In the current health care debate, Congress and the White House have yet to pass the clarity test. The new “plan” is not clear, not understandable. The American people should demand clarity.

Social Security was clear. Tax the worker, pay the retiree. The “trust fund” part never really panned out. But the concept was clear. People understand Social Security.

One of the hardest things my wife and I ever did was to open a health savings account (HSA). Our insurance company did not offer an HSA for years after the law provided for same. When the company did offer an HSA, our participation was dependant on our changing everything about our coverage - and we had to reapply. It was hard, the system was against us.

One of the best non-fiction reads of all times is “Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room,” by Fortune Magazine writers Bethany McLean and Peter Elkin. The Enron story is the tale of arrogance and greed, sure, but more interesting is the story of a faulty business model on which corruption and false accounting seemed to yield outrageous profit.

The unraveling of Enron, then the seventh largest company in the U.S., can really be traced back to the moment when reporter Bethany McLean asked what some refer to as the “Emperor’s New Clothes” question. How does Enron make its money?

When McLean posed that question the Enron response was that she was too dumb to understand. So she set out to get the answer and the rest is history. And frankly, the “too dumb to understand” is the reply I’m hearing to my question - how is this new health care coverage going to work? - and, how is it going to be paid?

Is it time that all Americans have health care coverage? Sure, maybe, ok. But the plan must have clarity and those proposing it have not yet come anywhere close to being clear.

Perhaps the Emperor has another new set of clothes.

Suspended moment

I spent some of this past Saturday afternoon stuck on a bridge. In my rear view mirror a line of traffic stalled and lengthened, one car at a time. In front of me a small bulldozer worked at the end of the bridge. Highway workers with orange vests and official looking flags held us all at bay. We weren’t going anywhere.

It was a beautiful afternoon, fall hung in the air with texture and smell, the sun cast a lazy comfortable warmth in my direction. I put the car in park and took in the moment.

The bridge has a pedestrian walkway on its southern edge and a number of members of a bridal party were gathered there together for a photo opportunity. The bride was in flowing white, the groom and his entourage in traditional tuxes. The bridesmaids wore a shimmery gold. They all looked happy and eager and the photographer hopped around getting this angle and that. He coaxed their smiles and made them laugh.

Twenty feet away, at the easterly tip of the bridge, a young family of five watched the wedding photo shoot. The dad held one youngster and pointed towards the wedding party. The mom did the same as she stooped down to the level of her young daughter and perhaps explained the goings on. An infant in a stroller appeared to nap in spite of all the activity around.

Watching the young family watch the wedding party, I thought of the miles and miles of walks my wife and I took with our three children when they were small. We wore out strollers, put mileage on wagons, and made work for the shoemaker in evening walks, weekend walks and early morning walks.

Watching the young family invited memory in. And as I took in the familiar of that scene I wondered if the young parents were doing the same as they watched the bride and groom pose on their special day. Did that snapshot invite the memory of their wedding day back to them? And isn’t it nice, when unexpected, we are reminded of the ordinary in our lives that upon reflection seems extraordinary.