IN AN ironic twist, I was staying at a luxurious golf resort on a magazine assignment when John Edwards ended his campaign for president. Ironic because, whatever his failings, Edwards was the only major presidential contender in the last 40 years who talked consistently and passionately about the poor. On the day of his announcement, the headline on my computer read "Edwards Suspends Campaign: Emphasis on Poverty Never Caught On."

At the golf resort, a gorgeous oasis of heated pools and palm trees, breakfast for four cost $103. One of the bathrooms in our suite was as large as my daughters' bedrooms at home, fitted out with Italian marble, Jacuzzi tub, and a television.

Places like these are little precincts of paradise. The food is succulent and abundant (raspberries in winter, Kobe steaks); the spa treatments and attentive wait staff all intended to make you believe that discomfort has been rendered extinct. For a guy who grew up playing on weedy public courses, there is something unforgettable about walking a manicured links designed by a famous architect and having a caddy lug your bag, read your putts, and take a washcloth to your club after every shot.

Last week, staying in more modest accommodations while still in the warmer part of the country, I tuned into a radio talk show host who was discussing the economic stimulus package. "I work very hard," he said, "and my family and I are lucky enough to be among those who won't be getting a check, families with an income of more than $150,000." He went on to say how it seemed foolish and unfair that he was being excluded from the government's generosity. "I'd be one of the people who'd actually go out and spend that money, really help the economy," he complained, "buy something, instead of just paying off credit card debt."