Xenophobia

One day the other week I took my mother-in-law to her beauty shop. Her weekly hair appointment takes about an hour. I brought a book to read.

The beauty shop is in an old shopping center. The old Shopping center is beginning to show signs of deteriorating. And also, a few stores cater to immigrants.

I was sitting in the car reading my book when a big pickup drove by me in the parking place beside me, then stopped in the row behind me. I watched in my rearview mirror as a young Latino man got out of his truck and went to a small grocery store that caters to people south of the border. Soon, he came out with a Weber-type grill fully assembled, standing on its legs, in a grocery cart.

He and another Latino pushed the cart to the truck. The next few minutes they worked to get the grill into a car sitting next to his truck. Then in a minute two more young Latino men or teenagers materialized. Then one or two more came out. By the way they were laughing, jostling, and carrying on, they all knew each other.

They were all standing around talking in Spanish. One decided to turn his speakers up very loudly. They liked Hip-Hop music.

I felt, with their loud music, they were being obnoxious. I felt threatened.

An old woman came out of the beauty parlor. She was using a walker. She looked happy with herself with her hair. Then she looked up towards the music and saw the bunch of Latino’s. She walked very carefully studying the group as she edged towards her car, not taking her eyes off them.

What was she going to do if she had any trouble? Guard them off with her walker? Lift it up and jab at them? They didn’t pay her any attention. They were enjoying each other.

She got in her car and hurried away.

They kept hanging out talking loud and laughing with the loud music thumping.

Then I thought: They are not hurting anybody. They are just hanging out. I hung out many times with my friends, when I was their age. Hanging out with one’s own is universal.

One of them started doing a mock dance for the others’ amusement twisted or hopped by my car and he saw me. He went back and turned off the car radio. They didn’t know I was there. How could I expect them to be harassing me if I was invisible to them just like I am everybody else?

They still hung out, but being aware of me, they were more subdue.

Apparently I was on-guard for no reason.

From my Pulpit

The Golden Rule, sort of:

I was in high school with a guy named Ken. Ken was a very nice person, all smiles. I did not know him that well, just well enough for us to smile at each other and call each other by our first names or nicknames.

Recently there was an article in the paper about Ken. Ken married a French lady, who inherited a From my Pulpit near Normandy, France that sleeps something like 150 people.

The article said Ken invited 20 of his closest friends of the class of 1960 and their spouses for a ten day visit at the Chateau. The article told what a nice time they had.

I felt slightly hurt that I wasn’t invited…. Especially after I read the details of what good of a time they had.

Our graduating class of 1960 had 300 people, the largest yet, at that time. Ken’s close friends, excluding the ones who have already died, made up about 1/12 of our student body. I felt excluded.

Then, I put the shoe on the other foot, so to speak… or walked a mile in his shoes, or something of a Zen nature like that.

I asked myself if I married someone who inherited a French Chateau in France and wanted to invite 20 close friends and their spouses to spend ten days, would I have invited Ken?

Of course not! Why would I? We were not that close.

I feel better now.

(In all fairness to Ken, no one in the class was excluded from a visit to their place. After the article came out he massed email everybody in the class offering a second trip to his chateu)

Freedom of Speech

While I am on the subject of exercising Freedom of Speech –

About a year ago there were some people protesting our involvement in Iraq in Atlanta. They were orderly marching with signs.

Across the street were some elderly counter-demonstrators, a veterans organization, standing around holding signs supporting our involvement in Iraq.

It was on the news. A newsman asked one of the elderly war supporters his thoughts on why we should be in Iraq. He told the reporter his feelings on why we should be there. I forgot what he said, but I remember I disagreed with his reasoning.

Then the reporter asked him what he thought of the demonstrators across the street protesting the exact opposite of what he supported. Of course the reporter was trying to stir up something for the sake of his Pulitzer. The elderly man was a quiet man and a gentleman. In a very few short sentences he said something to this effect: “I wish people would leave those kids along. They have as much right to their opinion as we do ours. And that is one of the reasons I fought in a war, so we can keep on having freedom of speech – whether I agree with what they say is unimportant, leave them alone, they are not hurting anybody.”

I felt emotional. He was, in a sense, my foe, but he touched my soul.

Protecting Our Interest

Recently I heard somebody say we should be in Iraq to protect our interests.

If that is true, that our troops can and should protect our monetary interests in other countries, does that give other countries the same right – to protect their interests abroad?

The reason I ask that is that I read somewhere that the U.S. is selling bonds to help pay for the Iraq war and their biggest customers are China and Japan. So, if that is true, China and Japan, by buying U.S. bonds, have a big monetary interest in the United States. If I remember correctly, stock holders own and they get what is left after the people who bought bonds in the company have been paid. So, it would be to these countries’ interest to see that the U.S. can afford to pay them back. How would they do that? To make sure the U.S. is ran more efficient.

Japan and China might want to come in with their troops and oversee and protect their interests more – maybe a good whap with a rifle butt will make that Postal clerk come out of the break room and get back to work or a shiny bayonet poking the ribs of another Federal worker looking out the window would snap him out of his daydream.

Unfair Pay To Retirees!

A friend that I grew up with, now retired in Florida, is sick today. He had minor surgery yesterday and is recuperating today.

Here is the problem with us retirees when we are sick: We can not call in for sick leave. If we are sick, we still have to do what we do every day anyway, whether we are sick or not.

Is that fair?

Another thing, we are also retired on Federal Holidays. We get the same rate of pay. Think about it. Normally, if a person, who is considered “regular” works on his or her holiday he or she gets an extra day’s pay. Retirees don’t. We have to do on holidays what we normally do, for no extra pay.

I would say we would strike and lie down in our work place – or in this case, non-work place, but we do that anyway.

Maybe we should boycott whoever sends those checks out and refuse to accept any more until they agree to pay extra for doing nothing on top of nothing on holidays and sick days - but on second thought lets don’t do anything foolish and irrational.

Walk a Mile in his shoes

“You need to walk a mile in his shoes before you can pass judgment of a person”, so says somebody. I ran a Google search and there are several thoughts on who originated that thought and it seems nobody really knows. I’ll credit it will Joe South since I know he wrote a song with those words – wait! Maybe his song was “Walk a mile in MY shoes..” Anyway…

The idea of it all is a nice parable insinuating you shouldn’t be too harsh on somebody that you haven’t lived life through their eyes and their brains…. So, naturally, you don’t see things in they perspective as they would.

HOWEVER! Isn’t insisting walking a mile in their shoes a bit much before you can scorn them? What if a person is a very greedy unscrupulous businessman or serial killer or a mass murderer? Huh?

These Little Piggies Are Going To Market

Now that we are home, tucked safely in our house, I am reflecting off and on about the trip. I thought of something else worth mentioning - or to get a little more mileage out of the trip:

Returning home going south on the I-95 we passed a truck load of pigs. The 18 wheeler had metal slats where you could look inside and see some the doomed pigs. They were all standing; there was not room to sit or lie.

I felt sorry for those pigs. No one told them of what was in stored for them. They didn’t know where they were headed.

I wondered, if say, going over the speed limit like the truck was doing, hauling ass (and butts) down the I-95 a slight error in judgment could cause a wreck.

What if the pig 18 wheeler was involved in a sudden accident and some of the pigs got hurt and maybe breaking some legs?

I suppose another truck would come and haul them on to their final destination. But what about the pigs with broken legs? We Americans like to think of ourselves as humane and gentle. Will, whoever in charge see that the pigs with the broken legs are given a splint and a shot to ease the pain, or will they just load them back on a truck, broken legs and all, and make them stand the remainder of the trip?

What do you think?