Tag: right thing

Fooled Again

Walking down the street.

I jaywalked right in front of a cop.

As I was stepping up to the light, I saw the Crown Vic from the corner of my right eye. The cruiser slowly pulled to the middle of the empty block. Very empty in that the restaurant that used to anchor that space and eight or ten houses around that block were cleared away four years ago. The holding-out-for-more-compensation owners of 5 row houses on the east side of the block have been dooming the planned mixed-use development. That’s a different story. I’ll write that another time. But there is a big empty space.

MPD rolled up next to the tall metal construction fence sprouting from cement blocks. The fence ringed the big empty space now taken back by vines and weeds pushing through old foundations, around the trunks of once mighty trees and snaking through what had been an alley. It could use a mowing.

I watched as he pulled to the curb and parked. I realized he was active. But as I stood there on the corner watching 23 seconds counting down to my permission to cross and with no cars coming over the hill from the West and zero traffic approaching from the East, I lost any patience or law-abiding self-restraint. (The Spouse would have heartily disapproved.)

A car passed, the street was clear. I looked both ways. I started to cross. I was feeling a little cheeky since Johnny Blue was just a glance from that intersection. When I was halfway across the street, he slowly moved from his perch. I kept my eyes straight ahead and likely stood a little taller. I didn’t pick up my pace, too much. I thought that he was going to screech his siren and censure me. If I made eye contact, he’d for sure bust me.

He wasn’t coming for me, though.  He had likely been sitting there to check a text before driving around the block to check out the local reform school.

I stepped on the curb, and the police drove by. I didn’t look back. I had purposely flaunted the law, in front of an enforcer of the law. Somehow, in that minute, it seemed stupider to stand and wait 23 seconds than to tick off a cop. I contemplate that as I walk the next block. Is it okay to break that pedestrian law? I already made an excuse for myself, but wanted some absolution.

I criss-crossed from one corner to the next, and a hybrid SUV revved up behind me. It speeded to the stop sign with the radio blasting. As it slowed and rolled through the intersection I recognized the strains of The Who.

Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.

I recognized the ghost of my youth granting me amnesty and egging me on. Privilege checked.

Posted on by docthink 1

Power Play

WCAC wrestling match. Fierce!

If any of you are still wondering how the Catholic Church not only covered up but also supported pedophile priests for decades and generations, look here and here.

For those of you who didn’t click through, here’s the tl;dr. Sixty people sent letters defending the character of Denny Hastert to the Chicago judge sentencing Hastert in a money laundering case that exposed the former wrestling coach and U.S. Speaker of the House as a serial pedophile. His supporters had a chance to pull back their letters before they went public. Forty-one decided that they were okay with not only publicly supporting but, in some instances, minimizing the impact of Hastert’s crimes.

I can get the ones from family who can’t believe he is a monster who via his position of power and respect as a person in authority–a wrestling coach–identified and groomed boys for sexual abuse. Yeah. I would have a tough time reconciling my spouse or parent or sibling with that. Wrong, but I can see it.

But “former national and state politicians as well as local leaders, board members, police officers”?  State attorney generals? Members of Congress? Ex-CIA heads?

That’s how this crap happens. People in power supporting other people in power and systematically–yes systematically, methodically and deliberately–minimizing the humanity of those who are not powerful. People like the young, the poor, the differently-able, the non-white, the non-cis, the non-hetero, and, frequently, the women.

I don’t care if the old man is in poor health. It’s not like he stole a loaf of bread to feed his family and has been chased for a lifetime while doing good. He purposefully hurt kids and then hid those crimes behind more than a million dollars in hush money. Then, when it got too hot, he said he was sorry for transgressions of “a young man.”

What does it mean that he is a “god-fearing man”? Does claiming that give a pass for preying on people? It doesn’t make sense to me.

My Bear wrestled. It was the only sport that drew my tears–not for winning or losing, but for the fierceness of the competition. Fierce. Intense. Personal. We trust our sons and our daughters to coaches, teachers and other group and club leaders. That trust should be sacrosanct no matter the power differential.

The crimes against children must not be brushed aside as a minor “flaw.” Must. Not. We need to defend the survivors, not the abusers.

 

 

Posted on by docthink 0

Valor in Discretion

question authority

When I was but a wisp of a person, maybe all of 116 pounds soaking wet while wearing a heavy wet towel, I had this shirt. It was a black tee. It was a present. I forgot who gave it to me, but they thought it captured my essence well. It said “QUESTION AUTHORITY” in big white block letters. That wasn’t all, though.

The “QUESTION” part was X’d out and printed on top in a screaming red scrawl was a four-letter word that began with an Eff and completed with a Kay. You figure it out.

I wore it in public.

My world was a college campus populated primarily by 18-24 year olds. I don’t think that I would recognize old people or families with kids. If professors walked across campus, they didn’t register to me. I would buy my coffee from a student or maybe a recent student. The bar patrons were reflections of me. People in the library didn’t look up. If somebody thought that my shirt was an affront, I didn’t recognize it.

I told my kids about that shirt. And I told them I was sorry that I wore it.

Sure, it was my right to speech. Sure, I liked being provocative in a crude and danger-loving kind of way. Sure, nobody ever said anything to me. But I’m also sure that someone was upset or hurt or shocked. There was really no value to parading around in that shirt–other than to display my immaturity and self-absorption. Nope, not much value there.

But at that time, I was trying things out and was foolishly proud that I didn’t shirk from being on the wrong side of people who weren’t me and my narrow tribe. I was all id in formation of a grown-up ego.

It makes me think about that scene in a movie where the woman is trying to get someone to attend to her sick child and finally gets the attention of the insensitive doctor via tirade. Or the scene where the snooty sales clerk humiliates a shopper and the friend tears the clerk up one side and down the other. Or when the mild-mannered mom stands up against book burning at the PTA meeting of neanderthals. Or when a character finally and publicly tells off his boss in a most clever and profanity peppered speech. And there’s always the guy screaming out the window that he’s mad as hell and not going to take it anymore.

All of us cheered for each one of them. We were all on the side of the person who pushed through polite mores and let loose. We were relieved by these moments when someone is not holding back, when they act free from the constraints of civilized society and when they are being righteous!

Civilized society, though, stops us from screaming at strangers when wronged. Mostly because screaming and giving in to our lizard brains feel good, but only for that minute. Mostly because our perceived slights are more slight than not. Mostly because we risk substituting our lack of control for being truly righteous.

Grown ups know that we damage our relationships with others when we act outrageously. Usually the goal is to come to a resolution versus stage an excellent colloquy in which the character we play “wins.”

I learned to measure my foot-stomping child-self. I sometimes fail, but I know that there is good reason to avoid most fights. It’s to make sure when you do fight, it’s worth fighting for.

Posted on by docthink 0

Half-full

A sandwich wrapped in paper.

She stood balancing with one foot in the street with her other, mostly sensible, pump on the curb. The door on her silver Honda was swung wide, but she wasn’t in a hurry.

She was pulling the two halves of a sandwich apart. The sandwich maker clearly didn’t cut it clean through. It was wrapped well, and the paper was protecting the meal from the cold wind.

It’s the second day of Spring, but Winter is not quite ready to let go.

The man was there in his usual spot on the bench. He was in the neon orange snow pants and neon orange jacket. He doesn’t wear this gear every day and the pants only on especially cold days. Usually he just wears a hat, but today his cragged face–one of a not old man but a man who has lived old–was framed by the orange wimple of the hood pulled tight, framing around his face.

He looked up at the woman fighting with the sandwich, his head slightly tilted back with a beatific smile. It’s unusual for him to engage like this. Sometimes he interacts with people imagined, sometimes real. It’s not unlikely that his language is punctuated with hard words spoken sharply. Not today, though. Today he’s wearing a smile of a sweet child happy with his people.

Maybe the woman is his daughter, or his sister or a friend from before. Maybe she is just a kind stranger, and he is reflecting that kindness. Perhaps she was splitting that sandwich and they were going to eat together.

Posted on by docthink 0

The Result of a Fundamental Disagreement

Nobody loves your kid like you do.

No. Bod. Dee. So

  • Don’t expect people to want to kiss their snot encased visage. You might be able to look beyond it. Others see green–literally. Don’t put your kid’s face expectantly in mine.
  • Don’t be angry when someone begs off from listening to your child play their musical instrument. Even if they are objectively good (which isn’t that likely) your guests may not want their conviviality interrupted. Even if it is Mozart that is being attempted played. Even at your house. Unless you invited us to a recital, and we had the chance to beg off in advance. No fair bundling your concert with a traditional family get-together, unless you don’t care if we aren’t paying attention and downing shots in the other room.
  • Multiply the negativity above by about one-thousand if the sharing entails a video and people are asked to stop everything, shush, and watch. Shush!
  • An exception is if you are passing around your iPhone with a < 30 second video of something that is funny or is an at-the-buzzer game winning 3-point shot. But only twenty-nine seconds or less. Get to the punchline. Don’t say, “Oh wait, you gotta see this, too.”
  • You want to bring your extraordinarily precocious and mature child you to that adults only event? Don’t ask if it’s okay to bring her or him if “No” will piss you off. That’s not really a choice. You don’t get credit for asking if all you will accept is validation of your parental desire.
  • Movies, let’s go there. Unless it’s a kids’ movie, get a damn babysitter. Their stage whispered cute comments are not what I paid for. Also, they’re only cute to you. See first line in this post.
  • At a sporting event, you bring your children. That’s cool. Other people are not as aware of your kids and their needs as you are. This is especially true in crowds. Your kids are short. They are unusual features of a crowd. They are frequently not seen. I’m not saying stay home, I’m just saying it is what it is. You have to be careful for them, not the strangers. It’s on you if they are jostled or hear curse words. These people left their kids for a reason. They’re off duty.

Let me be clear. I really like your kids. I will make goo-goo faces at them on the subway just to elicit a toothless grin. The drunken old man walk of a toddler really tickles me. I like to sit next to the parent on the plane with the screaming kid to reassure them that not everyone hates them at that moment. Been there.

I watch and like your posts with your adorbs kids on Facebook all the time. I even share some of them. And, it is a known, that I am bonkers for my kids.

But, bottom line, nobody loves your kids like you do.* You shouldn’t be disappointed, mad or rage-quit because of this true fact.

* [Except maybe grandparents. Okay, got me there. This post also applies to them.]

Posted on by docthink 0

Dyscussion

You know that email you wrote? Telling someone how absolutely and completely wronged you are by their cruel, thoughtless and idiotic deeds? You know that one? Don’t send it.

When I’m writing a howler, I very deliberately leave the “TO:” line blank.  That way, I can’t even mistakenly send it.

I’m definitely composing that ferocious email. I’m carefully going back and editing that email to hone all the barbs until they are quite sharp. I am ensuring that it is fully TO THE POINT and that no one could mistake my intention. Then I’m walking away. I might delete it right then. Or I might see it in my drafts folder later. I have never sent it when I saw it again later.

I, like you, need to get that righteous anger out of my system. I can’t imagine a scenario in which I need to put it directly into someone else’s system, just for one simple reason.

Nothing good will come of it.

I’m not motivated by making something bad happen. I personally get nothing out of exacting revenge. Ugliness I lavish will likely

  • escalate
  • screw me over
  • not make a whiff of difference in the other’s behavior
  • damage a relationship that I want (or need) to maintain
  • All of the Above

Hence, no good will come of it.

I’ve been contemplating rage-quitting Medium over the cycle of hurt and outrage that is brewing on that platform. But rage quitting feeds that shit cycle. So, if I’m leaving the platform behind, I will just pick up my keyboard and leave. Without a public fuss.

I was watching a clip from a TV show where grown men in suits and ties were calling each other names, being mean and dismissive, yelling over each other and, I dunno. It definitely was not civil. It was remarkably angry. It included glowering.  It was dysfunction dyscussion.

Is your goal to make some afraid? To force an error? To slam the door in someone’s face? To punish? To hurt? To win at any cost?

Let me be clear. I used to be much meaner. It just doesn’t work. Not for what I want, anyway.

Posted on by docthink 0

Friends Like That

Night at the opera, Ginsberg and Scalia

I  was shocked to hear that Justice Scalia passed away. I think we were all shocked.

Although I have not been a fan of his work from the bench of our highest court, my first reaction was a sense of loss.

I knew that he and the Notorious RBG were notoriously friends. In reading people’s memories of him, I learned that he and another ideological foe, Justice Elena Kagan, were hunting buddies. Scalia even recommended her to an Obama confidant–saying, “I hope he sends us someone smart,” before naming Kagan as one who met that criteria. I guess he wanted a worthy opponent.

Witty, gregarious, and fun are words that are most associated with him by colleagues and friends or various leanings–left and right, D and R.

I learned about Justice Scalia’s death on Twitter which almost immediately brought me the second shock. The Senate Majority Leader ran breathlessly to a mic within an hour to let the world know that our sitting President should not even THINK about nominating someone to fill that seat on the bench.

Oh, just stop.

Then there was the line of people disagreeing with McConnell from the Senate chambers bringing politics to the fore before anyone had a chance to pay their respects. Turning the Justice into a political football.

Please. Please just stop.

Others started piling on saying mean things–really mean. And I all could think about was that I could NOT agree with any of them. At all. Because no matter how much I disagreed with Scalia, no matter how wrong I believed his skewed intellectual gymnastics on more than one decision or dissent, he always seemed to me to be very much human.

They say he changed the Court, that he was the first to really take control of the arguments and ask challenging questions. He was a New Yorker. He was a first generation Italian-American. He was smart. He was confident. He was brash. He pushed his ideas but could obviously listen to others and agree to disagree. Without being disagreeable. I love this.

I’m not saying he’s a saint or that he should be revered. I’m just saying he might have been wrong, but he wasn’t bad. Just look close around him.

RIP, Justice Nino. Peace to your family and friends.

Posted on by docthink 1

Just Desserts

Homemande ginger ice cream with a raspberry sauce on top of Charyl's pizzelle. Mmmm.

Nobody likes a cheater.

But sometimes it’s just skirting of rules. Is that a cheat?

I always objected to that skim. The boys knew it was not going to fly. The times someone tries to get away on an absolute narrow reading of the ruling–nope. Not happening.

I always say that we do the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law in our house. People know right from wrong. Parsing means you’re trying to get away with something.

People, we know better.

Posted on by docthink 0

When Thinking Doesn’t Count

Ooogie Boogie from Nightmare Before Christmas

Charles Blow writes today in the New York Times about head versus “heart.”

This underscores the current fight for the soul of this country. It’s not just a tug of war between left and right. It’s a struggle between the mind and the heart, between evidence and emotions, between reason and anger, between what we know and what we believe.

This conflict was captured in a tit-for-tat between Obama and Rush Limbaugh. In an interview with CBS this week, Obama complained about the “vitriol” coming from the likes of Limbaugh: “I think the vast majority of Americans know that we’re trying hard, that I want what’s best for the country.”

Limbaugh shot back on Friday, “I and most Americans do not believe President Obama is trying to do what’s best for the country.”

And there it was. Obama’s language focused on what people “know,” or should know. He seems to find comfort in the empirical nature of knowledge. It’s logical. Limbaugh’s language focused on what he thinks people “believe.” Beliefs are a more complicated blend of facts, or lies, and faith. And, they can exist beyond the realm of the rational.

And this is the part where I get really scared.

You see, I am a thinking person. I will look at facts. I will look at data. I will follow the trail. If I am worried about the provisions in the health care bill, I will read them for myself. And, I will change my mind when I am wrong.

Here’s the scary part. There are many–and truly not all–people who are strongly against health care (really insurance) reform who are just making stuff up. These people are making stuff up all the time. They are in an alternative reality. Where birth certificates from a sovereign state are suspect and there is a great and evil communist-nazi conspiracy.

And the left, we are going with logic. And facts. And thoughtful arguments. If people only understood–the President seems to be saying–they would support.

They have the boogie man. Boogie man wins over thinking man.

Keep an eye on the elections. Thinking people need a new strategy.

Posted on by docthink 0

Thinking The New Year

glass easily half full

I was lucky to click through to a good post by Stowe Boyd on resolving to be the best you. It’s called “Nature or Nurture In Social Networking” [not a compelling title to me], but what makes it important to my thinkings it that it reminds me that we make our own heaven or hell. [Even though he says that we don’t.]

In doing a good job of synthesizing recent research on happiness in social networks, Boyd also points up a few resolution/techniques that can help us (read ME) do something to make ourselves happier. [See this is the irony in him saying that our happiness is not within our own control and then giving some steps that ARE in our control. Still, it works for me.]

  • Resolve to surround yourself with people who are actively involved with activities and behaviors you want to do more of.
  • Avoid people who are involved with activities and behaviors you want to do less of.
  • When in contact with people who want to emulate you, be aware that you have this sort of impact on them. —from Stowe Boyd

I was thinking, is depression contagious? I now recognize that I have spent the last two years living with and loving people with depression. Can this be having an effect on my own natural optimism?

Optimists think that they can fix it. Depression isn’t “fixable” in a traditional pull-yourself-out-of-it kind of way. And when you love somebody, it doesn’t do you any good to resolve to avoid them because their negativity is contagious.

On the other hand, could my optimism help my social network feel more optimistic? I choose to think so–especially since I have no intention of removing the nodes with depression from my network.

Glass definitely half-full. Game on!

Posted on by docthink 4