why employers should not provide health insurance

canon digital rebel xsi

I know this isn't something I talk about often. I did, however, spend a number of years working for a large health insurance provider.

A few weeks ago, I listened to This American Life's 2-part series on health insurance reform. One of the most important questions it asked was why we should let our employers be in charge of our health insurance. The simple truth is, we shouldn't. Here are just a few reasons:

• The reality is that people who sick, cannot work. So if you get sick, and can't work, and lose your job, guess what else you lose? That's right, your health insurance. And please don't say COBRA. Anyone who has ever had to rely on COBRA knows that it is only a good idea in theory. Here is a NYT's Op-Ed piece on just this issue.


• Health care providers may have commercials in which they talk about the patient as being their customer, but the reality is if you have group health insurance from your employer - they are the customer - not you. Don't believe me. Ask what happens if your employer doesn't make a payment to your health insurance company. If you were to call your health insurance company, they wouldn't even tell you that your employer didn't pay, even if it was the reason they denied your claim.


• Employers usually decide which health care plan to provide employees based on what is most cost effective for the employer. So if your needs differ, you are either paying for something inadequate, or paying for something you don't need.


• Why have your health care (or of those in your family) tied to your job? There are many people out there right now who can't leave jobs they hate (or aren't serving them) for fear of losing health insurance. Conversely, why put your job at risk because you are forced to discuss a health issue of your or your family with your employer?

You can listen to This American Life's Episode 391: Less is More and Episode 392: Someone Else's Money for free at those links. I highly recommend you do. Then ask what real health care reform means.


on the night stand :: Trouble by Kate Christensen.

the day of the dead

Today is Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos. It is celebrated in Mexico, and other Spanish speaking countries. It is not a day or mourning, but rather a day of celebration. Alters are made and favorite foods are put out to invite the dead to join in the party. Some people visit the cemetery and have picnics at the graves of their family. I have heard of it, known friends who honor this day, although never celebrated it personally.

I was reminded about it again, while listening to this piece on NPR, call Witnessing the Election for Those Who Can't. At the end the reporter asked who you would spend the day with (of your dead family or friends), and what would you talk about. A good question, but a tough one.

A few nights back I had a dream. There were many parts to it, some a bit bizarre, most I don't remember, but it ended in a most beautiful way. I was with my Mom and we were literally among the stars. There weren't words for how beautiful it was or how peaceful.

The truth is I have never been to my Mother's grave. Well, that is not entirely true. My Mother is buried with her mother, and I have memories of visiting her grave growing up. When we did visit, I remember my Mom saying that she didn't believe in leaving flowers. She found it a way of dealing with guilt. She once took a photograph of her mother's grave with flowers on it (likely left by one of her siblings or father), and called it "Guilt".

I have been told that my sister is also buried in the same plot. I know that my grandfather, and his second wife are buried there. I imagine all of them together for eternity. My grandmother, mother and sister all have the same name. My sister named for our grandmother who died before she was born; my mother for her grandmother, who reportedly also died before her birth; and so on. This supposedly goes back seven generations. I don't know for sure. I imagine that would be an interesting group to hang with forever. While my Mom adored her mother, she had mixed feelings about her father. She disowned my sister when she was 15, and they were in the process of reconciling, when my Mom died. My sister died a few years later. And then of course there is my Aunt Hazel, aka my grandfather's second wife. Can't imagine how that would work out in the afterlife.

I suppose if I had to narrow it down, I would want to spend the day with my Mom. I'd bring hot dogs and cheesecake. I am not sure exactly what we would talk about, but I doubt politics would be the key focus. I'd just want to be with my Mom and experience that mother/daughter bond again.



on the night stand :: Free to Be You and Me - 35th anniversary edition

this i believe

I admit that I am an NPR Junkie. The radio is usually on in the background, tuned in. Even at night, I somehow feeling safer hearing the BBC News reporting the latest. One of the shows that moves me most though, is This I Believe.

This week there was an essay from Brighton Earley. It is on the importance of flexibility to survive the sometimes difficult things that life dishes us.

Brighton's story certainly brought up issues for me. I certainly could relate. I was in a somewhat similar situation when I was her age. I was attending Catholic school in LA while being raised by my mother. Of course in my last two years of high school I felt like someone had waved a magic wand and turned me into a princess.

I had my own room with a private bath in a brand new condo on the West Side. My mother drove a brand new BMW. We had beautiful new furniture. I had a stock pile of pretty clothes. To the outside world, it looked like life was good. But there is always more to the story.

I have always struggled with unworthiness. It is hard not to when you believe that you never should have been, and that your existence caused so much pain.

On some level I must have realized it, but my room was the only room in the house with furniture from our previous apartment. I still remember confronting the dean of discipline (and my future history teacher) when I didn't have the proper uniform shirt. It was on order. At my last school we wore powder blue shirts. At my new school it was white, but I didn't have a plain white button-down shirt in my wardrobe. The best I could come up with was an ivory silk shirt I found in my mother's closet. I still remember saying to him that just because my mother had bought a new home, everyone thinks she has money. I explained that this wasn't true.

What was true, and what I didn't say is that my mother had let me have it. After I had been accepted to the school over the summer my mother was informed that she was three months behind in the tuition (she selected the monthly installment plan). Then there was the crazy overpriced uniform company. According to the school list I needed to purchase a blazer. This meant I only got one skirt and a sweater. And the two shirts I had ordered were out of stock, but paid in full. And of course there were my books and other supplies. My mother made it clear that she was spent. I feared asking her for anything.

During my tenure at the school, she would 'forget' to pay my tuition on more than one occasion. Of course instead of confronting the parent, the school reminded the students. I was actually prevented from taking one of my last final exams and spent the class period in the bathroom crying. I remember her telling me that I could have just asked instead of being such a drama queen about it.

Of course money was one of the least of my problems. There were secrets. Deep, dark secrets. Things I feared my classmates learning about. That was such a crazy time. But I survived. I have great hope that Brighton will as well.



on the night stand :: A Picture is Worth 1000 Words

covered in oil

Maybe you have thought about it, but I suspect not. Did you know that the average distance an item on your plate travels is 1500 miles. I have heard that statistic before, but this morning while I was not quite awake, I also heard this tidbit:

Trimmings from grain-fed American beef are too fatty to meet federal health regulations for hamburgers....Instead of putting American cows on a diet, we ship frozen beef more than 12,000 miles by sea (from Australia and New Zealand) in refrigerated boxes.

Here is link to the entire program (both audio and transcript). This is part of a week long series called "Consumed".

If you think about that (and the energy consumed) too long, your head may start to spin. And yes, this is the beef that ends up in Big Macs and Whoppers. But even if like me, you haven't stepped foot (or driven through) one of these places for decades, a quick inspection of your fridge, freezer and pantry probably reveals some startling statistics.

While we were all busy reading the labels, checking for trans fat and salt content, we should have also been looking at where it came from. Sure there are certain foods like coffee, chocolate, and most spices, that can only grow in specific regions, but what about things that don't?

I know that Trader Joe's recently announced that they were no longer selling products made in China. This was more in response to scares about lead in toys than how far food was traveling though.

One of the things that I liked about Central Market (in Texas) was that all the produce had signs clearly marking where it came from. I know they are not the only store to do this, but they were among the first where it stood out. I probably also noticed it more because you have to weigh your produce so need to enter the code on the scale, which was also noted on the same sign.

I don't have the answers. I am not sure anyone does. Being aware is certainly a start. Learning more certainly couldn't hurt.


on the night stand :: The Abstinence Teacher