I Hope I'm Learning Whatever It Is I'm Supposed to be Learning
Like how to deal with maroons and smile at the same time...
A few hours after that horrendous review on Wednesday, one of my students handed me a book.
"It's my favorite book in the whole world," she said. "Another teacher here loved it and now we want you to read it."
I looked at the cover. Half-naked woman with way large hair.
"Is it a romance?" I asked.
"Kinda," she said.
I turned it over and looked at the back.
"What's it about?"
"A prostitute who finds Christ."
"Great," I said, handing her the book. "I'll make sure to put it at the top of my summer reading list."
I ran errands at lunch time and as I walked into King Soopers, local grocery store, a kid with a clipboard asked if I'd sign his petition. I used to collect signatures when I was in college; I totally support petition drives whenever I can.
"What's it for?" I asked.
"A ballot measure that will protect embryos," he said. "It will classify, legally, that life begins at conception and therefore make it illegal to kill such a life. Eventually. With God's help."
"Oh," I said softly, wondering where I could find medication. "No, I can't sign that. I'm pro-choice. Thanks anyway, though."
As I walked away, the kid yelled, "I'm praying for your soul!"
Plus I couldn't find any tofu in the grocery store. I wonder if there's a ballot measure for that?
posted by kate @ 8:31 AM
12 comments
12 Comments:
Ultimately, when you move to Boston or NY or even back to FLA, this will make a great book. Olivia's Kiss is good, but writing about what you know best is always the best. I love the monikers we use to identify ourselves, "pro-life" or "pro-choice". Let's have some fun with this, "I'm sorry, I'm pro-death. I actually eat babies. Me and Mike Tyson. Yep." or "I don't believe adults should be permitted make decisions independent of state intervention when it comes to their bodies. I'm anti-choice. I dream about Congress with their hands all over my body. Whoa. Gooseflesh!"
Maybe the lesson is tolerance. You are very passionate about your beliefs and your living in an area that seems to have a totally different mind set then your own. But both have the same passion. Passion is good trying to share a book is good. And what could it hurt if someone out there is praying for your soul.
Thanks for the giggles, SD. I appreciate it.
Anon - if the lesson is tolerance, then I've passed. I find the humor in differences, but don't mistake it for intolerance.
What bothers me more than anything, is that the differences in me aren't tolerated in return. There is a big difference between my mother softly telling me she lit a candle for me the previous Sunday and an angry man screaming at me with hate in his voice that he's praying for my soul.
But I still tolerated him and flashed the peace sign instead of my middle finger. That alone ought to get me into heaven.
Just a note to satisfy a curiosity. So, did the kid from your post metamorphose into the angry man in your comment, or is there a separate event to which you refer?
Which kid? There are so many from which to choose...
did you mean morons - not maroons? or is a maroon something i don't know about. isn't maroon some sort of derogatory racial slur? or is it macaroon - or macadamia!
As I walked away, the kid yelled, "I'm praying for your soul!"
to
and an angry man screaming at me with hate in his voice that he's praying for my soul.
Ooops, WP, I should've written *young* man. Good eye there. Must be a pilot or something.
Anon - not a Bugs Bunny fan? What a maroon.
I've been known to take off on flights of fancy from time to time; others think I'm just plane crazy. Sadly, my doctors say it's terminal. It is all in how you approach it. This has been very taxiing for me so I guess I auto runway and bail out while I'm ahead. :-P
"I'm praying for you" has a Southern equivilent. You know the story:
Southern Belle No.1 tells SB2,"My husband just adores me. For my birthday, he bought me a new Mercedes".
SB2 responses, "Oh, that's nice dear, that's real nice."
SB1 says, "And for the holidays, we're going to Paris for three weeks".
SB2, "That's nice, Dear, that's real nice".
SB1, "And just look at this huge diamond he got me for our anniversary".
SB2, "Oh, that's real nice, Dear".
SB1, "So, what'd your husband get you, Dear".
SB2, "Oh, he sent me to finishing school".
SB1, "Finishing school? Why whatever do they teach you there?"
SB2, "We learned to say "That's real nice" instead of "fuck you".
Ha! A friend of mine used to tell a joke series involving that one, SD. One of the others runs like this.
A little old married southern couple are sitting on their front porch, rocking away their golden years and watching the world pass by. All of a sudden, the little old woman stands up, crosses to the little man, slaps him soundly across his face and shouts, "That's for 60 years of bad sex!" and returns to her rocking chair.
The couple continue to rock for a moment. Then, the little old man rises from his rocking chair, crosses to the little old woman, slaps her across the face and shouts, "That's for knowing the difference!"
I liiiike it.
Post a Comment
<< Home