her childhood more than the Uncle Bert who decided to end his sorrow and grief a bit sooner than the rest of us expected.

But his suicide, like all suicides, has left me troubled.

Roughly a year ago today, Uncle Bert smoked a cigarette with me outside my new home. He was always very nice to me. Sure, all of Laura’s relatives were nice to me (some more than others), but Uncle Bert seemed comfortable talking with me; and he wasn’t what you would call a big talker.

He had a thick Downeast accent, gray hair, a wiry frame and a warm smile. We talked about my driveway, which really needs to be repaved. He spent several years as the owner of a paving company, and told me that my driveway was actually in pretty decent shape.

“You have a nice home, Randy,” he told me. “You’re doing a good job with those boys.”

There’s no way to explain how much that comment meant to me. He reminded me of my own late Uncle Leonard, a man who raised me during my teenage years when my mother was overwhelmed and my father was focused on indulging his every biological whim.

I always felt for Uncle Bert; he struck me as lonely, and there was no denying the fact that he never quite accepted the loss of his wife, the woman Laura knew as Aunt Cathy.

Laura and I were both raised as Catholics. And yesterday (or maybe the day before), she asked me if I thought Uncle Bert would go to heaven.

Yes, I told my wife as she brushed away a tear. “The God I believe in would not turn Uncle Bert away. Uncle Bert was a kind, decent and honest man. If he doesn’t go to heaven, then it’s no place I want to be.”

The Church tenets were designed to keep people alive. Although its doctrines are fear-based, the intent, I think, was more practical and based in necessity.

God, I believe, is sad that Uncle Bert is no longer with us. But I believe in a loving and forgiving God, a God who understands and accepts our human follies. Would you turn away your child if he or she made a mistake?

Laura and her cousins have much closer realtionships than I ever had with any of my cousins. They get together frequently every year. So I know Peggy and Liz (two of Bert’s four children) as well as any of my in-laws.

Peggy and Liz are amazing women with families of their own. Their father’s better traits are certainly apparent in the way they raise their own children.

I just hope Uncle Bert knows what a special gift he gave me by openly expressing a vote of confidence in my struggles to be a stepfather.

As someone who spent the better part of a decade struggling with severe depression and at least two serious suicide attempts, I was shaken to learn that Uncle Bert went through with his shuffling of life’s mortal coil.

I just hope God knows what He is doing, and I hope we all learn from the lessons that are so readily available in every day living.

Uncle Bert is gone and will not be here for this Christmas or any other, but I choose to remember that sly grin and gentle demeanor. And I know that all the streets in heaven will be well-paved, at least in the smoking section.

Roland, the headless gunner

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

As we inch closer to the 2004 elections, we all seem to be getting either more stupid or lazy. Maybe both.

While we listen to the presidential candidates debate how they spent their summer vacations during the Vietnam War, a number of key issues seem to have fallen by the wayside. At the same time, it seems that the media and the American electorate could not care less.

Take, for example, a front-page story in the Sept. 10 Portland Press Herald regarding Bushmaster, Inc., a Windham-based gun manufacturer. According to the story by David Hench, the company has agreed to exhaust its insurance benefits in order to console the victims of the Washington D.C. snipers.

How can we read a story like this and not be outraged? Yet again, the liberal mentality is taking the path of least resistance and faulting the gun manufacturer as a way to appease concern about acts of senseless violence.

Somehow, we believe that getting rid of the guns will reduce crime. It’s akin to believing that Prohibition would save American families, reduce crime and prevent rampant alcoholism. Gun control appears to be the easiest, safest and least costly approach to solving an otherwise complex problem.

And when that doesn’t work, blame the corporations. Riddle me this: What consolation is $550,000 going to bring to anyone who lost a family member?

Although the folks at Bushmaster apparently believe they are not at fault for the snipers’ use of the company’s weapons, the lawyers believe that settling will be a lot less expensive than a trial. And so it goes once again; a company that reportedly employs 100 people will be held responsible for the idiotic lunacy of two criminals.

I don’t know about you. But I’m not going to sleep any better tonight.

This, dear readers, is just another example of our society’s constant push to assign blame rather than hold individuals accountable for their own actions. Under this logic, Mary Jo Kopechne’s family should sue General Motors, not the Kennedy family for their daughter’s tragic death In Oldsmobile Delta 88 under the Chappaquiddick Bridge.

People kill people, not guns or cars.

And for all my liberal buddies out there, my favorite bumper-sticker is still: “Ted Kennedy’s car has killed more people than my handgun.”

Handgun legislation did nothing to prevent the violent death of Nicole Brown or Ronald Goldman, either. Gun registration laws also did nothing to prevent a South Portland man from being beaten to death with a baseball bat four years ago.

I always find it ironic when my liberal colleagues blather on about the First Amendment but then speak with such disdain about the next item in the Bill of Rights as if it were nothing more than protection for duck hunters.

Our nation’s forefathers knew all too well what could happen to an unarmed citizenry. Despite the constant lessons of history, (from Kosovo to Cuba and from Pre-WWII Germany to South Africa) liberals still believe that “regular citizens” have no need for owning weapons.

But when was the last time you saw a refugee crossing the border of his former homeland, carrying a rifle across his shoulder? It doesn’t happen. What would have happened if the Africans could have shot back at their American oppressors?

I don’t own a gun now, but I did. And to think that the government believes it should have a list of anyone who owns a handgun should be chilling enough. But even if getting rid of all the guns gives you the soft and fuzzies, should we really hold the manufacturers responsible for the actions of criminals? I think not.

A while back, a man in California killed several pedestrians when he drove into a crowded public market. Where’s the consolation for those families? Where are the lawyers, drooling over the chance to sue the Ford Motor Company? It’s just that we hate guns — unless, of course, we find ourselves on the wrong end of a violent crime. When that happens, having a gun would be mighty handy.

My kids know that they will always be held accountable for their actions. And only by teaching them about discipline and personal responsibility can they ever hope to be truly free men in a world that is increasingly looking for someone else to blame.