HISTORY OF MEDICARE‐MEDICAID
On July 30th in 1965, at a ceremony in Independence, MO, President Lyndon Baines Johnson signed Medicare into Law. Moments later, the 36th president of the United States presented America's 33rd president,
Harry S. Truman — then 81 years old and praised by LBJ as “the real daddy of Medicare” – the nation’s first
Medicare card.
At its creation, Medicare consisted of two parts: Medicare Part A hospital insurance coverage, which is financed by payroll deductions and charges no premiums to those who have contributed; and Medicare Part B,
an optional medical insurance program for which Enrollees pay a monthly premium.
Medicare’s first beneficiaries paid a $40 annual deductible for Part A. The monthly premium for Part B- in
which Truman did Enroll- was $3. Today those costs are $1,156 for the annual Part A deductible and a premium of roughly $100 a month for Part B, plus a $140 annual deductible.
Prior to Medicare, those over 65 without access to an employer’s health plan or a private insurance plan
were on their own, or dependent upon their families, when they required medical care. Efforts to create
such a health safety net program were years in the making.
Here is a time line of several Medicare and insurance-related milestones:
1945: President Truman calls for a national health insurance program for all. Legislators on Capital Hill
Don’t act. He asks again in 1947 and 1949. Bills are introduced but die in Congress.
1961: A task force convened by President John F. Kennedy recommends creating a national health Insurance program specifically for those over 65. In May 1962 Kennedy gives a televised speech about the need
for Medicare.
1964: President Johnson calls on Congress to create Medicare.
1965: Legislation creating Medicare as well as Medicaid (health care services for certain low-income people
and others) passes both houses of Congress by a vote of 70-24 in the Senate and 307-116 in the House.
President Johnson signs the Medicare bill into law on July 30, as part of the Social Security Amendments of
1965.
1966: When Medicare services actually begin on July 1, more than 19 million Americans age 65 and older
enroll in the program.
1972: President Richard M. Nixon extends Medicare eligibility to individuals under age 65 who have longterm disabilities or end-stage renal disease.
1997: Private insurance plans–originally called Medicare+Choice or Part C, later renamed Medicare Advantage -- begin, giving beneficiaries the option of choosing an HMO-style Medicare plan instead of the traditional fee-for-service Medicare program. 2003: On December 8, President George W. Bush greatly expands Medicare by signing the Medicare Moderniza on Act, which establishes a prescrip on drug benefit. This op onal coverage, for which beneficiaries pay an addi onal premium, is called Medicare Part D. 2006: On January 1, Medicare Part D goes into effect and enrolled beneficiaries receiving subsidized Prescription drug coverage.
2010: The health care law (officially the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act) signed by President
Obama on March 23 mandates that Medicare beneficiaries receive certain preventive care services and
health screenings, such as mammograms, free of charge and reduce the out of pocket expense of Part D
enrollees.
Today, nearly 59 million Americans, 15 percent of the nation’s population, depend on Medicare for their
health insurance coverage. With increasing life expectancies and more boomers turning 65 every day, the
number of people in Medicare is expected to double between the years 2000 and 2030.
5 STORMS / SPRINGTIME High tides occasionally coincide with great storms. In Oysterville, in the “old days,” we kids watched Willapa Bay from upstairs bedroom windows as winds churned up ocean‐like waves. Salty water, forced over the low bank, filled areas east of bay‐front homes, spreading across yards. Occasionally it crept in farther and farther, then over Territory Road, and our barnyard became a lake. In the chilly sun porch, unused during the winter, we yelled out the progression. “It’s around the apple trees in the side yard now.” They were the ones we climbed all summer to hang by our knees. “Grandma, the water’s covering the walkway to the outhouse!” Now that was not as desperate as it might seem, for chamber pots were parked under beds or in corners. They were emptied each morning in that outhouse, also not worrisome, for the men of the family had hip boots for oystering. Once bay water reached the walkway, force had to launch it into the winter vegetable garden. Most storms failed. But one year Territory Road became flooded, encroaching on the chicken coop, across the cow pasture, and eventually the pig sty at the north end of the barn. The pig’s home was always mushy, of course. Calm, big‐eyed cows took care of themselves, and chickens climbed up onto roosts. We under ten or twelve scrambled into our boots to wade and splash around. If we were lucky, someone wanted to drive out to the ocean, where immense breakers stretched to the hori‐
zon. In the foreground, boards used as pathways for narrow car tires floated about like long boats. At the crest of the high dune we watched the ocean surge into the area that’s now Surfside. Tree trunks washed ashore, roots often intact. As soon as men and boys could drive out onto the wet sand, they sawed the logs into lengths for cook stoves and fireplaces, leaving no sign of wood except yellow‐
orange sawdust until another tide washed it away. By Easter leaves and buds sprouted in longer days of sun‐
light and rain showers. Uncle John spread his goopy, homemade fertilizer over seedlings in his garden, antici‐
pating long rows of vegetables for the inn’s boarders who would begin arriving in June. We clammed and raked crabs from huge depressions at the ocean beach, then tiring of work, we kids hunted for sand dollars and skipped along the wet sand. Riding in the back of grimy pickups was a highlight for me. “Sit down! You’ll fall out on your head!” my mother cried. It was music to my stubborn ears. I longed to stand and jump about, but knew I’d never come again if I did. The cannery beside the bay became a beehive of activity, and the barometer, always tapped by big muscular oystermen’s fingers, became important in our lives, too. Boys trapped mink, then sent skins off for money. Girls took walks, talking about boys and “grown up” things. It was a lovely time of year. Wet days came less often as summer approached, days when we played Monopoly and card games, as we listened to Gene Autry and Roy Rogers on 78 records. In June paying customers and busy relatives took over, and we headed for our own fun at Willapa Bay. Anne Nixon ( This is the last article from Anne as she is moving to California. Thank You Anne!!) 6