New York’s new governor, Andrew Cuomo, was perhaps most direct about it.
‘The State of New York spends too much money,’ he said in his first State of the State address early this month. ‘It is that blunt and it is that simple.’
He wants to shut down 20 percent of his state’s agencies, authorities and commissions.
In California, the gubernatorial retread, Jerry Brown, is aiming to cut some $12 billion in state expenses. He’s expected to lay out details Monday in his own State of the State address.
For Colorado, the problem involves fewer dollars — about $1 billion. But the challenge — if you listened to Gov. John Hickenlooper last week — sounds no less daunting there.
‘We need everybody in this room, everybody who is listening to this speech, every farmer, every rancher, every small-business owner and every worker across the entire state of Colorado to decide that we need each other,’ Hickenlooper said in his State of the State talk. ‘And we are going to pull together in these hard times.’
Here in Pennsylvania, we fall somewhere between Colorado and California on the hardship scale. Our budget deficit sits in the $4 billion range, but we probably won’t know until March exactly how our new governor, Tom Corbett, will try to address it.
However his cost-trimming proposals unfold, you can be sure they’ll be greeted with plenty of hand-wringing and hysteria in the news media. Higher fees for some services seem likely, particularly in light of Corbett’s no-new-tax pledge. The state workforce may well shrink. Education may be forced to endure another trim in state support.
Still, with the exception of a few key spending categories (including education, and support for the legitimately needy), the idea of big state budget cuts doesn’t feel like armageddon to me.
It feels freeing. Mostly.
Let’s be clear: No one wants to see anyone lose a job or face financial and emotional hardship. No one revels in or promotes human suffering.
In my own little way, I relate to hardship and rewritten dreams: The economic downturn helped push me to give up a prior job — a solid job — as corporate-America budget cuts threatened to rip it away, anyway.
But if we can look beyond the immediate gut punches that we feel as a people; if we can see beyond our personal sacrifices and hardships; if we can stop thinking about what we’re losing, maybe we can think about what we’re gaining.
Imagine this: Our turnpike tolls increase dramatically, so we’ll want to travel less. Perhaps, somehow, our gas taxes will go up, too; we’ll not want to venture as far from home. Maybe state subsidies and grants for county fairs will dwindle, and the summer attractions will be pared back. Or maybe funding for gaudy new-school construction will shrink.
The forced emphasis on modesty and frugality could be good for us. Some amount of budget austerity — or something approaching austerity — could bring just enough simplicity back to Pennsylvanians.
Just enough to make us more cognizant of, more grateful for, the relative abundance and fortune we continue to enjoy, and often fail to appreciate.
Just enough to make us notice the nuances of our surroundings a little bit more.
Just enough to make us think about — more and more regularly — those who are worst off, and how to help and empower them.
Just enough to make us walk more, read more, spend less. Just enough to make us think more about what matters.
Easy for me to say, I suppose. I’m not hungry, homeless, jobless or suffering. Easy for me to find some glimmers of positivity in hours of darkness, someone might say.
But I think we can find those glimmers — all of us. There’s some strength in hardship, and illuminating realizations to be found in even the toughest of years. Something to keep us down on Earth — rooted, real, grounded.
I’m 28, and I often find my grandparents’ generation to be more real than mine. It’s not just an age thing, either. They grew up in the Depression era. Things matter — material stuff matters — less to them. Many still see a good meal as a luxury, even though they’ve been reasonably comfortable — by our material standards — for decades now.
A Sputnik Moment? OK, Mr. President. But I’m hoping this will be Generation Y’s Reality Moment, too.
