It was hardly a senatorial moment. Standing in the kitchen of my home in Minnesota, Sen. Paul Wellstone grabbed a slice of pizza off my young son's plate. But before he could take a bite, my son turned around and caught him.
"Hey, you, that's mine!" he yelled. And then he burst into tears.
Politicians are supposed to kiss smiling babies, not make them cry. What could the senator do? He quickly grabbed his "Wellstone!" campaign button off his trademark black sweater and stuck it on my son's pizza-stained shirt. In an instant, my son forgot about the pinched pizza and started toying with the bright green-and-white button. "If only all of my constituents were so quick to forget and easy to please," Wellstone said.
It was October 2002, and Wellstone was in a tough re-election campaign, complicated by the looming conflict in Iraq. The Senate had just voted overwhelmingly to authorize the war; Wellstone, a Democrat, had voted against it, sparking allegations that he was unpatriotic at a time when the war on terror was the only issue of any political race.
But Wellstone never wavered. That day, he predicted that in time, his opposition to the war would prove to be a prescient moment of his Senate career — a career cut stunningly short when he was killed in a plane crash two weeks later.
Wellstone also made another prediction that day, the last day I ever saw him: "William, I guarantee we will end discrimination against people with mental illness or addiction. We will do the right thing."
Almost six years to the day later, Wellstone's legacy is finally complete. The war in Iraq has been a costly disaster. And the U.S. Congress finally passed legislation to end discrimination by private insurance companies against people seeking treatment for mental illness or for addiction to alcohol or other drugs.
Starting next year, people who seek help for those chronic illnesses will receive the same coverage benefits as those who need treatment for diabetes, hypertension or breast cancer. Whether in a doctor's office, at a community-based outpatient program or a high-end residential treatment facility, more options will mean more opportunities for people to experience recovery from depression, bipolar disorder, and alcoholism or drug dependence.
For some, however, it is too late.
Dear Mr. Moyers: It is a perverse moment for families such as ours to celebrate the vote in Congress. You see, our daughter Elaine did not make it. She had some responsibility for that, as she drank too much and took pills to soothe the anguish of her bulimia and depression. But what happened wasn't her fault because she NEVER could get the necessary treatment. She had insurance from her job, too! The plan covered so-called "treatment." But it was nothing more than a handful of counseling sessions and a few days of outpatient care, and in the end, what she got wasn't what she deserved. She died last spring alone in bed, probably from a deliberate overdose of valium and wine. Our beloved daughter Elaine was only 22. — Tom and Terri D., Paramus, N.J.
Elaine D. and Paul Wellstone never lived long enough to experience the passage of the historic legislation. But now thousands of others will get a chance to live because of it.
William C. Moyers is the vice president of external affairs for the Hazelden Foundation and the author of "Broken," a best-selling memoir. The paperback edition was released in August 2007. Please send your questions to William Moyers at William@WilliamMoyers.com. To find out more about William Moyers and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.
COPYRIGHT 2008 CREATORS SYNDICATE INC.
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