Jordan McClements is a writer from Dover, who teaches English composition at his alma mater, Delaware State University.
Let’s help Delawareans we’ve never met plant trees we will never see.
This is hard to do when all the major decisions about the overdose crisis in Delaware are made by the Prescription Opioid Settlement Distribution Commission, which holds its meetings in New Castle.
Why does the commission only hold its meetings in New Castle?
All the money and decisions that are wasted on disappointing nonprofits that can stop our overdose crisis in Delaware (a crisis that disproportionately kills families in every county) is controlled, and wasted, by exclusively holding these meetings in New Castle County.
The answer? The same players want to maintain their power balance. The POSDC is not concerned with the overdose crisis. The change it claims to be making is horrendous to us, my Delaware family, loved ones and neighbors. Its 36% decrease is meaningless. We’re failing 64% of Delawareans who overdose. The state is waiting on Philadelphia to understand xylazine. How do I know? That was the state’s answer when I asked at an annual public relations stunt.
We are losing members of our community every day, and you talk at us, with numbers?
Say the name, Craig Richards, the man who died by the Duncan Center in Dover. Craig Richards’ shoes were stolen from him after he died because someone needed a pair. Say his name: Craig Richards. Our lack of empathy, not talking to ourselves, not engaging with our community and zoning laws led to Craig Richards’ death. Who cares about zoning laws, Delaware? Politicians care about zoning because it controls taxing residents and silencing them. What’s the incentive to help people who are unsheltered/addicted? We all have potential, and potential equals wealth. If you want wealth for yourself and others, invest in people.
We need numbers in politics. Your cop-out is not your power. Our power is our voices and actions together, Delaware. We must be objective and look at things in a new way to get beyond this dark time. We are given an opportunity to get things right. Recurring politicians are in our way. It’s time to raise more forward thinkers, and it begins with us, Delaware.
Get involved in the conversation by having and creating your own, and by joining this one. Politicians don’t want you to show up in private or public dialogue. We must talk together before we march together. Who’s willing to get involved? Say his name: Craig Richards. When? Say his name: Craig Richards. Where? Say his name: Craig Richards.
The time is now. Say his name: Craig Richards. Are you going to show up? Say his name: Craig Richards. Politicians don’t care about our legacy. When are we going to take care of our legacy? Say his name: Craig Richards. It starts with educating our politicians and decreasing term limits. Say his name: Craig Richards. Let’s stop complaining and start handling our responsibility to our community. Say his name: Craig Richards.
Delaware’s numbers:
Let’s look at the purpose of the state’s numbers. Three types of grants are available: microgrants (up to $10,000) for rapid-response projects; minigrants ($10,000-$30,000) for more structured projects; and general grants ($30,000 and up) for larger, long-term programs.
Delaware is working against itself. The same players are playing the same game for the same new money from the opioid settlement. Notice how all these grants do not go directly to the overdose crisis and those living on the front lines. The funded groups are like all nonprofits in Delaware in relation to the overdose crisis — they get paid whether we overdose or not.
These grants are a waste.
Delaware is not willing to try innovative solutions in a “rapid response” or any response, as our overdose crisis has shown, and continually shows, this year. They won’t do anything to help people with the opioid settlement funds. Don’t let the state confuse you. The overdose crisis isn’t something to cheer about. We’re surviving it by holding the state accountable.
Now, we need:
On Feb. 26, at the Delaware General Assembly’s Joint Finance Committee meeting, did you see us? We saw you. You were there. You saw us. You were in front of us, on the sides of us, behind us and on camera. Microphones were picking up every sniffle from the air of change.
Before this, we had to pick up Roxy, who is wheelchair-bound; Mr. Aaron, a man without oxygen; and his wife, Ms. Paula, who takes care of him, to bring them to the meeting. They are all living on the front lines. Right now, our system is failing Mr. Aaron, Ms. Paula and Roxy, and if we continue this, it will be you and your family, too.
I’ve been addicted to heroin and cocaine. I lost my cousin to an overdose. My uncle overdosed, and now, I take care of him. I overdosed. I don’t care about zoning laws.
Do you?
Before we gave testimonials for Mr. Aaron on Feb. 26, he had tears in his eyes. Mr. Aaron looked me in the eyes as he shook my hand, hugging me. His eyes gave me a light that told me that not only would he continue to fight, but we are going to continue to fight, Delaware. Mr. Aaron told me he was sorry for letting me down, while wheezing and shaking. I felt the collapse he was fighting, as he stood strong, shaking my hand, hugging me and telling me he was sorry for letting me down.
Mr. Aaron:
Read that last point one more time.
You must care more about zoning laws than human life if we’re still having this conversation, Delaware. You don’t have the services in place for the older population. We still have housing discrimination. We’re going to put services in our community, using people in our community to be of service. I’m done watching my family, friends, neighbors, city, culture, state and country die, while you all claim to be doing something about it. We are living on the front lines, and you collect your fat paychecks, with benefits.
I got to tell my story because I’m lucky. Mr. Aaron didn’t get to tell his story. Do you think a man deserves to give up his oxygen to tell his own story? When was the last time you gave up oxygen for anyone? Mr. Aaron did — for you, Delaware.
In her wheelchair, Roxy said: “Statistically, 40% of all sheltered homeless people have a disability. So, why, … if almost half of all sheltered — not to mention the amount of unsheltered homeless — have a disability, … are there only two handicapped-accessible shelter beds in all of Kent County? I have been trying to obtain shelter for months, to no avail. My name is Roxanna Laughlin. I’m 35 years old and have two children who are 17 and 13. I have worked very hard to be as independent as I possibly can be, and like a slap in the face, I am about to be admitted to a nursing home simply because I can’t even find a shelter to go to. I was supposed to start school for political science next month, but if I become locked up in a nursing home, this will simply not be a possibility. I have lost everything. Soon, I will be forced to give up my freedom simply for a place to sleep. Where is the humanity?”
I watched her tremble in tears beside me and her strength and the will to survive and let nothing stop her. Roxy stood before all of us, and we all bore witness to the change you forgot, Delaware. It’s been almost five months since that meeting Feb. 26, and we’ve done nothing, reader.
Some more necessities:
Over 3,500 Delawareans overdosed under the leaders from the previous administration. I hope you will be the change you expect from our politicians, Delaware.
We’re in this together.
Reader reactions, pro or con, are welcomed at civiltalk@iniusa.org.
